Welcome

Welcome to Sharing My Angel. My name is Colleen Howard, President of Share of Northeast Louisiana Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. On our main page, you will find links to additional blogs designed for parents in this group so they may share their stories and life as a bereaved parent with you. Each story is of loss, heartache and hope during the long journey to recover after the death of a baby. Sharing My Angel is my personal addition to our main blog. Here I will share my precious Melissa with you. In doing so, I hope to touch the lives of those who have also suffered the death of their beloved baby.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

The Beginning

In the fall of 1989 I learned I was pregnant with my fourth child. After three perfectly normal pregnancies and three healthy children, there was no reason for me to think anything could go wrong this time. After all, you get pregnant and nine months later you bring a baby home.

As the weeks and months went by, I happily prepared for what would be my last baby. At the time my son was eleven and my daughters were nine and five years old. My girls were excited but my son was not always so thrilled. He told me several times that “HE was too old for me to be having another baby!” Kids!

The ultrasound did not reveal to us whether we were having a boy or a girl but I felt it was a boy. I spent many hours preparing a nursery and shopping for the cute outfits. I really wanted to enjoy every moment of the pregnancy and preparation even more than before because this was my last baby. I could hardly wait for him or her to be born.

Like most expectant mothers, I had my moments of worry. I prayed for this baby often. Yet during that innocent time, I knew of only three outcomes….a perfect, healthy baby, a baby with problems that a doctor could “fix”, or a baby with problems you learned to live with. Nothing else ever entered my mind. I didn’t even know that babies died.

One week before my due date I was admitted into the hospital for several days because I had developed toxemia. Again, due to never having health issues or knowing anyone who had, I wasn’t afraid or overly concerned. After all, doctors could fix this. I was sent home and told to return the following week for induction. I made all the last minute plans, double checked my bags and tried to be patient. Soon my sweet baby would be in my arms. I was so happy and excited.

On the morning of April 9, 1990 my husband and I were at the hospital at 6am. I was quickly prepped and connected to the IV with pitocin. My in-laws and children joined us shortly. The big day was here! I recall that within a short time I wasn’t feeling well. My nurses seem to be checking on me more often but nothing seemed urgent or upsetting to me or my family. As the hours passed, I felt worse. I started running fever and the nurse’s concerns grew. When my doctor came in, he showed no concern whatsoever and said he would be back in an hour. By afternoon I could tell that my nurses were a little panicked and were watching the monitors and me even closer. I was by then so sick I could not really comprehend what was happening. When my baby’s heart rate rose to 210, the nurses called my doctor to come quickly. I remember being told that I was going to be taken to surgery for a cesarean in an hour. I had never had surgery before and had always been scared to death of ever having to. Yet I was so sick by that time I felt no fear at all. I did not have the capacity to even ask any questions or be in fear of what was wrong with my baby.

At 6pm I was rolled into surgery. I was shaking violently and throwing up as they prepped me. I remember how kind and caring the anesthetist was to me. He told me that as soon as my baby was born, he would put me to sleep because I was shaking so badly. A moment later I heard an aggravated, angry voice behind me say “Let’s get this show on the road!”. I was strapped down to the table yet I turned my head backwards to see who in the world was coming in there with that kind of attitude. It was the pediatrician. The doctor that came so highly recommended to me that I had chosen to take care of my baby after birth. I later learned that he had been called away from a dinner party and he was not happy about it at all. I was mortified yet helpless.

At 6:11 pm my baby was delivered. I heard a weak kitten like cry and the words “It’s a Girl”. Thankfully there were a few seconds after hearing those words before I was sedated that I thought to myself how happy I was that she was finally here and I wasn’t at all disappointed about having another girl. I just knew it was going to be a boy and had nothing but boy clothes but I was just thrilled she was here. Sadly that one weak cry was all I ever heard. I didn’t get to see her or hold her. I was sedated and unaware of what was unfolding just a few feet away. I later learned that Melissa was born blue, limp and unresponsive. She stopped breathing in the operating room and had to be resuscitated. Yet the pediatrician took her to the regular nursery as though she were a healthy baby and left the hospital minutes after her birth to return to his dinner party.

About four hours later I was awakened in the recovery room by nurses from another hospital’s NICU. They told me that due to being born by a cesarean that my baby’s lungs were filled with a little fluid causing her to have trouble breathing. The assured me she would be fine. They wheeled in an incubator and for the first time, I saw her. I saw Melissa.

What I saw though was not the bundled up, pink, healthy baby like my others had been. Melissa was not clothed, not even a diaper. There were wires everywhere and an IV in her head. She was not moving or crying. With the assurance from the nurses that she would be fine, I just knew she would be. She was a big baby weighing 9 lbs. 9 oz. She just had to be fine. I didn’t get to hold her, touch her or kiss her. But we met. We shared a moment. And then she was gone.

I was so heavily sedated that the next time I woke up I was in a private room. I was alone. I had no idea what was going on. I called the nurse’s station and they were able to get a call into the NICU at the other hospital. I talked to my husband and I could tell he was upset and scared but he tried to keep me calm. By then it was about midnight. I called one of my sisters who lived nearby and she came to be with me. The entire family had been told that Melissa would be okay and had gone home earlier. I called everyone to come back immediately. Once my sister got there we called the NICU again. My husband told me that Melissa was about to be flown from Shreveport to a New Orleans hospital and connected to ECMO. This is a devise that removes blood from your body, adds oxygen and recirculates it. Now I was scared to death and falling apart. My fear of flying also had me panicking knowing that my newborn baby was about to board a plane and be hundreds of miles from me. I lay there helpless, scared and praying harder than I ever had in my life.

Within a few minutes a nurse came into my room wanting to give me an injection to put me back to sleep. I refused it. I felt helpless enough and I certainly was not going to sleep while my child was fighting for her life. Only later did I learn that my sister had requested I be sedated. I think she knew things were looking really bad and she was trying to protect me. Still, I had to be awake and aware. As I lay there praying that the plane would land safely and my baby would be well soon, the door to my hospital room opened. The room was dark except for the small light over my bed. Still I could see my husband and a stranger. I wondered why my husband was there instead of with Melissa and I wondered who this strange man was standing there. The only thing I concentrated on was the look on this stranger’s face and no words had to be spoken. I knew. I knew my precious baby was dead. She died before ever boarding the plane to be transferred.

This stranger turned out to be the NICU doctor who tried frantically to save Melissa's life. After his condolences, he asked if there was anything else he could do for us. My husband asked him if Melissa could be brought to me and he made the arrangements. Within a few minutes two nurses walked in and handed Melissa to me. Finally I was able to hold her........

Holding an Angel



THERE IS NO PAIN LIKE IT! NO WAY TO DESCRIBE THE GUT WRENCHING, HEARTBREAKING GRIEF OF HOLDING YOUR LIFELESS CHILD.

April 9, 1990

Melissa was gently handed to me. She was handled by these caring nurses as though she was alive. I saw the saddness in their eyes. This was not easy for them.

I cradled her close to me, kissed her beautiful face. I laid her down on the bed and took the cap off of her head. She had so much black hair. I looked at her little body, her fingers, her toes. I begged her to open her eyes, to cry, to breathe. How could this be happening? Just a few hours ago she was kicking inside of me. My heart was breaking into a million pieces. I did not want to let her go.

Why did this happen to MY baby? What had I done in life so bad that I deserved this? My mind was swirling and I felt like I was going to pass out. I just wanted to grab Melissa and run far away. Time was going by so fast and it seemed like only seconds passed and the nurses told us they needed to take her. My world had collapsed, my sweet baby Melissa was dead and there was nothing I could do to change it. I was her mother, her protector and loved her more than anyone else in the world, but I could not save her life.



Friday, November 7, 2008

Goodbye Sweet Baby

April 16, 1990

The days following Melissa's birth and death were filled with unimaginable shock and heartache. My aunt and husband had to make all of the funeral arrangements because I was unable to leave the hospital. The funeral was planned for a week later so that I could attend. I remember walking into the funeral home for the visitation and thinking that cannot be my child. I was not ready to accept it at all.

I ached for my other children. Lance, Jessica and Maggie were devastated. They were so young and it broke my heart to see them going through this. I will never forget the day that Lance came to me crying his little heart out saying that it was his fault that Melissa died because he was mad about me having another baby. I hugged him and told him that was not true at all. Jessica was the one who tried so hard to comfort and take care of me. Maggie wanted to be with her sister. It was a hard time in all our lives. The above picture is the only one I have of my four children together. That breaks my heart.

After the visitation, we went to our old family church where many of my ancestors are buried for a graveside service. Only close family and friends were there. I was not able to face a lot of people. My father tried so hard to comfort me. People said all the things they thought would help. Nothing helped. I was a shell of a person standing there at my baby's grave. I felt my own life was over and I had no hope of getting through this. I was medicated and numb. I didn't cry a single tear standing there because there were none left at that moment. My child was being put in the ground and I may as well be put in there with her.

Melissa was being taken away from me. I would never see her here on earth again. I would never feed her, play with her or hold her. She was leaving me but there were no goodbyes that day. Saying goodbye to Melissa would take years.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

What Went Wrong

Several weeks after Melissa died I was told my by OB that her cause of death was Group B Strep. I had never heard of it nor was he forthcoming with any information. The only comment he made to me that day was that nothing could have been done to save her life. Then he handed me a copy of her autopsy report and walked out of the room.

I went to the library and found books with information about Group B Strep. What I learned only added to my grief. Not only was there a test for GBS but it was treatable. I was devastated! How could I have not known about this and why didn't my doctor test me? Also, why did he lie to me that nothing could have been done. I was furious!

What I learned was that GBS is a common bacteria found in many women. If a pregnant woman is a carrier, it poses a serious threat to her baby during delivery if left untreated. When I was pregnant with Melissa, the test to check for GBS was available but it was not mandatory for doctors to inform their patients or test them. Thousands of babies were dying in this country every year from a treatable disease! If a woman tests positive and antibiotics are given through her IV during labor, the baby is protected. It was that simple. I also learned that if a woman was not tested, or tested negative, but started running fever during labor, antibiotics were to be immediately started and the test be given then. Once the baby was born, it too should be tested and given antibiotics.

I made many, many trips to my doctor's office because of problems with my incision. A few days after the staples were removed, the incision completely came apart due to Group B Strep infection. I had to go to my doctor's office everyday, seven days a week, for six weeks. It was the strep that caused me to become so sick during labor and delivery and it was still causing me problems weeks afterward. Massive amounts of antibiotics and extreme measures treating the incision finally cleared me of the infection and allowed my incision to heal.

I told my doctor what I had learned about GBS and asked him why he didn't test me, why I wasn't given antibiotics and why the symptoms and warning signs both Melissa and I had were ignored. His exact words were that maternity care was already so expensive and the test would be an additional $30 so he just didn't mention it to his patients. YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT! Basically a $30 test and $10 worth of penicillin in my IV during labor and delivery would have saved my baby's life.

Thankfully in that same year a group of parents from Chapel Hill, NC who had also had babies die from GBS founded the Group B Strep Association and because of their determination it became mandatory that all pregnant women be tested. Countless babies are alive because of those wonderful people. I only wish it had been soon enough for Melissa.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

The Journey of Grief and Healing

To any newly bereaved parent reading this, I want to be honest with you. There is no quick fix or easy path down this unexpected road that has been laid out in front of you. Each of us may handle the grief of losing our baby in a different way but the ultimate goal is to find peace, acceptance and a "new normal" in our lives.

For a very long time I asked "why". Why me, why my baby? For a very long time I was angry at God, angry at the world. I went through all the what ifs... what if I had done this differently, what if I had chosen different doctors, if, if, if............... That will drive you insane but I think we all do it.

When Melissa died, I knew no one who had lost a baby. I felt so alone and I knew I had to have help in dealing with my grief. I headed to the library in search of books dealing with the death of a baby. I found several and they certainly helped me but my saving grace was found in the resource section at the back of one book. There I found Share Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support. I immediately contacted the national office and was told there was a chapter in Shreveport.

I started attending the meetings and also receiving newsletters from the National Share Office. The parents I met at the meetings and through Share penpals, literally saved my sanity. With these parents I was able to truly open up and be honest about my pain. I could tell them about the nightmares, the desire to stay in bed with Melissa's pictures surrounding me, the bitterness towards pregnant women, etc. and NEVER be judged. Never be told I was crazy or just get over it! I learned through the other parents that everything I was going through was normal and most importantly I found hope.

Still, even with the best support in the world of other bereaved parents there were really bad days ahead of me. The first year after Melissa died was certainly the worst. All those first holidays were miserable. I remember during December that year I went shopping with my sister Cindy and walked up to a display of all the Baby's First Christmas" ornaments. Right there in the store I broke down sobbing. I had done everything possible to avoid the diaper and baby food isles in grocery stores but the reminders of what I had lost seemed to pop out of nowhere sometimes and I could not control my emotions.

I so vividly remember facing Melissa's first birthday. I woke up early that morning and accounted for each hour what was happening the year before. When the moments nearing her time of death were approaching I prayed....no, I begged God to undo what had happened and give her back to me. I felt if I prayed and begged hard enough I could change the outcome and have my baby with me. That certainly was a low point for me and made me really question my sanity. Grief is not easy on our minds or our hearts.

The journey continues............

Monday, November 3, 2008

Choices

If you have ever read a book about grief, it is said that we go through "stages" after we suffer a loss. I believe that to some degree but if you try to follow those stages and get to the last one and think "Okay, it's time to be over it", you are going to be in for a shock.

When Melissa died, no one could convince me that the intense pain I was feeling would ever go away. I regretfully recall a woman at a Share meeting who tried to tell me that in time I would feel better and find joy in life again. I thought to myself as she was talking to me "WELL- you must not love your baby like I love mine!" Thankfully I didn't say that out loud! I was also told by many that time heals all wounds. Time does help ease the pain yet I believe that what you choose to do during that time is what really makes a difference. When I realized that I had two choices is when I began to heal. I could choose to let this make me or break me. I could choose to be destroyed or I could choose to heal and use this experience positively. I could become bitter or better.

You may be asking how on earth can anything positive come from the death of your baby. I believe positive can come from even the worst tragedy IF you allow it to. If I had the choice to go back and change the fact that Melissa died, I would. If I had the choice to never have had her because she died, I would not.

The first time I knew there was a positive reason for Melissa's life and death will forever be with me. About a year after Melissa died I got a phone call early one morning from a friend of mine. She was distraught telling me about a car accident that happened the night before right in front of her home. A young woman who was nine months pregnant and her unborn baby died after she lost control of her car practically in my friend's front yard. It broke my heart and I cried for several days. I did not know this woman who died yet the loss of her young life and the life of her baby broke my heart. I did not know at the time how God was going to intervene in this tragedy.

Weeks later I was at my friend's house and we were just sitting around talking when there was a knock at the door. My friend opened it to find a stranger standing there. The woman introduced herself and said that it was her daughter and unborn grandson that had been killed there. She told us she had driven by several times trying to find the courage to stop. She explained that she needed to come there and see where her daughter had died and ask questions. As my friend talked to her, I felt an immediate connection and the need to help in anyway I could. I asked the woman for her phone number and promised to call her so we could talk.

I called her that afternoon and we talked for a very long time. I told her about Melissa and we shared our pain and grief. She told me that her daughter was her only child and was carrying her first grandchild. She was so grief stricken and my heart broke for her. She asked me if there was any type of support group for her to attend so I started checking around. When I told her I had found one, she asked if I would go with her and her husband at least the first time because she was so nervous. I told her I would be more than happy to go with them and I did. I spent a lot of time with this woman yet I didn't know until months later what a difference I had made. I ran into her while shopping and she hugged me so tightly and told me something that I will never forget. She said that on the day she came to my friend's house where her daughter and grandson had died, she had wanted to actually stand on the spot where they had died and ask my friend if her daughter had said anything, had she suffered.... She then told me that her intention that day was to go there and immediately go home and commit suicide because she could not stand the pain... but instead she met me and that I had made such an impact on her life that she knew she could live through this grief. God knew exactly what He was doing when He brought us together!

Sunday, November 2, 2008

My personal journey to heal, accept and move forward after Melissa died was not easy. As I mentioned in my previous post, we are told there are stages of grief. I agree that there are stages but I know that it is a one step foward and two steps back kind of deal. We go through different emotions at different times, we go through the same ones more than once. And just when we think we are doing better, something triggers the raw emotions we thought we had dealt with and we are right back where we started. That is normal.

I remember feeling that if I let myself move forward, if I tried to enjoy my life again, I was betraying Melissa. I felt guilty if I laughed. I felt guilty if I didn't think about her all day everyday. The thought of moving on also made me feel I was further away from her. That may sound crazy but grief can make everything seem crazy.

Finally after three long years, I realized that no matter what I did, no matter how much I begged or cried, Melissa was gone and she was never coming back to me. I had three other children who needed their mother to be a mother. I knew I had to make some choices.

I honestly do believe that it is a choice to heal. I don't say that lightly. I really mean it. But I also know that each parent has to get there on their own. Each of our stories are unique and each of us have our own ways of dealing with our loss. But for each of us, there is the need within ourselves to find acceptance and go on. How each of us get there is an indivdual as we are.

Probably the most significant moment was when I realized that my daughter would not want me to grieve myself to death. She would not want me to miss out on all life had in store for me and her brother and sisters. I wrote in an email to a newly bereaved mother just the other day when the subject of the approaching holidays came up that I would never want Melissa to look down and feel that her life/death had made our lives so miserable that we didn't enjoy all the special days and holidays. I would want her to look down here and see that her mother has done remarkable things because of her and that her family is so thankful that she came into our lives. Her short time with us led to so much good and I thank God everyday for allowing me to be her mother. I would not change that for anything in the world.

I don't want to mislead anyone and make it seem that once I made the decision to move forward that there weren't still painful days. Over 18 years later I still have days that are very hard on my heart where Melissa is concerned. Her birthday is the most difficult day of the year. That day more than any other I wonder what she would look like. Mother's Day is bittersweet. I am so thankful for my other children yet there is that missing one who can't give me a hug and say "Happy Mother's Day." Even a day out with my other daughters can sometimes bring a moment of saddness. I can't tell you how many times I have been driving with one of them in the front seat and one in the back and I look in the rear view mirror noticing the empty spot and think to myself "Melissa should be sitting there."

I have healed as much as a mother can who has suffered the death of her child. I have found peace and acceptance. I am not the same person I was before she died. I am more compassionate and understanding. I am more grateful for all the little things in my life. I don't just love my children but also appreciate them and never take them for granted. I am more spiritural.

For anyone who has read all of the posts so far on this blog, especially another bereaved mother, I want to tell you that writing it has been very painful at times. Actually writing it has not been as difficult as when I went back and read it myself. At one point I sat here and asked myself if this is really my life I am reading about. I wanted to be honest. I couldn't start with my feelings today but had to go back in time to 1990 and be real about my grief then. In opening my wound and telling my story, I hope to give others hope. It has been a long, difficult road for me but I survived it. You can too.