I always go back to so many important dates in the past 2 months. I replay the evening my water broke - the day our world turned upside down.
I remember the Dr. coming in and saying, "Well the baby looks great..." as if everything were OK. Then he says, "The problem is, your fluid is almost completely gone." He showed no emotion in his voice. He was so cold about it and I couldn't believe how he came in as if everything were fine, only to deliver that horrible news to me. I knew it had happened - I could see it on the ultrasound - But to hear it come from his mouth...that was hard. The OB Dr. then came in. He was much sweeter, much more soft-spoken.
Still, he gave us the choice that no mother should ever have to make. I remember him telling me they could induce labor.
I was fine, Cameron was fine, and yet he was asking ME to stop my babies heart. No way could I ever do such a thing. I remember the moment I made the decision to keep going. For Cameron...
I replay the evening we went to the hospital on July 30. I wasn't too worried, and assumed we would be back home again the next day, as it happened before. I remember lying there on the bed as the nurse brought in the u/s machine because she couldn't find Cam's heartbeat. The feeling I had running through me when I saw him there, his little heart fluttering away, is indescribable. I was so relieved and happy, but there was a sadness. I knew deep down something was wrong.
My instincts throughout the entire pregnancy had been amazingly strong. From the moment Cam was conceived, I had a feeling something wasn't right. I thought I was just being over paranoid, but I knew better than that...I just tried ignoring it.
Knowing that my instincts were strong scared me that night.
I remember being woke up at 2:30am to check his heart. It was a beautiful sound to remember before I fell asleep. I woke up at 6:30, knowing they would be in to check his heart again in 30 min. Chev got up and got ready to leave for work. He walked out the door, but I thought nothing of it.
Once again, she couldn't find his heartbeat. This time, my heart started racing a bit faster. She went and got the charge nurse and had her check - nothing. I knew something was wrong then. They got the u/s machine...
Myself, the OB, and my nurse sat there in silence. You could have heard a pin drop. I held my breath as she put the wand on my belly. I didn't look at the screen at first. I scanned the Dr's face and then quickly looked at the nurse to see her face. The Dr. adjusted her glasses and moved the wand a bit more. I looked at the nurse again....she raised her hand to her mouth. I knew. I finally looked at the screen. Everything was so still. Not the slightest of movement from my baby boy. I searched frantically for movement in his chest, but there was nothing.
I remember a feeling of immense grief come over me in that second. I almost forgot to take a breath. Then, when I finally did, I couldn't stop. I went into full panic mode and thought I would start hyperventilating. All I could say was, "Oh God!!!"
I don't remember much after that. I was in shock. I was making the call to Chev and to my mom. To tell them Cameron was gone. I held it together well over the phone and didn't cry much the rest of the afternoon.
I knew what was to happen.
I remember them coming in to give me the medicine to start labor. I didn't want it. I didn't want my body to let go of him. There was such sadness in me when they administered the medicine. I just felt numb...
I remember when it was time. I broke down then because I knew he was coming. I didn't have a choice at that point. It's like being on a roller coaster. You get up to the very top, just before you drop, and you want to get off but you know you can't. You can't go back. It's a scary, panic-stricken feeling.
I remember when he was born. My sweet angel. I held him and just stared at him. He was so little, but so perfect. I remember his little hand being under his cheek, with the other one resting on his heart. It was beautiful. I didn't cry. I felt a great sense of peace holding him in my arms. I have no doubt in my mind that that peace came from a holier being. It was like I had angels there with me, comforting me as I held my forever sleeping son.
I remember that first night. How awful that was. It was sinking in and I hated it. I felt so empty inside and so alone. I wanted Cameron with me! I knew he was just down the hall, in the nursery, but I wanted him back inside me and for him to be fine like he was just a month before! It's a feeling that no one could understand....unless they've lost a baby.
I don't remember much about the days after. I was in a fog. I remember taking a nap on the couch. I woke up, and I was holding my belly. I cracked my eyes and wondered if everything had been a dream. Then, I opened my eyes and looked over at the table and saw the bag that had all of Cameron's things in it. I closed my eyes again and just laid there.
I remember the bittersweet feeling I had when we picked up his tiny urn from the funeral home. I was so happy to have Cameron back, but was heartbroken that I was bringing him home that way.
And I remember each day that passes. I will remember yesterday as another day without my baby, and that's how it'll always be.
I'm glad I get to remember, because I never want to forget a single thing about him. It's just hard when the memories are so sad.
I so look forward to the day when we bring home Aiden and Cameron's little brother or sister. I will look at that baby as a gift from my sweet angel, and as a promise that life is still beautiful even when things have seemed to turn so ugly.