Easter is Coming

My due date is Easter. I've been both dreading that day and just wanting it to hurry up and get here so we can get it over with. Had everything gone as it should have, Clara would have joined our family on April 4th, 2012, 2 days ago. We would be coming home from the hospital today, happily blissful to have our long awaited little girl finally coming home. Instead, she went to go play with the angels without us. It's been a really hard week because it is now April and that was when Clara was supposed to join us. So much of the time, she seems like a dream to me. I feel like I'm grasping and trying to hold onto her, but she's just out of my reach. Ken remembers her clearly and nothing about her seems like a dream to him. He really got to bond with his baby girl, and in a way, it seems she is more his than she is mine. He vividly remembers his time with her. He got to dress her, hold her, help the nurses and photographer with her. He was responsible for her and had alone time with her when I was in surgery. He remembers the time that she was with us, in our arms, not just in our hearts. I do remember a few things about her, but not a lot. When we got the pictures from NILMDTS back, I was hoping that I would remember more when I looked at the pictures. I didn't. It didn't help me to remember at all. But, it did show me how much I got to hold her, how heartbroken I was to lose her, how very much we loved her. All of that can be seen in the pictures. I will never ever be able to thank Jen enough for what she did for us and gave to us by taking those pictures of Clara. It's got to be one of the hardest jobs in the world, but she does it and puts so much of her love into it, she is just an amazing woman.

Things I think about that I really shouldn't, but that still come. The constant wondering what happened and why, as her momma, I didn't know she was struggling. But I did know something was wrong, I just didn't know it was that wrong. Her movements had slowed down starting around 23 weeks. I wasn't too worried at first, babies that young and small are not consistent in their movements. Something I should have thought about was that for HER, that was not normal. I had felt her consistently move since 17 weeks. At my 24 week appointment, I was a bit nervous but didn't tell the Dr. that her movements slowed. My Dr. measured the fundal height, which came back perfect, and listened to Clara's heartbeat. It was strong and steady. That was enough information for me to put my worries in the back of my head. Christmas Eve, I was worried again. But, it was the holiday and I really didn't feel like worrying the kids for nothing, or ruin Christmas because of my fear. Christmas Day, I turned 25 weeks. She moved more consistently. I relaxed a little, but I still had this nagging feeling in the back of my head. The New Year came and still she wasn't moving like I thought she should. Now, I was 26 weeks and the last 3 weeks I had had to spend more time and fight to make her move. Something screamed inside me that something was very wrong, but I could not believe that MY baby could really die. No one believes it can really happen to them and I was the same. MY baby could not die. I was worried and talked to Ken about it and he said to make the appointment for the follow-up ultrasound for that week instead of 2 weeks later like we were going to do. I made the appointment, and felt a bit better. Thursday, almost 27 weeks now, the day of the appointment came and I was so nervous for that ultrasound. When we got there, the tech went to Clara's brain right away and saw that the cyst was gone and her brain looked perfect! She showed us the "butterfly" in her brain that meant the structures were formed perfectly. Then she measured her head and right away, something was very wrong. She was way too small, the size of a 23 week baby. Low amniotic fluid. An irregular heartbeat. Bad bad bad. She was in distress and struggling. I feared that we were about to watch her die right there on the screen.

We got sent to the perinatologist immediately. While waiting for that ultrasound, I held my stomach and sat in the waiting room with Ken and my grandma. All I could think about was that we cannot lose her. We would not survive it. The kids cannot go through something like this. Not my babies. Not any of my babies. I just held my stomach and was in fear of what we would find. When we finally got into the ultrasound, she looked better. They watched her heart beat for a long time and it was strong and steady. She was measuring very small though, and the amniotic fluid was low, but not as low as the previous ultrasound. The perinatologist and my Dr. felt that she would be ok for at least the next couple of weeks. They didn't think I needed the steroid shots yet to develop her lungs faster. They were going to watch her very close and make sure she was ok. I would see one of them every single week and then more often as time went on. I was to meet with my Dr. the following Thursday, almost 28 weeks, but if I was at all worried, I could come back in at any time. But, when I went in for my appointment that following Thursday, she was already gone. I KNEW it. I knew it in my heart that she was gone that whole day, but I could not believe it until that ultrasound showed my still baby. My world shattered. My whole life lost its meaning. MY child died. I didn't do enough to protect her or to keep her safe. I was so scared of something happening to her and I didn't make sure that it didn't. Maybe if I had disclosed all of my fears to the Dr.'s, they would have realized that Clara was not doing well and she needed to come out NOW! Nothing can change the decisions we made. The Dr.'s felt that she was better off in me. Ken and I thought the same thing. She needed to grow. She was so small. We won't ever know the full extent of what happened to her. She died because her cord got around her neck, but she was struggling too. Who knows if the placenta wasn't working correctly. The tests said it was fine, but it was shredded by the time pathology got it. Her cord could have failed her in more ways than one, but it was also in pieces by the time they examined it. The possible evidence got destroyed along with everything else.

I think of tiny baby sized tables in the morgue. I don't think they really have those, but sometimes I think about her in the morgue just so I can visualize everything about her presence on Earth. I think about the nurse taking her there after we said good-bye, them moving her to the fridges to preserve her little body. Her waiting there until the mortuary came and picked her up the next day. Her ride to the mortuary. How they transported her there, I don't know. Her waiting at the mortuary until her funeral on Monday. Them putting her in her casket and preparing her for us to see her one last time. The viewing room was small, but perfect. She looked beautiful in her little white casket. She looked like she was sleeping and looked comfy. The kids had no fear. When we entered the room, they ran right up to her casket and looked in at her with smiles. We touched her and admired her. We showed her off to our family that came to say their good-byes. We were proud of her. It all seems so wrong and so twisted in a way, but it also seems so right. The whole experience was so far from being ok and normal. We just did the best we could given the situation. When it was time, Ken carried her to her grave, with Nathan as an honorary pallbearer by his side. We had the most beautiful service. It was perfect for her. It was heart wrenching and incredibly hard too. The kids cried, Ken cried. I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't cry at her funeral. I had already cried so much, and I didn't want to cry then. Still, I have cried for her every day since she died. I never knew I could miss someone so much or long for them with every bit of my soul.

I try not to spend too much time thinking like this. It will only drive me crazy and it hurts way too much. The what if's and the what might have been's. It won't change anything and she can't come back. I try to think of her as happy and having fun. I don't want to think about how hard she fought the last few weeks of her life. Her silent battle that we had no idea she was fighting. I know she is at peace now and not in pain or scared or lonely.

Sometimes, I get frustrated that we didn't keep her longer. Why? There was no hurry. Everything felt so rushed with her, but in reality, we had as much time as we wanted. Who cares if we were tired, we would never have another chance to have those moments. I really wish that the kids got to hold her. They had wanted to and if I had been clearer in my head, I would have made sure that they did. We only had such a short time with her. So so short. No time would ever be enough, I know that. But what I would give to hold her just one more time.