Delivery Day
I woke up early to shower and get things ready for the day with tears streaming down my face. We dropped Michaela off at daycare very early and headed to the hospital. It was a long, quiet drive. What do you say when you know you are on the way to the hospital to deliver your child, but you won’t be taking him home?
When we walked through the hospital doors, I lost it. I could not believe I was walking in to a hospital where I was about to deliver my baby who was no longer alive. My husband embraced me and helped me walk to the elevator. Still crying, I felt a huge weight on my shoulders that would not go away for a very long time.
We got to L&D and checked in. The day was so somber. I’ve always been a very happy person. On this day, I was not that person anymore. I was angry, sad, hurt, in denial, mad; all kinds of feelings were swirling inside of me.
I was hooked up to an IV and they started pitocin to get my labor going. I wasn’t supposed to be in labor. My baby was supposed to still be alive and I was supposed to keep him safe. What had I done wrong? How was I not able to keep this precious baby inside of me safe? Why was this happening to me? Was this really happening?
My husband’s parents came up there and were with us all day. I had contractions on and off through out most of the day. We tried to talk about things but nothing could take my mind off of what was going on. At one point, I remember watching a bloopers video on Facebook and started laughing. I was so ashamed. I should not be laughing during this moment. I shouldn’t be watching something to make me laugh. So, I didn’t.
We needed to find a name for Baby J. We went through many names that we could go with but decided on Jay. That is what we had been calling him from the time I found out I was pregnant until then. So, Baby J was now named Jay Martin Rodriguez, our 2nd child.
I laid there staring out the window waiting for each contraction to pass. The contractions were very mild at first but steadily got worse. After about 11 hours in labor my contractions became unbearable. I was on plenty of pain meds but they weren’t taking the pain away. They called the anesthesiologist in to give me an epidural and everyone left the room. I was alone with the nurse and anesthesiologist. While I was waiting for them to give me the epidural I had this horrible burning sensation below and felt the urge to push. It was too late for the epidural, Jay was coming. I laid back down on the table and Jeremy came back in. My doctor soon followed.
Without the epidural I was feeling a lot of pain. My doctor gave me tons of pain medicine to help with the pain. The pain was unbearable. Why was I having my child and wouldn’t hear him cry? Why am I going through this pain and leaving the hospital with empty arms?
After about what seemed like an hour of pushing he finally came out. He was still in the amniotic sac, my amniotic sac that was supposed to protect him. My doctor took him back to see if she could see anything that made him pass. The cord was not wrapped around his neck but was kinked. She said this could have been due to the lack of oxygen after Jay passed or it was always like that and slowly cutting off nutrients from getting to him. There was no way to tell which one was the answer. Upon examining him, she found nothing wrong. She took blood samples from myself and Jay to see if they could find an answer that way.
Once they examined him they brought him back to us. I had borrowed a friends camera with the intentions of taking pictures of Jay, so I would have photographs of him. I couldn’t bring myself to take the pictures, neither could my husband. I could just hold him and look at him. He was so perfect. Ten toes, ten fingers, a cute chin and a button nose. He weighed almost 1 pound. I was so sad and angry. I shouldn’t be holding my 1 pound baby in my arms. He should still be in my tummy being protected by me. The only pictures we ended up getting were of each of us holding him and our doctor sent us a beautiful picture she took of his feet. This is all I have left to remember him. I regret not getting more pictures but treasure the ones I do have.
I still had to stay in the hospital for the night on the postpartum floor, with women who had their babies; were holding and loving on their babies. The hospital staff was wonderful. I was put in a room away from the other mothers and did not hear any cries the whole time I was there. My best friend stayed the night with me so that my husband could be home with our daughter. She didn’t know what was going on and we weren’t sure how to tell her.
The next morning, my husband dropped off our daughter and came up to the hospital with my dad who drove in to be with us. The hospital pastor came by our room to pray for us. We were given a children’s bible, a small box with tiny knitted shoes, a book to write my thoughts and feelings in and a little stuffed white lamb. We were given information about cremation and setting up a memorial service. My husband took care of calling and setting up a time for us to go speak to a funeral home about the memorial service.
I felt so cold and numb. This was unbelievable to me. How could I have lost my baby? Why was this happening to me? So many thoughts and feelings ran through my mind. Later that morning, I was wheeled out of the hospital with pain pills, the tiny mementos we were given, empty arms, and my mind not grasping what was going on.
