I find myself making note of “anniversaries” every week. Things like “I should be X number of weeks pregnant now,” or “it’s been X weeks since we were told there was no heartbeat,” or X weeks since I delivered Astrid,” or “we buried our daughter X weeks ago.”
Today marks 1 month since we went to the hospital to start my induction and subsequent delivery of Astrid. I still catch myself wondering if this has all been a dream. I scroll through the photos we took in the hospital (and while wishing we had taken more) am grateful for the ones we did take.
I miss our baby girl so much.
Her older sister, Shecklet #4, asked to see pictures of her little sister last night. (I had been waiting for her to ask rather than ask if she wanted to see them.) She asked a few questions about her skin color, but other than that, just commented about how small her fingers were and how cute her feet were. She would have been so good at loving her little sister here on earth.
“You didn’t lose you baby, she is more with you than ever before. Now, she in turn is protecting you and interceding for you who have so generously given her life.
Emotions will come and go for a while. That is the true sign of love. Be kind to yourself.”
Two weeks ago I delivered Astrid. If you were to see me today, it’s highly unlikely you could tell I was still pregnant 14 days ago. The realization that there is no longer an outward sign of my pregnancy makes me so sad. Jake feels that sadness, too.
Yesterday was a good day. I told a friend of mine who was checking in on me that I felt guilty admitting that it was a good day. I laughed, smiled, and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Such a stark contrast to last week when I was back in the hospital overnight or two weeks ago as I spent the last night at home with Astrid with me. My friend reassured me that it was ok. That it’s good to have good days. Not that I needed her permission, but it was good to hear her say that to me.
As if there needed to be more emotional stress added to life right now, I went to the ER after Astrid’s funeral due to running a temp and feeling pretty crummy overall. (It started on 5/20, led to phone calls with the nurseline in the evening and morning of 5/21 as well as a televisit on 5/21 prior to Astrid’s funeral.) While I was in the ER, my BP went high (for me) and I was running a temp of 104 degrees. The combination of those two issues made me very nervous. (Once again, Jake was not able to be with me. I drove myself to the ER and texted him updates along the way.)
After having an ultrasound, it was determined that I needed a D&C to remove retained tissue (placenta) and be treated for an infection. Once I had the surgery and they started me on IV antibiotics, I began to feel much better. They admitted me overnight due to the high temp and told me if I remained fever free for 24 hours, I could go home.
I didn’t really sleep in the hospital, but did rest relatively well and was able to eat. By the time Friday evening came, I was feeling much better and was ready to head home. Jake brought the kids to pick me up around 6pm. It was so good to see all of them. It’s been a rough 24 hours.
While I was resting and receiving antibiotics and fluids on 5/22, I had two friends text me the Gospel reading and reflection for the day from the Word Among Us – John 16:20-23.
I love that my friends thought of me when they read this reflection. I needed to hear these words today.
Today we buried our daughter. Her place of rest is near the babies of several of our good friends. When Jake suggested we choose St. John’s Cemetery for Astrid, I immediately said yes. I can’t think of anywhere else I would want her to be than near the other little saints we know.
Her funeral mass was beautiful. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, the six of us were only allowed to be present for her funeral. (We had hoped the mass could be recorded so we could share it with a few people, but it turns out the recording didn’t work. I was extremely disappointed.) While it was sad to not have others who are also grieving our little girl’s death there to celebrate her short life with us, it was ok. I didn’t feel anxious about needing to comfort others or relive the events of the last week over and over.
Astrid’s brothers and biggest sister read the readings and intentions during mass. They did a great job honoring their little sister. Fr. Jim gave a lovely homily and even incorporated the heart sign that I put over my belly on Mother’s Day.
Jacob carried her casket (made by Trappist Monks in Iowa) out of the church and then from the hearse to the grave site. We are so grateful for the beautiful ministry of the monks who made her casket (and our parish for having it available for us.)
At the grave site, Fr. Jim prayed with us (and a few friends and family who were able to join us.) I’m grateful for the love and support we felt in the cemetery. Five of the six of us took a turn shoveling dirt on top of the vault and then each of Astrid’s siblings placed a pink rose on top. I really hope that being part of her burial is an act of love that they will always be able to look back on.
I was reflecting today that a week ago was the beginning of the end of my pregnancy with Astrid. No heartbeat. Information about induction. Fast forward a week and it’s the eve of Astrid’s funeral. Writing that is so hard. Grief has hit me in more waves today. I get choked up at the littlest thoughts of her and how, as my friend Sara put it, we “had to fit a lifetime of loving into just a few short moments.”
What follows was written during our hospital stay. I fluctuate between past and present tense and have chosen to leave it as such since it gives a more realistic feel for how I was feeling when I was writing.
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My in-laws arrived just before 7AM to stay with the kids while Jake and I went to the hospital for my induction. We checked in to Mercy Hospital around 7:30AM. Nurse Ka got us situated, I changed into my gown and blue grippy socks and then answered a bunch of admitting questions. I met Dr. Ayika, who explained the induction process (which was new to me) and said that a “normal” delivery should still be ok even though the baby is breech.
We ordered breakfast, and after eating, my induction was started.
9:50AM. I expect a long, slow ramp-up over the next 24 hours. I plan to request an epidural once the pain is gets too intense. This whole experience is emotionally painful enough. I’m glad there is the option to ease some of the physical pain. Jake is resting, which is much deserved. He has been “on call” for me and the kids for almost this entire pregnancy in a more intense way. I am glad he has an opportunity to sleep if he needs to or be alone with his thoughts. His presence beside me is comforting. I know he wants to “do” something, but him being here is doing just that for me.
Our friends, Melissa & Tom, brought us some lighter conversation via our texting group thread. They are two of several people who have continued to check in with us, pray for us, and offer support as we’ve needed it. They plan to be at the cemetery on Thursday along with Michelle and Rita (who may just “happen to be at the cemetery” visiting her dad <3. )
We had lunch around 2PM (Jake said he likes the hospital food) and then closer to 3:30, Ka came in to introduce my next nurse, Amber. She’ll be on until 11:30PM. I was given another dose (increased) of the induction med and they monitored me for a while to make sure contractions were progressing.
*side note – Amber’s BIL had an AN. It always surprises me when I meet someone who knows about the tumor I had.
4:45PM. We’re resting again and I plan to order dinner around 5PM. Contractions are still manageable , so I don’t feel the need to request the epidural yet. Going to pray a Chaplet of Divine Mercy in thanksgiving for the overall peace that I feel right now in this moment. I know emotions will change – likely rollercoaster, but right now I’m so grateful for peace.
Dinner came, we ate and then rested again. While I was laying down, I started feeling nauseous. I ended up getting sick – felt somewhat better afterwards. Amber, my nurse, gave me a med to help with the other stomach issue I was having and got my IV started in advance of my epidural. (Prior to that, Dr. Ayika checked and I was dilated to 1cm.)
Between when I was checked and when the anesthesiologist started to prep for my epidural, my contractions really started to ramp up – in intensity and frequency. Jake sat in front of me as I bent forward so the epidural could be placed. I breathed through numerous contractions (while wearing a cloth mask!) Once it was finally in, it took a long time for it to take effect. (Longer than any epidurals I’ve had in the past.) The contractions were strong and painful and numerous – nothing like I remember feeling with my other labors. I laid on my side, breathing and begging for the meds to kick in. They gave me a dose of fentanyl to try to ease things a little – they did, slightly, in addition to making me tired and spacey. During one of the strong contractions, my water broke. Thanks to the meds, I may or may not have said, “Oh shit, my water just broke!” and then apologized for swearing. It was a relief at first, but then the contractions intensified again. I told Amber that I felt ready to push, so she checked me and said she was going to call Dr. Ayika so I could deliver.
Dr. Ayika and Amber got me situated and within 6 or so pushes I delivered (breech) our sweet little girl at 9:21PM. We named her Astrid Philomena Sheck. She was 12 incues long and 3lbs. 7oz. They laid her on my chest as Dr. Ayika delivered the placenta. (Every time I lost fluid, I thought that had to be it…but then there was more. I am amazed at how much I had retained. It explains why I was measuring four weeks ahead at my last appointment with my midwife a little over a week ago.)
After Jake and I held Astrid, Amber and Laurenda (my overnight nurse) took her to take some pictures in another room. We obviously have the ones from immediately after birth, but the nurses took such sweet care to put her in a party dress, hat, diaper, and blanket. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully in the bassinette. They gave us an SD card with the photos that we will look at at home.
We spent the next several hours with Astrid’s body – blessed her, said bedtime prayers with her, and told her how we look forward to seeing her again one day in heaven. That hope – eternal life in heaven – is what we can cling to.
We said goodbye to her body at 2:08AM.
Sunday morning 5/17. Both of us slept hard. We’re exhausted – emotionally and physically. The texts and emails we have received since announcing Astrid’s delivery have been full of love, prayers, and support.
I cannot believe what we have just experienced. It feels like a dream. And yet, when I look down at my belly, I know it wasn’t. I am so sad. I miss my little girl.
I stopped at Caribou after having my COVID test this morning. The person in front of my paid for my drink. I had to pull into a parking space because I was so overwhelmed by emotion and shocked that of all the days that this could happen, today is when it did. (It’s never happened to me before.) I wish I could have told the person who treated me how much their kind gesture meant to me.
The OB I saw yesterday contacted the hospital medical director and strongly suggested there be an exception for me should my COVID test result not be back by Saturday morning. He called this afternoon and assured me that I would be admitted regardless of whether the result has been returned. I’m grateful for his persistence. I now have one less thing to be anxious about.
Jake and I have received many emails and text messages offering prayers, love and support since we shared the news of our baby’s heartbeat stopping. One email I received in particular today made me stop and pause. My friend concluded her note saying, “Mary Mother of God, Our Mother, send Roni a rose from heaven to comfort her darling baby home.” Shortly after reading her email, our doorbell rang and a flower arrangement was dropped off on our porch. In the arrangement were three orange roses. The friends who sent the arrangement had no idea the other friend emailed me and said what she did.
UPDATE: 5/15/20 – my friend who sent the arrangement that included roses texted me the following: “I called the florist yesterday and told them the ‘rest of the story’ of the flowers showing up after you read a friend’s email and the rose and all that. I spoke to the delivery driver. She was in awe, because she said she sat in the parking lot for 20 minutes trying to get her GPS to work on her phone and your address wouldn’t show up… and she was running late. But she wasn’t late, it was perfect timing for you to get the email and THEN the flowers. 🌹”
I met with an OB this afternoon to discuss the next steps I will need to take following the news of our baby’s death. He was very kind. I’m scheduled to be induced on Saturday, 5/16. I’ve never been induced before…
I was told I needed to have a COVID test prior to being admitted, so I scheduled that for tomorrow morning. Even with a “rush” put on my test, it isn’t a sure thing the result will be back before I’m supposed to report to the hospital. I’m really hoping that it’s back in time. I have enough anxiety right now. I don’t need to add to it by having to wait longer than Saturday to start the induction.
Two words no expectant mom wants to hear. No heartbeat. The visual on the screen confirms it is true.
We are heartbroken.
Appointment with OB tomorrow to determine next steps. The doctor I saw at my ultrasound today wants me to deliver within this week due to the increased risk to my health if I continue to carry the baby. I’m measuring 5 weeks ahead of where I should be. There is so. much. fluid.
Telling the kids was one of the hardest (if not the hardest) thing I have had to do. This baby was so wanted, so loved.
I cannot believe this is our reality and don’t understand why.
