Lillianna's Birth Story

 On Wednesday, March 9th, I had a midwife appointment.  I was just over 35 weeks along and my midwife was asking me questions about specific thoughts and desires I had for my upcoming birth.  We were, of course, planning a waterbirth at home.  I told her that if at all possible I wanted to have Sebastian as near as possible because he desperately wanted to witness the actual birth.  I told her about Dominic asking me every day if I was going to push the baby out and how he was going to help me with his "strong muscles" and warning me, "if you don't push that baby out soon it's going to get bigger than Jane!"  I told her that even though I knew it was silly to think I could choose when the baby would arrive, I had every intention of giving birth around a week or so early (my due date was April 20th) because Josh was scheduled to go out of town for work on the 19th and I wanted him to be there for the birth and have a few extra days at home with the new baby and I.  I was light-hearted and glib and excited and silly and every other feeling that normally goes with the anticipation of an impending birth.  We listened to the heartbeat and the baby kicked the doppler away and was very active.  She palpated my belly and commented how quickly this baby was growing and how there would be no trouble at all if I went in to labor a little early.  I went home and talked Josh's ear off about our baby's arrival and all of my plans.

On Sunday March 13th, we were going to bed after a long and busy day visiting Josh's family and grandmother.  I was exhausted and starting to drift off to sleep I noticed what I didn't notice - this was normally when the baby (I didn't know yet if it was a boy or a girl) was most active.  I tried to think about the last time I specifically noticed movement.  When I'm active and things are busy it would take a lot to get my attention from the inside.  I couldn't recall anything from that day, which was not all that surprising, but I knew there had been within a day or two before that.

The next morning we all had to get up ridiculously early to follow Josh to the car repair place to drop off his car and give him a ride home.  When we got home I was tired and decided to take a nap while Josh started nesting on my behalf.  He was sweeping up our room, but I was so tired I assured him his activity wouldn't bother me in the least and I would be out quickly.  Again, laying there still in my bed I realized that I hadn't felt any movement that morning either.  I started poking at my belly trying to get a response.  I asked Josh come and try to make the baby move.  He was gentle at first but as there was no response I demanded that he be more aggressive.  He pushed in harder and harder and what I felt was not the baby moving  but rather being moved from one side of my belly to the other.  I had him push again from the other side and I felt pressure on my front hip bone every time he pushed - most likely her head being pushed against my pelvis.

That's when I got scared.  I knew it just was not possible to manipulate a live baby that much without some response.  A kick, a butt-wiggle, anything.  My anxiety took off.  I drank a coke as a last-ditch effort to instigate some movement and Josh suggested I call the midwife.  He felt that my concerns were valid but he also really thought the baby was fine.  Just taking a long nap perhaps.

I called the midwife and she agreed that there was cause for concern and asked me to come see her at noon.  While I got ready to go I couldn't stop expressing all of my fears to Josh.  I was rambling and scared - "If this baby has died, then what do we do? Do we go to the hospital and they induce?  I will have to give birth to a dead baby!  I can't do that!  And then there will be a funeral.  I can't, I can't, I just can't do this!"  He was calm.  He said that no matter what happened we would get through it.  He suggested that we stay optimistic for now.  Seeing how anxious I was he called my mom and asked her to pick me up and take me to see the midwife.  At this point it was just more practical for him to stay home with all of the kids.

My mom kept the conversation light on the drive to the midwife's house.  I know I was tapping my fingers a mile a minute and I felt jumpy and distracted.  I don't know if she was able to sense my distress or not.  When we got to Amy's house we went right in to her couch and she got out the doppler.  She found a heartbeat right away.  She felt my pulse, which was racing, and matched the sound coming from the machine to me.  She moved the wand around some more.  She changed the batteries in the doppler.  She thoroughly went around every area of my belly.  My own heart rate continued to increase so she rechecked my pulse every time and every time it matched.  Then she felt my belly with her hands and noticed, as I did earlier, that not only was there no response there was also no "tone".

At this point I was crying very quietly and my mom was holding my hand.  She was shocked.  She was always more than willing to be my support person and to do anything she could to relieve my fears.  She had gone with me to my impromptu 18 week ultrasound when I freaked out because I hadn't felt the baby move yet, and in all my other pregnancies I had felt movement far earlier.  The baby was fine then (anterior placenta was cushioning her kicks) and she assumed that the baby would be fine this time as well.

Amy had never had a baby die before in over 400 births.  She called a fellow midwife who had had a similar experience a few years before and asked her for advice.  I called Josh who was expecting a phone call to let him know that all was fine and I'd be home shortly.  Amy called the hospital that she normally dealt with for transfers and let them know our situation and that we were coming in.  Mom left to switch places with Josh and pick up the kids so Josh could meet me at the hospital.

At the hospital we went directly up to the L&D Ward.  The receptionist at the desk smiled and asked me "Are you here to have a baby?"  I just stammered, "Ummm....ummm....."  Amy quickly let her know that we were there because she couldn't find a heartbeat.  Amy had suggested tentatively a couple of times that maybe she was wrong and we would find a miracle on the ultrasound but I think we both knew better.  They took us right back to a delivery room.  The nurse (who was wonderful) asked if I wanted to wait for Josh to get there to do the ultrasound.  I said no, knowing that I already knew that my baby was gone, and that putting off the ultrasound would just mean more pointless waiting.

The very annoying, very rude, very self-important doctor came in with the ultrasound machine.  She very roughly and very abruptly shoved the wand around my belly.  The screen was turned away from me and even though I knew, I asked shyly, "nothing?"  Abrupt and in character she replied, "I'm just getting a look around at everything."  Amy asked her to turn the screen so I could see.  It crossed my mind to ask if it was a boy or girl, but I thought it might sound petty and the doctor's demeanor wasn't exactly inviting or conducive to questions.

She finished up and very quickly said that there was no heart beat and to see more we would have to use a better machine, but wow what a sucker punch and I must be very shocked right now and she would leave and give me time to process and come back in a bit to discuss induction options.....I'm pretty sure she didn't look at my face one time while rattling off her spiel.  I was glad that she wasn't my doctor, and I didn't need her compassion, and no, she wasn't delivering the news for the first time, I already knew from my meeting with my wonderful compassionate midwife.

Josh showed up and we cried and waited.  My mom showed up and we cried and waited.  My midwife stayed and we waited.  I informed everyone that I had every intention of using drugs for this labor because the idea of participating in and feeling a labor and birth for a dead baby was horrific and unfathomable to me.  However I maintained my fear of the epidural and declared that I wouldn't be having one.

The doctor came again and said we would induce with cytotec.  As a natural birth fanatic I had an immediate negative reaction and refused the cytotec in favor of cervadil.  The doctor didn't appreciate being questioned and said that my concerns about cytotec were baseless, but couldn't force me to have something that I refused.  I was annoyed because I had no intention of being a difficult patient and now, in her eyes I was.  I already had an IV in I was hooked up to the EFM (things I simply wouldn't consent to for a normal healthy labor...but then, for a normal healthy labor I wouldn't be at the hospital either).  I saw no point in being difficult since my baby was already dead.  As I thought about that I realized that my aversion to cytotec was based on the dangers to a live baby.  However, the cervadil was already in and it was too late (according to the doctor) to switch for another 12 hours.

Josh's dad came.  We waited and waited and waited.  We chatted and made small talk.  A priest came.  He had a very heavy accent from "somewhere" and we understood very little of what he said, but he was kind and caring. Amy offered some ideas of moving around or bouncing on the birth ball or nipple stimulation to get labor started.  I refused.  I wanted nothing to do with this labor.  I wanted absolutely no part of it and I would not do things that a normal laboring woman might do to help it along.  There was nothing normal about it.  Really I wished they could just knock me out and wake me when the baby was born.

Josh and mom and I all slept at the hospital.  On Tuesday we switched to cytotec and waited some more. Josh's dad came back.  At some point I started feeling contractions and asked for morphine.  They gave me a machine with a button I could push every 15 minutes, but without the usual 4 hour time limit on how long I could use it.  Eventually the contractions got stronger and I changed my mind about the epidural.  It wasn't as bad as I feared and they let me continue the morphine along with the epidural.

My aunt and uncle came and visited for a little while, but I fell asleep.

When I woke up they were gone and I could feel extreme pressure down below.  I announced that something was happening and the nurse checked me and saw that the baby was crowning.  She asked Amy if she wanted to catch the baby and she did.  At 8:23 pm, Lillianna came out without me even pushing and Amy put her directly on my chest.  Immediately someone spotted the knot in her cord.  Josh said that it was so tight it nearly blended in with the rest of the cord.

I don't remember exactly in what order things happened at this point.  I know that we checked and saw she was a girl and I was crying and I kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."  I think I was apologizing to Lillianna and to Josh, but for what I'm not sure.  I had been imagining her being very cold so I was shocked and delighted at how warm she was coming directly from my body.  I excitedly told Josh, "She's warm, come feel her, she's so warm!"  For just the briefest moment I thought maybe everyone was wrong and she was alive, but the limpness of her limbs made the truth abundantly clear.

Suddenly Josh and I were alone in the room with her.  We held her and we cried.  We looked at her beautiful precious little body.  She wasn't particularly small for a newborn.  The top layer of skin was peeling away on various parts of her body (like when a sunburn peels), but not on her face.  Her face was so perfect and beautiful. She had Sebastian's nose.  Her lips were extraordinarily red.  Her tongue must have been stuck to the roof of her mouth because we were both startled when it dropped down.  It looked, for just a moment, like she was moving her tongue herself.  I put my finger in her mouth and felt her tongue.  It was wet and felt just like the inside of a living baby's mouth.  In the few hours that we had her I kept putting my finger in her mouth and thinking how normal it felt though it would never root around trying to latch on to my knuckle or wrist or face or whatever else was nearest letting me know that she wanted to nurse.  Her face and her hands were so soft, just like any newborn.  She was perfect.  Just absolutely perfect.  Her nose kept bleeding, which I think would have sounded horrific to me before she came, but it didn't bother me.  We just kept dabbing it away with a tissue or with her blanket.

Gradually people started coming back into the room.  My mom held her and Josh's dad held her.  My sister Amanda came and she held her.  I wanted everyone to look at her and touch her and hold her and see how beautiful she was.  A photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep came and took pictures.  He was excellent and very unobtrusive.  Josh sat in the rocking chair holding our sweet baby girl and he put on the song "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton and sang to our precious angel.  It was the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing I've ever seen.

The nurse weighed and measure her.  At 36 weeks Lillianna was 5lb. 6oz., and 19 inches long.  She took her hand prints and footprints for us.

We could have stayed longer.  We could have held her longer.  We could have slept with her, and I imagine that this time the nurse wouldn't have lectured us on the dangers of co-sleeping (*rolls eyes*) like they did when Isaak (my only other hospital birth) was born over 10 years ago.  But as her skin was peeling more and more, and as her face seemed to want to soften it's shape, and when I would occasionally notice that I had carelessly allowed her arm or her leg to fall in to a distorted and unnatural position, I wanted to let her go before she changed too much.  Now I wish I held her more.

We held her and kissed her one last time before the nurse wrapped her whole body, including her head, in those blue chux pads.  She taped the wrappings shut.  The nurse led the way and we followed as Josh carried our little Lillianna down the hall.  There was a miniature freezer in what appeared to be a brightly lit storage room.  Josh placed her inside and we said goodbye.