Those are two words I never dreamed I would be writing about my child. How do you go from telling your husband you’re pregnant to selecting bible readings and music for your baby’s funeral mass?
This isn’t what we want to be planning. We want to be picking out a car seat, choosing a crib, stocking up on diapers.
As I told one of my aunts tonight, emotionally, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. I feel like right now we are just getting things done/prepared for Thursday’s funeral mass & burial and then after that, the larger waves of grief will hit. Then there are the milestones that we won’t actually be celebrating with her on earth – her due date, first holidays, first birthday, etc.
And yet, I know that she is in heaven and she isn’t hurting. She is with Great Grandma Fran, Great Auntie Helen, Great Grandma Veronica, Sammy, her Papa Dale, our goddaughters Gianna and Faith, and so many other loved ones. The kids know their sister is a little saint, we can ask her to pray for us, and we have the hope of seeing her again one day. I’m so grateful for our faith.
I hope I can look back on the readings we chose for her funeral mass and find comfort when I’m struggling. She is a child of God. She belongs to Him. We were given a short time with her, but as it says in Philippians 3:20,21 “..our citizenship is in heaven.” She is where we all should long to be one day.
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.
It’s Jake’s birthday today. The second family birthday we’re celebrating in quarantine-mode. He requested take-out from Ole Piper Inn and an ice cream cake. His sister, Larissa, was also able to join us. (The cake was part of my Walmart pick-up order and was slightly less than perfect, but it couldn’t beat his “Barthday” cake from several years ago.)
For presents, he told me the best one would be getting a text from me after my weekly midwife appointment telling him I heard the baby’s heartbeat. Thankfully the baby was more than happy to give him that gift.
We booked an appointment at Before Birth 4D Imaging to see if we could get a few updated (better) pictures of baby and determine gender. Once again, Baby Sheck made us fully aware of who is in charge. Not only were we not able to find out boy vs. girl, but baby’s face didn’t have enough amniotic fluid in front of it to get a decent 4D image. (The ultrasound tech told us that baby’s face was facing outward, up near the left side of my rib cage, and right up against the uterine wall. Not exactly the most comfortable place for mama, but baby seems content there.)
We continue to feel like this child is a girl and have been discussing names along those lines. If it turns out we’re incorrect, we’re going to have to scramble to come up with a fitting boy name.
It was nice to go to an appointment where Jake could accompany me. I’m especially glad he was able to see the baby move, swallow, stick out it’s tongue (it’s totally a Sheck kid) and see the little heart beating away.
As a gift, the owner/ultrasound tech recorded our baby’s heartbeat and placed the recording device inside a teddy bear. We can hear 16 seconds of Shecklet #5’s little heart beating strong and consistent. This baby is a fighter!
I was going to write one long post and include everything at once, but what I was writing was turning into a very long post, so I figured it was better to write as things develop.
We had our 20 week ultrasound yesterday. Due to COVID-19, Jake wasn’t able to accompany me to the appointment. I understand the need for caution, but it sucked.
The first glimpse of our little one was all I needed to know that things were not going in a positive direction. The internet is full of wonderful and horrible things all at the same time, and I’ve done enough research to know that what I was looking at on the screen in front of me was a lot of fluid built up where I knew it shouldn’t be. The cystic hygroma behind baby’s head/neck was large (I was shocked when I saw the actual size in my visit notes online) and there was substantial fluid buildup in his/her belly. From there on out, I let the tears flow as the ultrasound technician looked at the rest of the baby – lungs, leg & arm bones, kidneys, stomach, head/brain, and a detailed look at the heart (fetal echo.) She attempted to determine the gender of our baby, but our little one didn’t want to cooperate. Of the two things I was hoping we’d see – lower fluid amounts and gender – I saw neither. I’m pretty disappointed.
Once the ultrasound was complete, the technician went to speak with the MFM doctor and pediatric cardiologist to share what she found. After I don’t know how many minutes sitting alone in the room, the MFM doctor came in and introduced himself. I called Jake and put him on speakerphone so he could hear what the doctor had to say.
I already knew the news was not going to be positive, and the doctor confirmed that (in the kindest way he could.) While he didn’t eliminate all hope for our baby, after reading the visit notes today, it seems quite likely that we won’t get to meet our little one this side of heaven. It breaks my heart to read the words “likely fetal demise” in my visit notes. It hurts so much to know there is nothing that we can do to change the outcome of our child’s life. It was so sad to share this update with our kids when we got home yesterday afternoon.
Our baby has “severe hydrops fetalis” (non-immune type.) The fluid building up in our sweet baby’s abdomen is putting stress on other organs such as the heart, lungs, and kidneys. Because we have chosen to not have an amniocentesis, we are choosing to not determine whether the cause of all that’s going on is a genetic abnormality. However, all signs are pointing in that direction since the heart looks “ok” considering everything else that is going on. Going forward, I’m supposed to continue with weekly heartbeat checks for baby and blood pressure checks for me. There’s something called “mirror syndrome” that can occur in pregnant moms whose babies have hydrops.
I told a couple of friends (via text) yesterday that I don’t even know what to pray for right now, so I just keep repeating, “Jesus, I trust in you.” Because really, that’s the only thing that I can bring myself to do. That, and to offer up my suffering for my friend and her family whose son was tragically killed on 3/20/2020.
My head knows God has a plan, a reason, for all of this. But my heart is really struggling to understand.
We weren’t able to get a good updated profile picture of Shecklet #5, but we did get some other photos of our little fighter!
