“As we pack up our belongings and head to the car, my husband can tell something is off. The moment we get into the car, I break down. We had been faced with the unimaginable. Two of our children passed away.”
‘Our life came to a halt. Our son was gravely ill. Looks can be deceiving. I tell him how guilty I am. His eyes become glassy. ‘I’m OK. I have a son,’ he says with a smile. I begin to sob.’
‘I went into my son’s room to wake him. I could sense something wasn’t right. I remember the pallor of his face as I turned him over. Grey. Porcelain.’
“I screamed my husband’s name. ‘His stomach is warm!,’ I said out loud. I fell over my baby’s body. Air escaped his throat in a tiny wheeze that sounds like a coo. ‘He made a noise!’ Their faces fell. ‘It’s from the CPR.’ ‘It happens.’ They were trying not to fall apart.”
‘I text him. ‘I’m so sorry, do you need me?,’ he asked. ‘No. I don’t need you. You wanted this.’ We’re fighting again. We lay in bed. Our bed. We cry. I cannot give him what he wants.’
“When I get home, all his things are gone. Like he was never there. I don’t make it two steps past the house door. I lay there and I cry. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I do not want to be here. This is going to kill me.”
‘The pain radiated from my stomach to my legs. I threw up. Finally, the fetus came out. I caught a glance of the baby in the toilet, before flushing it down.’
“I laid in the doctor’s office. Brandon stood there recording the whole thing, expecting to document the most exciting moment of our lives. She started asking me strange questions that seemed crazy at the time. It wasn’t until days later it hit me.”
‘At 17, I got pregnant with an older man with 3 kids. Months after labor, blood was trickling from my baby’s mouth. ‘Everything is going to be okay. It has to be.’ I begged him to breathe.’
“He was unusually fussy the night before, but eventually fell asleep. I got up to make lunch and then it happened. I cry. I fall. I cannot breathe. I need to call my mom. She thinks it’s a joke. The police are here to question us.”
‘Are you at work? Can you call me?’ I’m thinking, ‘Today is the day I get to meet Abigail!’ Now I’m over-excited! I call, her tone is bleak, then she begins to cry. ‘Abigail didn’t make it.’
“The unthinkable happened. Abigail’s mother no longer wanted to be around me. I was a reminder of our trauma. All together, we lost 3 children in this pregnancy. Who am I to tell her how she should feel?”
‘I’m not attached to my baby. There, I said it.’
“It’s a harsh reality to admit, and I’m sure I’ll get a few gasps. But it’s the honest truth. And I know I’m not alone. I shrug off compliments from strangers about my pregnancy. This is my coping mechanism.”
‘She said, ‘That’s them. That’s my son’s parents. That’s who I’ve been looking for.’ And then, I told her you were pregnant.’
“Her entire demeanor changed. The pause felt like an eternity. There could be two ends to this. My hand flew to my mouth as a gasp of air escaped and a sob caught in my throat. Stunned.”
‘Are you mom?’ I nodded, ‘Yes.’ He ran along the canal for a mile. He saw the farmer pulling her out of the water. Our sweet girl had bumped into this farmer’s leg.’
“With 10 adults and 5 kids present, anyone would assume our daughter would have been safe. But after unexpected guests rang the doorbell, a bag of popcorn started on fire, and multiple kids ran outside, it only took seconds for Preslee to slip past everyone into the canal.”
‘During a regular, boring trip to the grocery store at 26-weeks pregnant, I went into labor. We rushed to the hospital. The NICU doctor had to ‘speak with us.’ My heart broke all over again.’
“At first, my little ‘hobby’ was an outlet – a very private and personal one. We had recently endured the sudden loss of our son. It was noticed by friends – and friends of friends. I quickly realized there were so many mamas that understood.”
