It was then that our
already horrible day was about to get worse news.
Since my epidural was now working, the
Doctors came back to scan Baby C and see where we were.
Throughout this pregnancy, Andy and I
have seen a lot of ultrasounds. We know what the heart looks like,
stomachs and bladders, amniotic fluid levels, etc. And while we weren't
technicians, we knew the moment they scanned Baby C that something wasn't right.
The Dr. stopped the ultrasound and told
us that someone, Baby C's heartbeat had stopped.
Are you kidding me?
His heartbeat couldn't have
stopped! He was our strong baby boy. He never had any issues, why
would he now? I just gave birth to our baby girls - they were born with
heartbeats - how could his have stopped? Why would it have stopped?
Then I realized something
terrible. After Leah died, we still had hope for Rachel. After
Rachel died, we still had so much hope for our baby boy. Now that our baby boy was dead, where would we find hope? How
was I suppose to give birth to our baby that had no hope for survival?
How was I suppose to give birth to our baby that was already dead?
I wept and cried out to Andy that this
wasn't fair and I couldn't do it. How could I do this? How was I
suppose to do this? I was exhausted - emotionally and physically - I
couldn't bear the thought of having
to do this, let alone knowing there was no turning back.
How Andy stayed strong, I'll never
know, but he held me, cried with me, and told me we could get through
this. He promised he would stay by my side, continue holding my hand and
we would go forward. He reminded me that our boy was already with his
sisters again.
Once again, Dr. Armstrong told me whenever
I felt a contraction to begin pushing. This time, with the epidural in
place, it was a little more difficult to feel the contractions. I
literally had to keep my hand on my stomach to feel it tighten or the nurse had
to keep watching the contraction monitor to tell me when to push.
Just like Rachel, our Baby Boy was breech and Dr. Armstrong had to break his water. After that, I don't think it was many contractions/pushes before he was out. Gabriel Andrew was born at 2:05pm.
What a different experience from Leah and Rachel. All three births were so different - just like all three babies are so different. At Gabriel's birth, there was the Neonatologists and pediatrician teams waiting. There was no "nurse" - or whatever she was - waiting with the standard baby blanket on her chest and holding her arms out, ready to take him after he was delivered. There was no one there for our Gabriel.
Before he was born, Dr. Armstrong asked if we wanted to hold him immediately after birth. I remember thinking "Why? Why would I want to hold him immediately - he's already dead - he has already left his body and joined his sisters?" So we asked for the nurse to clean and wrap him first.
After Gabriel was born, Dr. Armstrong asked Andy if he wanted to cut his cord. I sat there, silently weeping as Andy said no. I can't blame him.
I can only imagine how Dads feel during childbirth. Here is the woman you love (hopefully) who's body has grown and adapted to grow this child (or children) and now she has to physically get it out of her body and all you can do is stand there beside her. All you can do is hold her hand. All you can do is remind her that you love her and that she's so strong. Eventually, when the baby is born, cutting the cord, I feel, is traditionally saved for the Dad. That is HIS moment. Dad may not be able to actually participate in the labor of the birth, but he can cut the cord. He can free his child from the womb, so that it can be welcomed into loving arms.
But that's all for a live baby. And our Gabriel was not alive.
So, while I don't know what was going on in Andy's head during that moment, if I were him, I wouldn't have wanted to cut the cord.
I just have to give a side note for a moment: Andy had done so much - he held my hand, he stayed by my side, he encouraged me (he even told me that if he was doing something I didn't like or want, to just tell him and he would stop!), he told me he loved me, he told me I could do it, he told me I was strong, he told me it was going to be OK - he did everything he could, everything I needed him to do.
While the nurse was cleaning Gabriel, Dr. Armstrong told me that I would still need to deliver the placentas and she was hoping I could (and that we wouldn't have to go back into the OR) I, too, hoped it would be easy. Within mere minutes of Gabriel's birth, I felt the need to push again and asked Dr. Armstrong if I could. She said it was probably one of the placentas and if I wanted to push, I could. It didn't take much to get what was left of the pregnancy out of my body.
After looking it over, Dr. Armstrong, noticed that all three babies' cords were connected to this one piece. It seemed that somehow Gabriel's placenta had fused together with Rachel and Leah's. Assuming this was the case, after Leah and Rachel were born, their placenta probably began to detach from my uterus, and since they were fused together, it took Gabriel's too. With a detached placenta, Gabriel was no longer receiving what he needed to survive.
Of course, for a brief moment I wondered "Could we have changed this? What if we hadn't waited the hours we did after Rachel? What if we delivered him right away?" But as quickly as those thoughts entered my mind, I quickly pushed them back out again. There was no room for any "what ifs..." Because truthfully, I believe that our outcomes were going to be what they were going to be, and I had to believe that God spaced out the births for some reason. Even if only to give us time to grieve over Rachel and receive the epidural for help with the physical pain. He knew we needed a little time.
After all these thoughts, I knew it was time to hold our baby boy.
One might think after already holding and crying over two babies earlier that day that this might be easier - but nothing can prepare you for what it's like to hold your dead baby.
Gabriel, our sweet angel, was beautiful. Long fingers like his sisters and already had eyebrows like Andy. Andy said, and I agreed, that he looked the most like a "normal" newborn. Gabriel seemed to have the best coloring.
Just like we had done two times before, we held our precious baby. We prayed for him, we surrounded him with love and we told him to continue watching over his sisters. (We had decided on the name Gabriel long before we were pregnant and the name stayed as we learned we were having two girls and one boy. It was only appropriate as the girls developed TTTS, that their baby brother who's name was that of the angel Gabriel in the bible - "the strength of God" - was physically on top of, protecting his sisters. He was always higher up in my belly and usually sideways...)
After our time with him - we said goodbye.
Our nurse took him away and said they would prepare a memory box for him, just like his sisters'.
Andy held me and we cried. There was nothing we could say to each other that we hadn't already said - or that would help. There was nothing anyone could say or do that was going to help in that moment (or in the moment and days to come) our three, precious babies that we had been praying for, that we longed for for months, that we were so excited and honored to be the parents of had been born and died all within nine hours of each other. This had to be more than any person should ever have to face, more than anyone should ever have to go through, yet we were. We did.
The worst, physically, was over, but the emotional pain was just beginning.
Just like Rachel, our Baby Boy was breech and Dr. Armstrong had to break his water. After that, I don't think it was many contractions/pushes before he was out. Gabriel Andrew was born at 2:05pm.
What a different experience from Leah and Rachel. All three births were so different - just like all three babies are so different. At Gabriel's birth, there was the Neonatologists and pediatrician teams waiting. There was no "nurse" - or whatever she was - waiting with the standard baby blanket on her chest and holding her arms out, ready to take him after he was delivered. There was no one there for our Gabriel.
Before he was born, Dr. Armstrong asked if we wanted to hold him immediately after birth. I remember thinking "Why? Why would I want to hold him immediately - he's already dead - he has already left his body and joined his sisters?" So we asked for the nurse to clean and wrap him first.
After Gabriel was born, Dr. Armstrong asked Andy if he wanted to cut his cord. I sat there, silently weeping as Andy said no. I can't blame him.
I can only imagine how Dads feel during childbirth. Here is the woman you love (hopefully) who's body has grown and adapted to grow this child (or children) and now she has to physically get it out of her body and all you can do is stand there beside her. All you can do is hold her hand. All you can do is remind her that you love her and that she's so strong. Eventually, when the baby is born, cutting the cord, I feel, is traditionally saved for the Dad. That is HIS moment. Dad may not be able to actually participate in the labor of the birth, but he can cut the cord. He can free his child from the womb, so that it can be welcomed into loving arms.
But that's all for a live baby. And our Gabriel was not alive.
So, while I don't know what was going on in Andy's head during that moment, if I were him, I wouldn't have wanted to cut the cord.
I just have to give a side note for a moment: Andy had done so much - he held my hand, he stayed by my side, he encouraged me (he even told me that if he was doing something I didn't like or want, to just tell him and he would stop!), he told me he loved me, he told me I could do it, he told me I was strong, he told me it was going to be OK - he did everything he could, everything I needed him to do.
While the nurse was cleaning Gabriel, Dr. Armstrong told me that I would still need to deliver the placentas and she was hoping I could (and that we wouldn't have to go back into the OR) I, too, hoped it would be easy. Within mere minutes of Gabriel's birth, I felt the need to push again and asked Dr. Armstrong if I could. She said it was probably one of the placentas and if I wanted to push, I could. It didn't take much to get what was left of the pregnancy out of my body.
After looking it over, Dr. Armstrong, noticed that all three babies' cords were connected to this one piece. It seemed that somehow Gabriel's placenta had fused together with Rachel and Leah's. Assuming this was the case, after Leah and Rachel were born, their placenta probably began to detach from my uterus, and since they were fused together, it took Gabriel's too. With a detached placenta, Gabriel was no longer receiving what he needed to survive.
Of course, for a brief moment I wondered "Could we have changed this? What if we hadn't waited the hours we did after Rachel? What if we delivered him right away?" But as quickly as those thoughts entered my mind, I quickly pushed them back out again. There was no room for any "what ifs..." Because truthfully, I believe that our outcomes were going to be what they were going to be, and I had to believe that God spaced out the births for some reason. Even if only to give us time to grieve over Rachel and receive the epidural for help with the physical pain. He knew we needed a little time.
After all these thoughts, I knew it was time to hold our baby boy.
One might think after already holding and crying over two babies earlier that day that this might be easier - but nothing can prepare you for what it's like to hold your dead baby.
Gabriel, our sweet angel, was beautiful. Long fingers like his sisters and already had eyebrows like Andy. Andy said, and I agreed, that he looked the most like a "normal" newborn. Gabriel seemed to have the best coloring.
Just like we had done two times before, we held our precious baby. We prayed for him, we surrounded him with love and we told him to continue watching over his sisters. (We had decided on the name Gabriel long before we were pregnant and the name stayed as we learned we were having two girls and one boy. It was only appropriate as the girls developed TTTS, that their baby brother who's name was that of the angel Gabriel in the bible - "the strength of God" - was physically on top of, protecting his sisters. He was always higher up in my belly and usually sideways...)
After our time with him - we said goodbye.
Our nurse took him away and said they would prepare a memory box for him, just like his sisters'.
Andy held me and we cried. There was nothing we could say to each other that we hadn't already said - or that would help. There was nothing anyone could say or do that was going to help in that moment (or in the moment and days to come) our three, precious babies that we had been praying for, that we longed for for months, that we were so excited and honored to be the parents of had been born and died all within nine hours of each other. This had to be more than any person should ever have to face, more than anyone should ever have to go through, yet we were. We did.
The worst, physically, was over, but the emotional pain was just beginning.
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