On this weekend, I want to honor my daughter, Genevieve. She's changed our lives forever. Our plans are to visit her grave and decorate it for the holidays with other families doing the same for the babies they also lost. I don't write this to bring sadness but to celebrate a baby we love who went to heaven on her delivery day.
A year ago this Thanksgiving weekend I was pregnant with Genevieve. I was huge. Everywhere I went people would comment on me possibly being over due or carrying twins. I waddled. I was in that reflux stage. Breathing was a bit harder. But, everywhere we went, Christopher was so proud of his sister I was carrying. He would talk to her, hug her as though she was already out in the world. They already shared a special bond. He couldn't wait to see her out of this temporary home.
On that Sunday night of Thanksgiving weekend, Steve and I had our first talk about what we would do if I went into labor -- who would take care of Christopher, who would fly my mom down, these types of details. After that talk, we text Diane, a close friend and asked her should I go into labor in the wee hours of the night anytime between now and the next 2 months could she come over and take care of Christopher. She immediately text back to say she'll be on call for the next 2 months for us. It felt like a huge relief.
The next morning, November 30th, I woke at 530am. When I got out of bed, my water broke. I was calm. I knew what this meant. Time to wake Steve, have him pack a bag while I text Diane to come and watch Christopher. While Steve packed, I text my friend, Amy Rider Johnson, and asked if she could make arrangements with my mom to fly down. I went to my online class and released the final exam a week early. Then, when Diane came (which was within 10 minutes), Steve and I drove to the hospital.
When I got there, they wheeled me up. I was calm still. Then when I filled out papers for checking in, I couldn't stop crying. I fought tears that whole time. My hands trembled.
The hospital was quick about getting us a room. While in the room Steve and I did some strategizing "Ok, they are going to say to deliver vaginally, but I really want the c-section. I don't want her to suffer unnecessarily. If she's trying to be born now she's already having a hard time. She's already fought so hard. I want her to be ok. The c-section will be the easiest for her."
So in our strategy, we came up with answers for every potential denial they might have for the c-section versus regular birth process. They did this with Christopher saying I was an athlete and it should be easy for me. We lost that battle and Christopher was stuck ... we could have both died...Then ultrasound tech and nurse came in to check her heart. Her heart beat was there, which is always a huge relief for any mom to see. Huge relief. They left. We continued planning.
Like predicted, the doctors came in and said we need to deliver vaginally " it's safer for mom", "mom is healthy" "mom is strong" etc etc. We were concerned with her health not mine. We both said we want the c-section. The doctor left and said they'll discuss it with my doctor who was on route from Thanksgiving vacation; she would be there in a few hours.
A few minutes later, another doctor came in with ultrasound equipment. 3 nurses were in my room -- one finishing a shift, one starting a shift, and their supervisor. Steve was there. The doctor did the ultrasound of her heart again to check on her status. When he had the device over her heart, allowing us all to hear her heart beat, there was relief again. For all of us. We then all heard what sounded like a larger heart beat and then we could all see her kick along the left side of my belly. The nurse asked if I felt that. I said "Oh, yeah. She's a strong one." Then what happened was unreal.
The doctor said it stopped. We lost the heartbeat. I said "No!" I cried out in disbelief "Do it again!" Do it again!" My voice cracked as tears rolled down my cheeks. "It's there! I know it's there!" My throat tightened, tears then streamed down faster. I paused, looked at the machine, then I sobbed. I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. I made the doctor look hard for that heart beat. She was gone.
I cried and reached for ultrasound screen as though it were a person. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!" I cried like my baby. I ached and trembled all over. I just couldn't believe it. Steve held me while I cried like a floppy doll. Everyone in the room wiped tears. "This is not happening...no...nooooo!"
This was a year ago. But, I still remember it like it were today. I lost my baby. Who loses a baby?! I just couldn't believe it. My baby!
I cried for a good long time, but not long enough. It seemed like right away they planned for delivery. What?! Delivery?! I can't ...no...no ... I can't do this ...please don't make me do this!...don't..." My words got weaker and I just cried harder into Steve's arms. Steve told them "...she can't do this. Is there anyway she could have a c-section. She's not going to be able to do labor knowing this..."
Celebrating all babies today. Babies are true miracles on this earth and in heaven.
In the course of our lives we'll all lose loved ones -- parents, siblings, spouses, friends. Each time this happens, we become so aware of how short life really is and how it will have to end some day. I felt this way when my dad died 8 years ago. And, when my daughter died on delivery day a year ago today, I felt another level of loss.
But I don't want to live my life as a series of losses: I see these as a series of gains. I'll always treasure the experiences I was given with my loved ones no matter how long or short. I wish I could have the lyrics in the Five for Fighting song "100 Years" where they say "There's never a wish better than this when you only got 100 years to live". But since I can't predict I'll get 100 years, I want to take it all in for whatever time I've got -- the good, the bad, the unreal. This Thanksgiving season, I want to give thanks to all my family and friends for sharing this ride with me. I am truly blessed.
(I found this on today's anniversary. I had written it on Nov 30 2010 but never posted it, so I posted it -- hence the date of nov 30, 2025. She would have been sweet 16... still sweet 16)
