Selah's story
My pregnancy with Selah was alike to Jorai's. I was blissfully ignorant. There were a few times where I was a bit scared with Selah, but all in all, I was happy and enjoying my pregnancy and awaiting the birth of another daughter...yes, we knew Selah was a girl, not officially, but we knew. Just as we knew Jorai was a girl. But then the darkness fell.
Saturday, Steve, Asher and I were up in Big Rapids celebrating Christmas with my folks and brother and fam. Around 3:30ish, my brother and I were talking and he asked 'So, are you feeling a lot of movement?' And of course I said 'Yeah, tons'...since she was such a mover and shaker. But then I thought, when was the last time she moved? So I started to monitor it and of course, nothing. I kept sneaking out of our Christmas celebration to drink OJ and lay down to poke and prod at my belly, just hoping and praying for movement. Nothing.
I knew. I knew she was gone. But I didn't want to tell anyone. I didn't want it to be real. At 8:30, I confessed to Steve that I hadn't felt movement. And then my mom at about 9. At 9:30 we decided to go to the Mecosta County General Hosp. to see if I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong. I wasn't.
We packed up the car around 11pm and made the trip back to Lansing. That night sucked. My belly was starting to hurt and get a bit hard...not a contraction hardness, but something else. And the feeling of stillness was overwhelming. I got maybe 3 hours of sleep. I could feel the baby float back and forth when I would flip from one side to the other. It was horrible. I felt a dead weight shift and then plop at my side. It truly was horrendous. At 11am we took off to the hospital.
We sat around waiting for almost 2 hours before they inserted the laminaria into my cervix and gave me cytotec to start labor. About a few hours into it, the pain was intensifying so I decided to get some help with drugs. I chose to use dilaudid and it was the best decision. I really hated to get an epidural, but I wanted to try something. The dilaudid was amazing. I was given a personal pump controller that just went into my iv bag. The moment I started being uncomfortable, I'd push the button and from the moment I got it until I delivered, I was pain free with no additional needles, I could walk around and it never caused me any nausea.
For some reason, which I still don't know, the pitocin was started around 10am but then stopped around 6am so my labor stalled. At around 10am they started pitocin again and within 15 minutes I went from a dilation of 5 to full and Selah was in position. She was born @ 10:29 because we were waiting for my doctor to arrive. Selah Mae was 13" long and weighed 1 and 1/4 lb. Steve cut the cord and she was immediately placed on my chest.
I'd love to say that she was beautiful and that I loved the time I was able to spend with her, but it was horrid. She was so young that she didn't look right. Not at all. She was perfectly formed when a doctor looked at her, but to me, she just didn't look right. I couldn't look at her. When she was placed on my belly, her jaw swung open and her too tiny face turned to me with the look of death staring me in the eyes. Jorai was serene and beautiful, but Selah...Selah was death to me. Jorai looked as if she was just asleep. Selah looked like death. It was scary for me. I was thinking I was going to see Jorai, and I didn't. She was tiny. Too tiny. Her skull was so soft, which is typical of a 23 week gestation baby, but it made her head and face concave a bit. Her little hands and feet were perfect and soft yet cold and the skin was starting to peel away. I felt like crap for being afraid and not wanting to be with her, but I couldn't. I was sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe and the tears where coming so hard and fast that I couldn't see anything...All I could see was her gaping mouth and sunken face. I wanted to hold her and kiss her but I couldn't. I couldn't. I wanted to stare at her for hours and examine her body so that I had a mental picture of her that I could treasure for all time, but I couldn't. I couldn't look at my child. I couldn't bare to see her in that way.
My friend who has been our photographer for the past year, and who has started volunteering with Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, came to take pictures of Selah. I can't wait to see the pictures. She mainly focused on those perfect little hands and feet.
The cause of her passing, we think was cord related again. Where the cord attached to her belly, the cord was only the size of a toothpick. It's usually a lot larger than it. Our doctor said that if there was any twisting of the cord, it would have cut off everything. I don't think she had a fighting chance of survival.
We've decided to send some samples of Selah's blood and skin to a genetics lab and Steve and I'll get genetic counseling as well. The doctor, and us, think it's not a coincidence that both of our daughters have passed yet Asher's came out so perfectly. Our doctor thinks it could be something to do with a X chromosome. We'll start that soon.
I'm really pissed right now. I could never wrap my thoughts and faith around the loss of Jorai, so how do I with losing Selah as well. Why was another child taken from me? Why did we have to go through it like this again. Why couldn't we just have had a miscarriage? A miscarriage would have been so much easier. I'm not saying a miscarriage would be easy...Losing a child at any stage is difficult, but giving birth and holding a lifeless child in your arms, seeing their death is heartbreaking. How do I deal with this pain?
Having Asher is a lifesaver. I wish I could say that my faith has been a lifesaver this time, but in honesty, it hasn't. I'm praying...kindof...mostly just telling God off. I'm pissed. I can't see His reasoning for this and I know I'm not suppose to, but for me, right now...I need to see something. Taking a painted box home filled with a blood spattered blanket and cap and clothes that never even touched my baby's body, rather than bringing home a healthy bundle of joy just isn't right. And to do it for a second time, just sucks. It's not right. It's not 'fair'. For all the people who could care less about their child, who abort their children or put them up for adoption or abuse them or whatever, why do they 'deserve' to have a child more that us? I'm just pissed. Pissed at the world and at God and at my body and at every thing. I know I need to find peace about this, to walk in grace with what's been placed before me, but right now, all I want is to spit in the face of the One who did this. Is that wrong of me? I feel like crap saying those words. I do. I feel conflicted. I love God. I treasure Him. But how can you treasure someone who continues to take your babies away. Who continues to make you endure such hardship? Maybe I'm being a selfish little girl who's not getting her way. For all in all, I live a pretty 'charmed' life. But to endure the death of a child, twice. To feel a lifeless child within. To birth a lifeless child. To hold a lifeless child. To see a child who you love, look so disfigured, so...truly and utterly lifeless and feel their coldness and hear the silence and have horrible images burned in your memories and fear all subsequent pregnancies...it's just not right. You want to blame someone. You want to punch and kick and scream at the One who's taken from you.
Steve is already talking about trying again. He thinks we should. He's already telling me the name of our next girl. That makes me feel blessed. Blessed to have someone who's not afraid to try at life again. Not afraid to believe and let go of anger. I'm not there. I want to be. I want to give Asher a sibling. I want him to grow up and live his life with a brother or sister, but I can't do this again. I truly can't. My heart has been split wide open twice in 2 and 1/2 years. I've lost 2 babies. I've delivered 2 lifeless babies. I've cremated 2 children. I can't do this again. What if we can't make a baby girl that will survive? I can't take that risk. I can't. I want to. But I can't.
So here I sit. In turmoil. And I have time. Time for tests and diagnoses and healing and restoration in faith. I have time. I have time to enjoy life with my husband and living child. And I will. But anguish is still right there. Right underneath the surface. I still picture Jorai when I see children who would be around her age. Now I will do the same with Selah. I'll always have 2 children who I can only picture the people they would have become. And God is to blame for that. Blame may be the wrong choice of word...but that's how I feel right now. And the thought of not being able to carry another child to term, kills me a bit. I don't know. This is where I am. In limbo. 2 dead babies. 1 live one and a big fat question of should we even try again. I can't say life sucks. I have an AMAZING husband who I love and cherish so much, a living child who adds joy to my heart each and every day and who I love so dearly, and a great support system of family and friends. But each moment of every day there are 2 little girls who are missing in my life. 2 little girls who I would have loved to have gotten to know and kiss and hug and watch grow up. 2 little girls whom I miss so dearly, so utterly and 2 little girls that I ache to be with. every day. every day they're missed.
Selah Mae. We were so excited to be pregnant with you. We were thrilled to have you in our lives and growing in my belly. Your big brother loved to kiss you by zerberting my belly. He would point to you when asked where the baby was. He would have loved to meet you and grow with you. I miss you so. I miss your gentle kicks and feeling you grow within me. I miss our time together. I'm so very sorry that I wasn't able to spend more time with you, please know my love for you is undying and I will count the days until I meet you in heaven. It brings me a bit of solace knowing that you are with you big sister up in heaven. I know she will love you and play with you and watch over you until I get there. Your papa and I love you so very much my dear, sweet girl and we miss you each moment of the day. My heart aches for you my child and a piece will be missing until we're together again. I love you to the moon and back.
Saturday, Steve, Asher and I were up in Big Rapids celebrating Christmas with my folks and brother and fam. Around 3:30ish, my brother and I were talking and he asked 'So, are you feeling a lot of movement?' And of course I said 'Yeah, tons'...since she was such a mover and shaker. But then I thought, when was the last time she moved? So I started to monitor it and of course, nothing. I kept sneaking out of our Christmas celebration to drink OJ and lay down to poke and prod at my belly, just hoping and praying for movement. Nothing.
I knew. I knew she was gone. But I didn't want to tell anyone. I didn't want it to be real. At 8:30, I confessed to Steve that I hadn't felt movement. And then my mom at about 9. At 9:30 we decided to go to the Mecosta County General Hosp. to see if I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong. I wasn't.
We packed up the car around 11pm and made the trip back to Lansing. That night sucked. My belly was starting to hurt and get a bit hard...not a contraction hardness, but something else. And the feeling of stillness was overwhelming. I got maybe 3 hours of sleep. I could feel the baby float back and forth when I would flip from one side to the other. It was horrible. I felt a dead weight shift and then plop at my side. It truly was horrendous. At 11am we took off to the hospital.
We sat around waiting for almost 2 hours before they inserted the laminaria into my cervix and gave me cytotec to start labor. About a few hours into it, the pain was intensifying so I decided to get some help with drugs. I chose to use dilaudid and it was the best decision. I really hated to get an epidural, but I wanted to try something. The dilaudid was amazing. I was given a personal pump controller that just went into my iv bag. The moment I started being uncomfortable, I'd push the button and from the moment I got it until I delivered, I was pain free with no additional needles, I could walk around and it never caused me any nausea.
For some reason, which I still don't know, the pitocin was started around 10am but then stopped around 6am so my labor stalled. At around 10am they started pitocin again and within 15 minutes I went from a dilation of 5 to full and Selah was in position. She was born @ 10:29 because we were waiting for my doctor to arrive. Selah Mae was 13" long and weighed 1 and 1/4 lb. Steve cut the cord and she was immediately placed on my chest.
I'd love to say that she was beautiful and that I loved the time I was able to spend with her, but it was horrid. She was so young that she didn't look right. Not at all. She was perfectly formed when a doctor looked at her, but to me, she just didn't look right. I couldn't look at her. When she was placed on my belly, her jaw swung open and her too tiny face turned to me with the look of death staring me in the eyes. Jorai was serene and beautiful, but Selah...Selah was death to me. Jorai looked as if she was just asleep. Selah looked like death. It was scary for me. I was thinking I was going to see Jorai, and I didn't. She was tiny. Too tiny. Her skull was so soft, which is typical of a 23 week gestation baby, but it made her head and face concave a bit. Her little hands and feet were perfect and soft yet cold and the skin was starting to peel away. I felt like crap for being afraid and not wanting to be with her, but I couldn't. I was sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe and the tears where coming so hard and fast that I couldn't see anything...All I could see was her gaping mouth and sunken face. I wanted to hold her and kiss her but I couldn't. I couldn't. I wanted to stare at her for hours and examine her body so that I had a mental picture of her that I could treasure for all time, but I couldn't. I couldn't look at my child. I couldn't bare to see her in that way.
My friend who has been our photographer for the past year, and who has started volunteering with Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, came to take pictures of Selah. I can't wait to see the pictures. She mainly focused on those perfect little hands and feet.
The cause of her passing, we think was cord related again. Where the cord attached to her belly, the cord was only the size of a toothpick. It's usually a lot larger than it. Our doctor said that if there was any twisting of the cord, it would have cut off everything. I don't think she had a fighting chance of survival.
We've decided to send some samples of Selah's blood and skin to a genetics lab and Steve and I'll get genetic counseling as well. The doctor, and us, think it's not a coincidence that both of our daughters have passed yet Asher's came out so perfectly. Our doctor thinks it could be something to do with a X chromosome. We'll start that soon.
I'm really pissed right now. I could never wrap my thoughts and faith around the loss of Jorai, so how do I with losing Selah as well. Why was another child taken from me? Why did we have to go through it like this again. Why couldn't we just have had a miscarriage? A miscarriage would have been so much easier. I'm not saying a miscarriage would be easy...Losing a child at any stage is difficult, but giving birth and holding a lifeless child in your arms, seeing their death is heartbreaking. How do I deal with this pain?
Having Asher is a lifesaver. I wish I could say that my faith has been a lifesaver this time, but in honesty, it hasn't. I'm praying...kindof...mostly just telling God off. I'm pissed. I can't see His reasoning for this and I know I'm not suppose to, but for me, right now...I need to see something. Taking a painted box home filled with a blood spattered blanket and cap and clothes that never even touched my baby's body, rather than bringing home a healthy bundle of joy just isn't right. And to do it for a second time, just sucks. It's not right. It's not 'fair'. For all the people who could care less about their child, who abort their children or put them up for adoption or abuse them or whatever, why do they 'deserve' to have a child more that us? I'm just pissed. Pissed at the world and at God and at my body and at every thing. I know I need to find peace about this, to walk in grace with what's been placed before me, but right now, all I want is to spit in the face of the One who did this. Is that wrong of me? I feel like crap saying those words. I do. I feel conflicted. I love God. I treasure Him. But how can you treasure someone who continues to take your babies away. Who continues to make you endure such hardship? Maybe I'm being a selfish little girl who's not getting her way. For all in all, I live a pretty 'charmed' life. But to endure the death of a child, twice. To feel a lifeless child within. To birth a lifeless child. To hold a lifeless child. To see a child who you love, look so disfigured, so...truly and utterly lifeless and feel their coldness and hear the silence and have horrible images burned in your memories and fear all subsequent pregnancies...it's just not right. You want to blame someone. You want to punch and kick and scream at the One who's taken from you.
Steve is already talking about trying again. He thinks we should. He's already telling me the name of our next girl. That makes me feel blessed. Blessed to have someone who's not afraid to try at life again. Not afraid to believe and let go of anger. I'm not there. I want to be. I want to give Asher a sibling. I want him to grow up and live his life with a brother or sister, but I can't do this again. I truly can't. My heart has been split wide open twice in 2 and 1/2 years. I've lost 2 babies. I've delivered 2 lifeless babies. I've cremated 2 children. I can't do this again. What if we can't make a baby girl that will survive? I can't take that risk. I can't. I want to. But I can't.
So here I sit. In turmoil. And I have time. Time for tests and diagnoses and healing and restoration in faith. I have time. I have time to enjoy life with my husband and living child. And I will. But anguish is still right there. Right underneath the surface. I still picture Jorai when I see children who would be around her age. Now I will do the same with Selah. I'll always have 2 children who I can only picture the people they would have become. And God is to blame for that. Blame may be the wrong choice of word...but that's how I feel right now. And the thought of not being able to carry another child to term, kills me a bit. I don't know. This is where I am. In limbo. 2 dead babies. 1 live one and a big fat question of should we even try again. I can't say life sucks. I have an AMAZING husband who I love and cherish so much, a living child who adds joy to my heart each and every day and who I love so dearly, and a great support system of family and friends. But each moment of every day there are 2 little girls who are missing in my life. 2 little girls who I would have loved to have gotten to know and kiss and hug and watch grow up. 2 little girls whom I miss so dearly, so utterly and 2 little girls that I ache to be with. every day. every day they're missed.
Selah Mae. We were so excited to be pregnant with you. We were thrilled to have you in our lives and growing in my belly. Your big brother loved to kiss you by zerberting my belly. He would point to you when asked where the baby was. He would have loved to meet you and grow with you. I miss you so. I miss your gentle kicks and feeling you grow within me. I miss our time together. I'm so very sorry that I wasn't able to spend more time with you, please know my love for you is undying and I will count the days until I meet you in heaven. It brings me a bit of solace knowing that you are with you big sister up in heaven. I know she will love you and play with you and watch over you until I get there. Your papa and I love you so very much my dear, sweet girl and we miss you each moment of the day. My heart aches for you my child and a piece will be missing until we're together again. I love you to the moon and back.
Comments
I am waiting to miscarry yet again and am feeling so many of the things you are feeling.
I cannot compare what I am going through to what you are going through, and I never would. I just want you to know I appreciate your honesty.
Praying for wisdom for doctors, peace for you and Steve... so glad you have such love - such a partner, such a sweet son, such friends and family.
Can't wait to give you a hug.
Love you, friend.
Tiffany
Katie, thanks for surrounding us with love. You're a great friend and I truly appreciate you.
Tiff, I miss you. I miss being able to go out and talk about our losses and somehow be able to find solace in our time together. I just miss you. This sucks. And I know you of all people know how true those words are. I keep thinking about how much easier it would be to just give up...but then I look at Asher and know I have to be here for him. I have to be happy and play with him as I always do...but it's so hard to be happy with one child when you're grieving for the other.
I just miss you so.