Continuing on...
After the fetal demise nurse left us for the night my mom came back with our hospital bag we had packed a few days before. Jake's grandparents then came up at about midnight, they were distraught and confused and needed to be with us for a bit. That's what everyone said - "I just need to be with you guys". I know no one knew what say to us or do to help us. I wouldn't know what to do if I was trying to be there for someone - honestly, I would be grateful it wasn't me. I'm also sure that many at some point either said it or thought just that - I'm grateful it wasn't me, or at the very least I hope they realize just how blessed they are to have their children safe in their arms.
At about 1:30am I asked for the epidural after that was finished and the pain from contractions was finished I finally tried to get some rest. At 3:30am I was woken up due to shift change and I met my second nurse. The first RN was fantastic, but the second was even more so. I can't thank the both of them enough for everything they did for my family, they showed such compassion and strength for us.
I watch a couple movies while Jake rested and woke again just before 7:00am. I looked at my phone and through the night my facebook and text messages exploded with friends, family, and friends of friends sending thoughts and prayers. It didn't hit me right away that this was actually real until then. I genuinely thought this was just a bad dream and I was going to hold my little girl today and everything would be ok.
My doctor came in at 8:00am, I had no idea how he would react to this. I had just seen him on the Friday before and everything was fine, he predicted that she would be born this week, but not like this. No one could have predicted this. Doc walked in and had went straight over to Jake and I and held our hands, and held back tears. My OB has been an doctor for 25 years and is usually a man of few words and is also one of the most intelligent, well spoken persons I have ever met. I have always trusted him completely and still do. When he turned to talk to me all he said over and over was how sorry he was, I could tell he was blaming himself - as if there was some way he should have known this was going to happen. I found myself reaching out to him and explaining to him how he has nothing to justify to me, just to help me through this and help us find answers.
He checked me and broke my water, I was at a 3 and her head still wasn't in position. Saying that hearing that news made me upset doesn't begin to explain how devastated I was. After 12 hours of labor I expected to be at at least 5cm. My labor with Rory, my first daughter, was 2.5 days of labor on pitocin, I was seeing this labor turn in to a marathon too.
I asked my doctor to give me a c section, dreading the long labor it seemed I was going to have. He explained that in these situations they urge the mother and family to try and deliver naturally and hold off on a c section unless the mother is in danger or labor is stalled and not kicking back up. I told him I didn't think I could do it, which I didn't. How was I suppose to just sit there laboring and then expected to push my dead child out of me? It was impossible to wrap my head around. Impossible that all these people expected me to do this and "be strong". It made me angry, none of them were expected to this impossible thing. Doc then encouraged me, Jake encouraged me. Somehow they convinced me that I am stronger than I know.
Jake's dad and his dad's wife came to the hospital at about noon. I napped again. At 1:30pm I started to feel some pressure and asked to be checked. I was at a 7 - THANK GOD! At 2:15pm I started to feel this intense pain and pressure and knew it was almost time. I needed more pain medicine I did not want to feel her coming out. I did not want to feel the pain of her ripping through my body. I was at a 9 at 2:25pm and begging to push. My room turned into chaos at that point. My nurse was running around trying to set everything up, trying to get my pain medicine, trying to get my doctor down to my room and trying to keep me and Jake calm while talking me through my contractions that I could now completely feel as if my epidural wore off. It was hell.
At 2:40pm my body was ready and I was at a 10, her head was low and perfectly were it needed to be. That's when reality hit me. I looked at Jake and told him I couldn't do this. I couldn't deliver her, I had to keep her inside me where she was suppose to be safe and protected from everything. I apologized to him for losing her, for doing something wrong. This is one of the moments I will remember forever. My man is just that a Man. He has this incredible strength and understanding of me. It's not the words that he said, it was how he just held me and held my hand while I delivered our second daughter.
I started pushing and it was so much harder than I remember it being - then I remember it's because she isn't alive, she isn't "helping". I looked at my doctor once while pushing - he was crying. I didn't look at anyone else after that and kept my eyes closed and listened to my breathing.
Isabel "Izzie" Grace was born at 2:56pm. She was perfect and so beautiful. I kept waiting for her cry, waiting for a miracle. I denied to myself that this was possible, that this was real life. She had to be alive.
I looked around the room at everyone and everyone except me was crying. I didn't know what to do. I was numb.
After I was cleaned up and checked for tears (there was none) Doc came and explained that there was a narrowed part of the umbilical cord, a spot he never would have noticed unless looking for it like he was in this situation. It's possible that this could be our answer as to why we lost her. He also explained that based on her coloring and skin breaking down that she most likely passed away sometime Monday - the last time I felt her move. How didn't I know?! Why didn't I go in when I felt something was wrong? Could I have saved her?
All these questions I allowed myself to ask once and haven't asked since. I will never know the answer. The only one I do have answer to is why didn't I go in when I first felt something was wrong - Izzie was a lazy baby in utero. She didn't move a ton and never passed kick counts. She still had a routine and as long as I felt a few throughout the day, I was happy.
We asked everyone to leave the room so we could have some time with Izzie. The nurse brought her to us, neither Jake or I could hold her. When we looked at her all we could see was Rory. They could have been twins. I held her hand and rubbed her face, she was so cold. How could she be so cold, she was just inside my body? At that moment I felt I failed as a mother. Jake must have seen something in my face, he came over and kissed me and told me I'm an amazing mother and he wouldn't want anyone else to be the mother to his children. I love him.
We let everyone come in that wanted to see her. Some wanted to hold her, others just cried over her. I was still as protective of her, if not more, and remember looking over at her constantly just to make sure she was alright.
I called a friend and asked her to come pray over all of us, especially Izzie as we let her go. I have faith and believe in God, but this was like nothing I have ever experienced. I felt His presence and that of everyone else too.
The next step to this journey, was leaving the hospital. Through all of this I asked myself "how am I suppose to..." this was a question I didn't even fathom how hard it would be to answer. My perfect, beautiful daughter laid in front of me all swaddled and ready to go home and keep her mommy and daddy awake all night and drive her big sister crazy. Instead, we have to leave her here where she will stay the night and go to another hospital in the morning.
I think this is when everything came crashing down on me. I didn't know how to physically walk of this room and leave. Jake asked the nurse to take her for us. I think a part of me left with her then to stay and protect her.
We got home that night and held Rory so tight.
I'll leave it there....
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