What happened.

Some people that I didn't get to know until after I lost Faith are curious to know what happened. It's one of those questions that you don't want to ask because you don't know if you're opening the flood gates. For anyone one that wants to know, read on. If not, that's ok too. About a year ago, I became tired of being known as the girl that lost her baby anyway.

Three years ago today I was going to bed and Jaime was leaving for an extra job. I sneezed and then grabbed my stomach because I felt a sharp pain. I waited a second and felt fine, so I rolled over and figured I pulled a muscle from sneezing so hard. Jaime kissed me goodnight & left for work.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to a damp feeling. I knew immediately what happened, but somewhere inside me, I wasn't ready to admit it. I called Jaime, who came home immediately and took me to the hospital. I prayed and prayed that I was one of those women who lost bladder conrol during pregnancy, but that was not to be the case. The Dr confirmed it was amniotic fluid (My amniotic sac had a hole in it) and admitted me immediately. I was told my body would most likely abort the baby by morning. I had an extremely slim chance of making it through the night, much less making it to the threshold where lifesaving measures would take place if I had the child early. If a baby is born before that threshold, it was very unlikely the baby would survive no matter what we did.
A drug I no longer remember the name of was fed to me by IV to prevent labor. All I remember about this drug was it made me extremely hot. My skin was hot, I peed hot, my tears were hot, EVERYTHING was hot! I was also put on a strong antibiotic to prevent infection. Lastly, they shot me with something that pretty much turned me into a zombie. No matter how hard I tried to talk, I sounded like I had finished a bottle of Wild Turkey all by myself.
Well, I surprised everyone by making it through the night, so they moved me into a room, which was the biggest on the floor. Later on, Jaime would bring a queen size air mattress so we could have sleepovers.
The next few weeks were painstakingly slow. Every minute felt like a day. After about a week, I was taken off the hot drug. My arm grew so sore from the IV, I could barely lift it, but that stayed in longer. They took blood every morning at first and then it changed to every other morning. I hope you are never in this position, but if you are, ask for the "butterfly needle". It's the smallest one that they use on pansies like me. Despite the small needle, I soon looked like a drug addict with track marks & bruises all over my arms.
Every day was the same. Wake up. Give blood. Take temp, swallow pills eat breakfast, throw-up breakfast, brush teeth before Jaime arrives, watch the Today show, and pray pray pray for no infection and no labor. I have never been so bored in my life. The hospital had portable laptops, but of course, my room didn't get wireless reception. Mondays were the best because that's when I got to see my baby. The Dr would do a sonogram to measure how much amniotic fluid I had. I was constantly leaking fluid while my body tried to replace it. The whole time, the Dr's kept saying it was possible that I had enough fluid in me for her to develop ok. Three times per day, I was hooked up to a monitor for 30 minutes so they could watch Faith's heartbeat and make sure I showed no signs of labor. Meanwhile Faith was growing enormous. She was on track to beat her sister who weighed in at 9lbs 10 oz.
There were a couple times when I was wheeled into Labor and Delivery because we thought Faith was trying to come out, but each time ended up just being a drill. The worst nights were spent in L&D because those beds were meant for ladies having babies, so they were extremely hard. My hips would ache all night. Besides those 2 nights, the only other excitement was when a mysterious itchy rash appeared all over my body. That was awful. We couldn't figure out what caused it, so we chalked it up to my body being under a lot of stress.
I lived for visits. Friends and family stopping by meant everything to me. Jaime didn't miss a single day the entire time I was there. He'd bring me dinner, movies, he hooked up a dvd player in my room, kept my ice-cream and snacks stocked and he brought Grace often, which meant so much. At first, I cried every time Jaime left, but after a while, I only cried when it was time for Grace to go.
Speaking of Grace, she was very apprehensive about seeing me, which was hard. She was afraid of the IV in my arm and afraid of hurting me. It took a while, but I eventually talked her into climbing into bed with me & all was good.
Two months of this routine went on. We celebrated Halloween, Thanksgiving and Jaime's birthday in that hospital. Then, I woke up one morning feeling a little achey. It was Saturday and Jaime had come to see me. I told him my back was hurting. We called a nurse, who put on the monitoring straps and everything looked normal. To make myself feel better, I decided to take a shower. All showers were taken sitting down on a bench. After the shower, I came out, laid down and told Jaime I was in serious pain, so we called the nurse again. This time, she brought reinforcements. So...here we go again to L&D. They administered the hot drug again, but it didn't do a thing. They took my temperature and it had risen a couple degrees, but who knew if that was the shower or something else. A couple minutes later they took my temp again and it had risen again. I had an infection and the baby had to come out. At first they said it would be a somewhat normal c-section and I would be able to stay awake, however, I went downhill fast and that would no longer be the case. My body started shaking pretty badly, my temp was rising and they had to get the baby out and the infection under control. I was taken to the OR and I remember wishing they would hurry up and knock me out because I was in so much pain. The anethstesiologist (sp?)came and had to hold my arm still to get the needle in. I laid there and felt so alone. Jaime wasn't allowed to join me. The last thing I remember was opening my hand. Right then, the anethstesiologist put his fingers in my hand. I held on to him and fell asleep.
It was late at night when I woke up. Jaime was with me. He said Faith looked so good, but that she was having to fight. I remember thinking, "OK, we expected this because she's 2 mos early. She'll take a while, but it will be ok"
Then we got a call from NICU. They said we better come because it wasn't looking good. Faith's lungs were hard and she would never be able to breath on her own. It appeared as if there was never enough amniotic fluid to develop her lungs. The Dr's were looking for our permission to turn the machines off.
We didn't want Faith to suffer any more, so after confirming again and again that she didn't have a chance, we gave in. They disconnected all the tubes and brought her to us in a private room where my mother joined us. Jaime and I would be able to hold our baby as she passed away. We hugged her, kissed her, smelled her and tried to engrain her face into our memory. She was beatiful. She had my face just like her sister does. She wouldn't have olive skin & brown eyes like her sister. She had my skin, light hair and light eyes. I thought, how cool to have two girls from the same parents look so different yet so much alike. The nurse came in every few minutes to check her heartbeat. It grew more and more faint until Faith finally let go. The nurse cried. I remember wondering, "Does she cry like this for all the families or is she crying because she's never seen a couple so wrapped up in grief as we were."
When we were ready, she took Faith. We didn't know it at the time, but the staff was preparing something for us that we would treasure for the rest of our lives. The saved a lock of her hair, they took pictures, hand casts and foot casts. They gave us things things in a little heart shaped box that also had her blankie, a stuffed lamb and a little gold ring. These things still sit on my dresser along with the outfit we were going to bring her home in.
I was taken to a room on a separate floor from the babies with a rose taped to the door. The rose was to let the nurses know what had happened to us. I didn't learn until later that there was more to that move than just protecting me from the additional pain of having to hear other babies crying. They were doing it to protect the babies as well. It seems that many kidnappings are by mothers that have lost children. Not only that but white mothers in Texas rank very highly in being potential kidnappers. That was three strikes against me right there. Although I never had the desire to take someone else's child, I can tell you that there is a disconnect between your body and your brain. Even though your brain knows you lost your child, your body is still longing for that child. It's very hard to explain. It's as if each part of your body has it's own brain and they don't believe the child is gone. Your arms long to hold the baby, your nose wants to smell the baby. Every part of you is looking for that child. It takes a long time before your brain convinces the rest of your body to give up.
The days after Faith died are all a blur. I remember hearing arguments. I remember waking up to see all my brother-in-laws in a semi-circle around by bed. I remember not being able to cry for a couple days because the pain killers make your emotions numb as well as your body. I was pretty out of it for the next few days. Jaime took care of all the funeral arrangements. I was so numb, I was useless.

This is my stay in a nutshell. Ok, well maybe not such a nutshell. In fact, I'm sure when Jaime reads this, he'll fill in some missing pieces, so maybe I'll add more later.

Time for bed.
Goodnight Faith. I miss you.