And Then...

...Everything changed.

You know those moments that are defining moments...where your life is divided into before and after from that point?  Moments that change your entire way of looking at the world?

That's what this post is about.

After Sam, we had to wait a few years to get pregnant again - mostly to fit it in with James' 6 month deployment to Kosovo.

Finally, in 2001, it was time.  He was back, and our moving date home to Canada was set for June.

I got pregnant right away again - in May - so we were looking forward to an early February baby.  We moved home, found a house to rent, and became settled in our new Canadian life.

This pregnancy was just fine - like all of the others to this point.  Even though the ultrasound wasn't conclusive - I knew we were having another girl.

Okay, here's a true confession.  Every pregnancy in my third trimester, I start to daydream about having to be on bed rest.  I know - it would probably suck - but I will fantasize about someone telling me I HAVE to lie in bed all day and do nothing...

This time though, while I was entertaining those thoughts - I just knew that something would happen between Christmas and New Years - when I was 36-37 weeks pregnant.  I just felt like I would need to send my other kids to spend that time with my parents - I figured it was just either pre-term labour (yay to bedrest!) or pre-term baby.

Anyway, here's what happened.

On Thursday Dec 27th, we came home late from a family get together - and I fell into bed.  Usually this baby would wake up and start kicking as I was trying to fall asleep - but this night, she didn't.  I remember feeling relieved - for about 10 seconds until I fell asleep.

The next day, my midwife came for the "at home" visit.  When she tried to find the heartbeat there was nothing.  The other little kids were on my bed with us, and she had them put their hands on my stomach and asked them to send all of their love to the baby.  Hokey yes, but still a good memory and one that she and I have revisited over the years.

Long story short, I spent the day trying to get the baby to move,  without any success.  I waited until the next afternoon to phone my midwives again, I just needed the time to wrap my head around what was happening.

We met at the hospital to confirm what I already knew - the baby had died. 

The next morning, Sunday by this time, James and I were in the hospital and I was being induced.  It was a long day of waiting first for the doctor to sign off on the drugs, and second for those drugs to take effect and for labour to start.  We spent the day reading and preparing ourselves for this very different delivery.  At one point, in the elevator back up to the labour and delivery floor, another soon-to-be dad struck up a conversation.  His wife was in labour too, and they were both so excited and nervous.  It was a tough conversation - "good luck"  he said, "I hope it all goes well".  Normal things to say, but not a normal delivery.  We knew the outcome, and it wasn't what we wanted.  But you know, you don't really spew all that at a stranger and ruin his day too.  The nice thing about being with my midwives was that once the doctor had signed off, we were left alone without any intrusions from the hospital staff.

Have you ever been induced?  Well, once those contractions started, they came regularly - evenly spaced for exactly the same amount each time.  This labour I knew that if things got bad, I was going to go right for the drugs - but they weren't needed.   After only a few hours of regular contractions, I felt like things were going pretty good - but not unbearable. 

At this time, I remember turning to James and saying that I was ready - ready to see our baby.  Remember, we didn't know for sure when she had died, but I thought it was probably on that Thursday evening.  And we weren't sure just what she would look like...not to be too graphic, but you know what happens to things that die...

I came out of the shower and was walking over to the bed - my midwife was just going to check how far I was along (and then we'd talk about medication if I wanted it) - when my water broke.  There I was, completely naked, surrounded by James and 2 midwives who were fully clothed - and my water broke all over their shoes and pants, and really none on me at all!  And this wasn't your nice clear healthly water - oh no, this was tarry and black.  Ooops!

Anyway, long story short - push, push, push and there she was.  I was lying on the bed, and as soon as she was born, before I took a look - I had to ask my midwife how she looked.  Her answer:  "Beautiful".  And she was.  She was our beautiful baby girl. 

We spent the rest of the night just holding her.  We took pictures to remember her, and my parents and sister came to see her with our other kids.  I can't really describe those hours.  Looking, holding, snuggling...so familiar yet so different.  Holding a baby with no muscle tone, and no responsiveness. Finally, it was time to go.  We were told we could stay as long as we wanted, as long as we needed to.  I think I would still be there today if James didn't tell me it was time to go.  After about 6 hours, I held and kissed her one last time, laid her in the bassinet in the care of my midwife, and then we left the hospital empty-handed.   Hands down, leaving her behind was the hardest thing I have ever done.

We named her Isabel, a family name from the Irish side of my family.  She was stillborn on Dec 30.  She was tiny - only 5lbs, 6ozs.

[Side note:  we didn't have an autopsy performed, but we found out later from a DNA anaylsis of the placenta that she had Down's Syndrome.  Heart problems are common with this condition, and it's believed that once she reached a certain size, her heart just gave out.  For a long time I agonized over that knowledge - what if, I said, what if I'd just gotten pregnant a month before or a month later.  Then she wouldn't have had Down's Syndrome.   Then I would have a living baby.  But  I know that in reality, Heavenly Father had a different plan for that child, and the Down's was just the means to accomplish his goal.]