To tell the story of Becca's birth, first I need to touch on River's birth, Becca's older sister by 21 months. River was born in the hospital on a beautiful September morning. She was born naturally, quietly, after 12 hours of intense labor. To say this baby was adorable was an understatement; she was completely, achingly, beautiful. The doctor placed her on my chest and River and I stared at each other in wide-eyed astonishment. At that moment I became River's mommy, and save a little early nursing difficulties it's been a mother-daughter fairy-tale wonderland at our house ever since.
I was 31 when River was born and I wanted at least one more baby. Charles and I agreed that we wanted our kids to be close in age so when my monthly cycle began when River was 9 months old, we decided to let nature take its course. Just after River's first birthday I became pregnant, though we wouldn't realize this until I was over seven weeks along.
I was both excited and nervous; I couldn't imagine sharing my time and energy with another child but I remember someone saying your love multiplies and somehow it just works. This time I wanted to birth either at home or at the Birth Cottage, our local birth center. The idea of bringing our next child into the world in a more relaxed, homey environment appealed to me immensely.
I was about 12 weeks along when one day I began spotting. I called the Birth Cottage and paged Layla, one of the midwives. She had me describe how much I had spotted and she said that was a bit much and to call her back if I bled anymore. An hour and a soaked Always pad later I called her back in tears, certain I was miscarrying. Layla told me what to expect if I was losing the baby. I did not want to go to the hospital, I knew there was nothing anyone could do. And then the bleeding stopped, there was no cramping, and I was as nauseated as ever from morning sickness. I went to the Birth Cottage the next day and met Alice, Layla's mother who is also a midwife, and she drew some blood to have my HcG level checked, which would tell us if I was miscarrying, and I wasn't, I was so relieved I was still pregnant!
Two weeks later I had my first official prenatal appointment with Layla, who did a pelvic exam and lots of other first prenatal appointment fun stuff. I loved her casual, personable manner, such a contrast to my appointments at the OB I had during my pregnancy with River. The next day my heart sank as I began bleeding again. I kept going about my daily chores, relaxing when I could. There was a little cramping this time and again, I was certain my pregnancy was ending. But the bleeding and the cramping stopped after a few hours, just as it had done before. I called Layla the next day and she wanted me to get an ultrasound. She set the appointment with Dr. Hume, a perinatologist, which is a doctor who specializes in high-risk pregnancies and fetal development.
At Dr. Hume's office we learned that I had a subchorionic hematoma (SCH), which is a big blood clot in my uterus that can occur when an embryo detaches from the endometrium, causing a bleed, and then reattaches. Dr. Hume said he did not think my pregnancy was at risk but that I should come back for another ultrasound in four weeks to be checked again. I was extremely relieved to hear nothing serious seemed to be happening, and I was ecstatic to learn that the baby I was carrying was a girl! Another girl to wear all the sweet clothes I'd tearfully packed away when River outgrew them, a baby sister for River, how exciting!
I had no idea that this would be the first of many, many ultrasounds.
I think Charles and I come up with the coolest names for babies. We think long and hard about the names, their meanings, the number of syllables. We've come up with a formula, for girl names anyway: one name taken from nature and one taken from the Old Testament. River Eve is our firstborn's name and we decided Rebecca Sky, Becca for short, fit beautifully with our family.
After our visit with Dr. Hume at 14 weeks my bleeding stopped and I went about my business, which included raising a toddler while trying to deal with all-day sickness and extreme fatigue. At 18 weeks I had another ultrasound with Dr. Hume, who saw that the SCH had disappeared but there was some extra fluid around Becca's heart. He assured me that it would probably disappear as she got older but that he wanted to take another look in another 4 weeks.
At 22 weeks the nausea and fatigue was easing up and I was beginning to feel better. We trudged back to Dr. Hume’s, thinking this would be our last ultrasound. I was not expecting any problems. But the fluid was still there, and he thought he also saw an anomaly in her heart, a switching of the two great vessels. We were to go to Shand’s hospital in Gainesville for further scans. Dr. Hume asked me if I’d received the blood screening that checks for genetic disorders such as chromosome anomalies. I had not, having decided with Charles that there was no point since we would never consider ending a pregnancy due to a positive result of this test. He did not comment, but said the heart condition was something that could definitely be fixed, and that there was a chance that Becca was simply turned a funny way and they could not get a good view.
This statement gave me hope and I wasn’t worried for the next few days as we awaited our appointment at Shand’s. It was now February and both my mother and sister were visiting, which was a great relief since we would be able to leave River home with them. Shand’s is two and a half hours away and this would likely be an all-day event. This way River’s day and nap schedule would not be disrupted, but I had not been away from her for this long since she was a few weeks old and I had to spend a couple of nights in the hospital. I cried as we drove off, missing my darling girl already.
It was a cold ride down. We had to turn on the defrost and my toes were freezing. Parking was strange, we had no idea where to go and ended up having to take a shuttle to the doctor’s office. Once there we did not have long to wait. An ultrasound tech began scanning me and was personable, saying “there’s your little squirt!” She worked the ultrasound probe over my belly for awhile, then left after saying that Dr. Richards would be in soon. He was and we spent the next hour doing the longest, most painful ultrasound scan I have ever had. He really pushed the probe into my belly and I wanted to say that it hurt but figured he was doing it that way for a reason. Looking back I realize I should have spoken up.
Dr. Richards said nothing during all of this. After he was finished he said that he would meet us back in another room in a few minutes. We gathered our things and headed down the hall. Again, we did not have long to wait. He came in and as he sat down across from us he began by saying, “Well, there are definitely some strange things going on in your baby’s chest.” After that Charles and I numbly listened as Dr. Richards told us our baby had only one lung, her heart was shifted over to the right side of her chest, it was a little enlarged and had a hole, and she had some thickening at the back of her neck that made him suspect Down Syndrome. An amniocentesis was recommended to test for a chromosome anomaly.
Shocked and wet-eyed, we walked back to the ultrasound room to get the amnio. There ended up being what seemed like ten people crammed into this tiny room, most of them students who were observing. We would get the results in two weeks.
I do not remember what we talked about on the way home, that evening is a blur. I do recall stopping by a restaurant to eat dinner and the next morning Charles and I were both violently ill. So we had awhile to process what we had learned before having to share the news with friends and family.
Two days after our ultrasound Dr. Richards called and offered a glimmer of hope. He thought Becca may have something called Scimitar Syndrome as opposed to a chromosome anomaly. Absence of a right lung and heart defects similar to Becca’s are symptoms of Scimitar Syndrome, and Dr. Richards stated that some people live their whole lives without realizing they have it. According to my later research, however, such cases are rare and unlikely.
Two weeks later River and I were having lunch with Charles in his office at work when I received a call from the genetics department at Shand’s. Becca had Trisomy 21, otherwise known as Down Syndrome. It was devastating news and I could barely believe what was happening to us.
And here is where I will take a brief detour back to my pre-mommy life. My job before I became River’s mom was with the Florida Agency for Persons with Disabilities. We worked with individuals with developmental disabilities to help provide them services needed to be a part of their communities as much as possible. I did not work first-hand with these individuals, but was part of the administrative team at the state office. My job was pretty fulfilling and I felt like I was making a difference in peoples’ lives, but at times it was excruciating emotionally. I managed the waiting list for the services paid for by the state, and also managed the “crisis” cases--those emergency cases that would come from around the state of individuals with developmental disabilities who were in dire straights; homeless, aging out of foster care, their caregiver was in failing health, or they were a danger to themselves or others. These cases were heartbreaking and I learned just how bad it could get for those with developmental disabilities. There were countless times I was on the phone with a desperate parent of a child with a developmental disability, and wonder to myself what on earth I would do if that were me on the other end.
And then all of a sudden it was me.
I didn’t cry. I was devastated as I drove home from Charles’s office and one piece of knowledge about Becca’s defects after another slammed into my consciousness. We didn’t need to tell many people. I sent an email out to a few friends and we called a couple of family members who would spread the word for us. We learned quickly that when you have bad news to share it’s best to share it in as few occurrences as possible.
Another appointment was scheduled for Shand’s for six weeks following our first appointment there. I was to have another ultrasound and also a visit with their perinatal cardiologist, who would examine the hole in Becca’s heart via ultrasound. Between these appointments I tried to research information about Down Syndrome babies with the types of physical defects that Becca had, but I could not find anything online. I knew that Trisomy 21 was often characterized by heart and respiratory problems, and that many of them undergo surgery for holes in their hearts, but Becca’s problems seemed to go far beyond these issues. Charles and I talked, a little, about how we felt about taking extreme measures to save Becca’s life. We anxiously awaited our next Shand’s appointment in hopes of learning more about her problems.
Finally our appointment day came and we had to leave the house at 6:30am in order to arrive in Gainesville by 8:45. Charles’s mom stayed overnight so she could watch River for us. My ultrasound with Dr. Richards was not nearly as long as the first, and afterwards we sat down again in an office down the hall. He drew some diagrams of what he saw in the ultrasound and told us he still saw the defects he noted before. In addition, he observed that Becca’s liver was partially poking into her right chest cavity, indicating a hole in her diaphragm. This is a serious condition called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia (CDH), and Dr. Richards proceeded to tell us how lucky we were that we were at Shand’s, because Dr. Kays, one of the world’s foremost surgeons in CDH was located right here. Lucky indeed. Lucky us. He scheduled an MRI to be done after my appointment with Dr. Isaac, and also said he would try to get us in with Dr. Kays before the day was out.
The ultrasound with Dr. Isaac was uneventful. He was a German native and had a sweet, respectful bedside manner that was much appreciated. He agreed there was a hole in Becca’s heart that was large enough to need surgery, though he wasn’t certain how that would fit with all of her other problems. We had to rush out to make it to the MRI on time, which was in the main hospital building on the other side of the UF campus.
I remember being very, very hungry the rest of that day at Shands. Our appointments were nearly back-to-back and we didn’t have time to eat lunch. Thankfully I had packed a couple of granola bars in my purse. Charles let me eat them both.
I had never had an MRI before. The experience was bizarre and overall unpleasant. I had to dress in a hospital gown, taking off all jewelry including my nose ring. They let Charles be in the room with me and he had to take off his ring and his glasses. I lay down on the sliding pallet that would go into the MRI chamber and was given lots of pillows for under my back and my legs and head. I would need to be in there for about 30 minutes on my back. Anyone who has been pregnant knows how painful that would be. I was also given headphones and asked what kind of music I liked--I chose Indy Rock. We proceeded with the MRI and several times I was asked to hold my breath for what seemed like an eternity so my body would be still. During those times Charles held my hands, which I had placed above my head so they would poke out of the machine. I wondered if they would be able to get any good pictures, since I couldn’t very well make Becca be still. I felt her moving all around in my belly as she tried to get comfortable with me being on my back. I was so, so glad Charles’s hands were there touching mine.
After the MRI we had to wait for awhile, I think because the technicians were making sure they got some decent pictures before they sent me on my way. They must have because I did not need to go for more scans, thankfully, and was able to get dressed and leave. My nose ring was difficult to get back in.
Next was our appointment with the world-renowned surgeon, Dr. Kays. We had a long wait. When he finally came he looked exhausted, having been in surgery all night or something. He talked about what we would need to do for Becca’s CDH. First, I would need to deliver at Shands, she would be placed immediately on a respirator, then she would have surgery to be placed on an ECMO machine that would oxygenate her blood and when she was stable on that, he would perform the surgery to fix her diaphragmatic hernia, placing her liver back where it was supposed to be and patching up the hole in her diaphragm. The average hospital stay for this is 90 days, and that did not account for the heart surgery she would need, or any accommodation that would need to be made for her only having one lung. Dr. Kays admitted he had not treated anyone with Becca’s unique set of anomalies and was not certain of the outcome. He also stated that while CDH survivors experience recovery of whatever lung was being constricted upon due to the CDH, Becca’s right lung would never grow.
We left Gainesville that day with even more questions, we didn’t know what to think or feel. Again, numbness.
Gradually over the next few weeks I poured over the internet and talked to some of my old colleagues at APD. We discussed what it might be like for Becca as a developmentally disabled individual who had severe medical problems, should she survive the onslaught of surgeries proposed by the Shands staff. There was a high possibility that she would need to be institutionalized, bedridden and hooked to machines, her entire life, however long that might be. I could not imagine not ever being able to hold her, or nurse her, or allow any child of mine to live that life. I began Googling phrases like “comfort care,” “perinatal bereavement” and “compassionate delivery,” and the idea of being in a situation where I had to hold my baby as she died tore my heart to shreds. I could not believe I was being faced with such a decision.
I am not certain when it was that Dr. Richards called again with his newest findings. I do remember I was to have a 36-week appointment two weeks later, so was probably around 34 weeks. His news was not good. After further examination of Becca’s latest ultrasounds and doing some research, Dr. Richards felt that she had an additional problem, something called Scimitar Syndrome, where among other problems her blood flowed the wrong direction between her heart and lungs. This issue would need to be surgically repaired before any other surgery, including the diaphragmatic hernia surgery. So now even more time on ECMO. Dr. Richards said he was “hopeful” there would be a positive outcome, which was not very encouraging.
One of the last inquiries I would make about Becca’s condition would be to my friend at APD who had a lot of contacts throughout the state and region. I updated her and she made some calls for me. A few days later she called me back and reported that her friend at another university hopsital who worked in the genetics department gave Becca a 7% chance of survival.
My mind ran through the three scenarios that seemed possible. We could put Becca through all of the surgeries and treatments and we might have a beautiful daughter with Down Syndrome whom we may or may not be able to ever bring home with us. Or, we could put Becca through all of the surgeries and she could die on the OR table having never felt her mommy’s arms around her or heard my voice. Or, we could do what seemed unthinkable and something no parent should be expected to do--let her be born in peace and hold her for however long she might live.
And here is where I need to be very honest. Of these three scenarios, the first is what my mind feared the most. Having had experience with cases where a child was developmentally disabled, medically involved and in need of 24-hour institutional care, I knew how devastating those situations can be for a family. I had trouble wrapping my brain around how that would affect our precious River, and what kind of quality of life there would be for Becca. Of these three scenarios, the third was what made my heart ache the most, knowing how very difficult it would be and wondering if I would be strong enough to be the one to comfort my own baby as she passed on to another life.
It was fear of the second scenario that solidified our decision. Her chance at making it through those surgeries seemed so slim. One evening the week before Mother’s Day Charles and I were walking hand-in-hand around our property after River was down for the night and my sister was inside with her, and we had a conversation that went something like this,
Me: “I am 95% sure that I do not want to treat Becca.”
Charles: “That’s good enough for me.”
And that was it, the decision was made and a weight lifted from our shoulders.
The next day I called the social worker at Shand’s, whose number we had been given by one of the doctors. She was extremely understanding of our decision and said that would not be a problem and she would let the doctors know. I had a series of weekly appointments with Dr. Hume, the perinatologist in Tallahassee, for a non-stress test (NST), where they hooked me up to an external fetal monitor (EFM) for a few minutes to see how Becca was doing. I informed him of our decision at the next appointment and he was understanding as well, stating that he would call Shand’s for us and inform Dr. Richards and cancel our upcoming 36-week appointment. Dr. Hume also arranged for us to meet with TMH’s neonatologist and perinatal bereavement team, to give me an idea of what it would be like for Becca and for them to get details about our birth plan. I did not want her to suffer in any way, or be gasping for breath. They said they would have morphine available for her if she was struggling. Charles was my rock as we made our wishes known, and I barely kept back my tears. There was never any questioning of our decision, everyone was so compassionate, understanding and respectful.
Throughout this journey I was so thankful to the midwives at The Birth Cottage. They allowed me to continue my prenatal care there and listened each month as I updated them. My care eventually shifted exclusively to Alice, who was pretty much willing to do whatever I asked of her. At one point we even discussed having Becca at The Birth Cottage but I decided that a hospital birth would be best since they had access to pain medication for Becca, and would also be more easily able to make all arrangements necessary. Since she was not authorized to deliver a baby at TMH, Alice suggested I transfer my prenatal care at the very end of pregnancy to a midwifery clinic associated with the hospital, where Donna, a friend of hers’ was one of the midwives. This way Alice would be able to attend me under the “supervision” of Donna. I would also have my doula and dear friend Lindsey there, and of course Charles.
On Mother’s Day we decided to do a maternity photo shoot in our backyard. Now that we had made our decision I wanted to honor Becca and this pregnancy in every way I could imagine. Charles has a nice camera and an artistic eye and the photos turned out beautifully. My favorite was one of River reaching up with her hand on my belly.
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| Becca, River and me on Mother's Day, 2010 |
My friend and doula Lindsey met me at a rustic park in Tallahassee called Lichgate Park. They have a labyrinth there you can walk and she walked it with me. She also helped me make a labyrinth on paper out of pastel chalks. All of these things helped me to pray and meditate and prepare for this impossible thing I was about to experience. I’m so thankful for all of our dear friends and care providers who supported us.
One of the many things that was so difficult to think about and discuss was funeral arrangements. What an awful thing to have to plan, my own baby’s funeral. We ended up asking Charles’s sister Amy to make inquiries for us so we would not have to explain our situation time and time again. She made some calls and even visited some cemeteries and presented us with options. After a little discussion we decided to have her cremated and buried along with her placenta under a tree we would plant in our backyard, with maybe a bench. Soon this idea turned into creating an entire memorial garden for Becca, with a bench and a Japanese Magnolia that we would plant over her ashes and placenta. The thought of having a special garden to tend in honor of our baby gave me a lot of comfort and we called a local nursery to begin making preparations.
At 38 weeks on the dot, my water broke at 4am and I knew that my time with Becca was drawing to a close. I was surprised because River was born at 41 weeks and I expected my labor with Becca to begin late as well. Also unlike my labor with River, contractions did not begin immediately following my water breaking. That entire day I would only have small, intermittent pains, which gave my mother time to fly to Tallahassee from Indiana. My sister also had time to drive 4 hours from Winter Haven. They both arrived that evening. All day I felt Becca moving inside me and I grieved, but at the same time I looked forward to finally holding her in my arms.
I slept that night, fairly well despite the occasional contraction. The next morning Charles and I saw Alice at The Birth Cottage while my mom and sister stayed with River at home. I was still only 1.5cm dilated, which was what I had been the week before. We set an appointment with Donna for 3pm that afternoon so she could check my amniotic fluid level via ultrasound. We came home and I sent Charles back to work; he would leave work at 2pm and come home so he could drive me to the ultrasound appointment.
The time between those two appointments is a blur now, I really do not remember what I did all day. I know my mom and sister and River must have been around. I do remember taking one last maternity photo of myself and studying the labyrinth Lindsey helped me make.
Finally Charles came home and it was time to leave for my ultrasound appointment. My contractions had picked up a little by then and they began getting stronger during the car ride. While at the appointment I was having to breathe through them a bit and Donna did not see a need to do the ultrasound, since it was apparent my labor had begun in earnest. She wrote a prescription for an oral antibiotic as a precaution, since it had been over 24 hours since my water had broken and there was a slight risk of infection. We stopped at our friends’ house, Sean and Jessica’s; Jess had assembled a postpartum package for me since my labor started so much earlier than I had anticipated. Next we went to CVS to fill my prescription. I had a strong contraction just when we had walked in the door and I leaned on Charles as I breathed through it. Nobody seemed to notice the woman in labor next to the nail polish display. My prescription would take 20 minutes to fill and I sent Charles over to the KFC across the street to get dinner for all of us while I waited next to the pharmacy. I quietly breathed through my contractions.
When we got home Charles fixed me a plate of food and I ate a little. Sitting on the couch I hugged one of our cranberry red pillows as my contractions continued to get longer and stronger until Charles suggested we go into the bedroom. I called Lindsey and let her know how things were going and she said she would come over from her home an hour away. My contractions were getting stronger and stronger and we decided it was time to go to the hospital. We called Lindsey again, who was well on her way by this time and she said she would meet us there. We gathered our things, which included a change of clothes for me, a baby blanket my grandmother had made years ago, some Powerade for my labor, and some clothes and diapers for Becca, in case a miracle happened and she lived longer than expected. We would bring these baby things home later that night, untouched.
By the time we arrived at the hospital I was in intense labor. Lindsey met us in the parking lot and helped Charles get me into the building. I was shaking uncontrollably, something else so very unlike my labor with River. We arrived at the front desk and both Alice and Donna were there waiting; Lindsey had called Alice and Alice had called Donna. As usual when you check-in to a hospital L&D there are copious forms. I could barely hold the pen and my signatures were nowhere near their designated spaces. Finally Alice had enough of all this, grabbed a wheelchair and whisked me back to a delivery room. Usually you have to go through a triage process but the hospital allowed me to skip this.
Finally in the L&D room, I shakily climbed onto the bed. I asked Alice to check me and I was 6cm. Donna threw a big stack of heated blankets over me to help with my shakes. I asked Lindsey why I was shaking so badly and she said she thought it might be nerves. She suggested I get in the tub and that sounded great. As the warm water crept over me I was able to relax, and when Lindsey put a warm wet towel over my belly I thought I would melt away it felt so wonderful. My contractions settled down a bit as well and I closed my eyes for a bit, allowing myself a time of rest.
My labor with River was extremely intense and I had barely any breaks between contractions and therefore I simply gave myself into it, slipping into Laborland. This labor was quite different, I had minutes-long breaks between contractions so I was much more aware.
After awhile I decided to get out of the tub and back in bed and the contractions became very, very strong. Surprisingly, laying on my back was most comfortable and Alice and Lindsey piled pillows around me and under my legs. I asked Alice to check me again and I was now 8-9cm, and Lindsey called the top of our phone tree, my sister I think, to signal to our family that it was time to come to the hospital. Not much longer I got on my right side and grabbed my left leg, just as I had done for River’s birth, and began pushing. I pushed with my contractions for about 15-20 minutes and Becca slid into Alice’s hands. Alice handed her to me right away and I cuddled her to my chest as Donna put a receiving blanket over us both to keep Becca warm.
I talked to my baby, I do not remember what I said though. Lindsey would tell me later that I told Becca she hurt. The thing I remember most is that Becca looked up at me from her place on my chest almost as soon as I began speaking. What a gift! She would do this only one other time, a few minutes later. I began singing to her, “Jesus Loves Me,” and I heard Lindsey join me. I had hoped to be able to nurse Becca but it was obvious that she would not be able to. She was very weak and she took only quick, shallow breaths. They asked Charles if he wanted to cut the cord and I asked if it had stopped pulsating, since I knew that once that oxygenated blood stopped flowing from me to Becca she would probably go downhill fast. Alice checked it and it had indeed stopped pulsating so the cord was cut. In the meantime I birthed the placenta and Alice worked on giving me a stitch. I had not torn but was a bit overly stretched; it had been the same with River.
Alice, Donna and the hospital nurse worked quickly to get things cleaned up, and after a few minutes they put a sheet over my bottom half and our family could come in and say hello to Becca. My sister was the first in with River, followed by my mom and Charles’ parents and sister. River, who was 21 months old, was lifted next to me on the bed and I snuggled my two girls in my arms as we all sang “Happy Birthday” to Becca. I could tell everyone was feeling a lot of emotion but they were all beautifully strong, keeping it together for Becca. River took awhile to notice her sister but when she finally did she lifted her index finger and barely touched Becca’s head which had a little vernix and blood on it, saying “messy messy!” It was a welcome moment and the room filled with laughter.
At 10:35pm, about 40 minutes after Becca was born, Alice came back into the room and checked Becca with her tiny infant stethoscope. I was so surprised when she said she could no longer hear a heartbeat. Becca had been taking the same shallow breaths for quite awhile and I thought she was just resting, fading but not gone. Alice checked again and looked at me sadly, saying “I’m so sorry, I just don’t hear anything, hon’. These breaths are probably a reflex.” I looked down at Becca not knowing what to think or say. My baby was gone and I did not even know when she passed from this life to the next. I am not sure why, but I thought I would know when that moment arrived. I did not however, and I think that was probably a blessing. Our family did not stay long after Becca died, and they each came by to touch her one last time. I continued to hold her for a few minutes as our family said their goodbyes and left.
Finally I sat up straight in the bed and laid Becca down on the pillow in front of me so I could get a better look at her. She had not wanted me to move her around once I had her on my chest so I had not really seen her face yet, save those two precious glances she gave me. I saw that Becca’s eyes were the familiar almond-shape of those with Down Syndrome, that she had wonderful chubby cheeks and a beautiful little rosebud mouth. And she had my hair, straight and yellow-blond, which made me smile as I smoothed it down. By this time her body was quiet, no more reflexive breaths, and I asked if the hospital staff could give her a bath so I could see her all cleaned up.
I did not realize how long this bath would be--with River it only took them a minute to wipe her down and get all the vernix off and they had done all of it right there in the room with me. But they took Becca out of the room and she was gone for over an hour. Lindsey and Alice stayed with me while I waited and finally Alice went out to see what was the hold-up. She came back in with Becca swaddled in a blanket and as she handed my baby to me she warned me that Becca was very cold. Indeed she was, and I wrapped her in an additional blanket, the one my grandmother made, and examined her tiny face. Almond eyes, chubby cheeks, rosebud lips, porcelain skin. My eyes stung as I said goodbye to my baby, knowing I would never again hold her, and kissed her forehead. I asked Charles if he wanted to hold her and he did not. I think he had already said his goodbyes earlier. So I removed my grandmother’s blanket and handed Becca back to Alice, who took her back out to the nurses waiting outside the room.
Soon after a nurse came in with a wheelchair and a white box for me. She said that inside were some photos they had taken of Becca, as well as some other mementos. She also gave me a crocheted blanket made and donated for such occasions. As the nurse wheeled me out of the room I was struck with how incredibly awful and unfair it was that I was leaving L&D with a box instead of a baby.
By now it was around 2am and I just wanted to go home and go to sleep, which was what we did. I slept well, and did not suffer from terrible after-pains or heavy bleeding, for which I was thankful.
The next days were something of a blur. People came by with food, we had a lot of friends who brought us so much comfort and support. The plant nursery came by and completed Becca’s memorial garden one afternoon and I thought it was beautiful. They left the japanese magnolia tree near the hole they dug so that we could plant it at her memorial service. We decided the service would be short, a few words spoken by our minister of music at church, followed by a time of placing Becca’s ashes in the hole and then planting the tree. The morning before the service Charles took Becca’s placenta and buried it a little deeper in the hole. Amy had arranged with the funeral home to have Becca’s ashes pressed into molds so they resembled a thick kind of paper, and this worked very well because several family members were able to take turns placing the papers in the hole. And then Charles planted the tree and that was it. After that we went over to Charles’s grandmother’s house and had a short brunch.
The most difficult part about the days following Becca’s birth and death was that my breasts did not know that I had no baby to nurse. They became very sore and whenever I cried I leaked. In fact, all anyone had to do was say her name and I would leak breast milk. I had to buy some nursing pads, which seemed so tragic. I tried not to cry in front of anyone because I wanted to keep my grief to myself, not because I was embarrassed about it or ashamed, but because my grief was precious to me and I wanted to be selfish with it. My morning shower became my mourning shower. Throughout this entire time and the days and weeks following I was very thankful for our River, who gave me a good reason not to fall apart. She needed me to be her mommy and not some shadowy, unresponsive figure of a mommy. Falling apart was a luxury I could not afford.
Days and weeks passed and eventually my milk dried up and those pains subsided, and we went about the rest of our summer. We had River’s birthday in September and I began running again, which felt amazing.
And now it is the next September and I am 38 weeks pregnant with our third baby girl, whom we are naming Elizabeth Sunshine, “Lizzie” for short. For some reason I feel that I cannot have this baby until Becca’s story has been told. And so here it is, and I hope that it may help someone who is faced with a similar situation. If you decide to go a different route that is up to you. We have no regrets and are certain of the decision we made to allow Becca to pass away in peace, in my arms. I do wish a little that we had some professional photographs taken of Becca but when we were doing our planning we decided we didn’t want anyone extra in the room. We have a few photos that Lindsey took with our camera and I am very grateful for them, as they document Becca’s short life with us. The hospital took some photos of Becca while they had her that hour for her bath. It took several days for me to be able to look at them because she looks so deathly, but now I am glad we have them because they are the only close-up pictures we have of her.
I love the inscription on the bench Charles’s parents got for Becca’s garden. The bench is stone, and on the seat it says,
“Rebecca Sky Howard--June 2010
To our sweet baby girl,
From our arms to our Heavenly Father’s
We carry your heart (we carry it in our hearts)
Love Mama, Daddy and River”
I will never forget you Becca, and I look forward to seeing you again in eternity. Your big sister thinks of you often and loves looking at your pictures and going through your memory box. You will always be part of our family.
Love,
your mommy
