“My Memaw had a brain aneurysm that left her unable to live alone when I was 15, followed quickly by dementia. She didn’t always know who we were. Some days she talked. Some days she didn’t. Some days she had it together. And some day, well, some days were rough.”
‘Somehow, she still managed to pray for each one of her children and grandchildren, by name, every single night. The nurses were always stunned by this. But we never were.’
‘I thought you would like to meet your children,’ the nurse said with a smile. She handed me a stack of pictures, my first glimpse of my tiny premature babies.’
“I met my son for the first time, thanks to this picture. A picture that was taken by our nurse. She walked in, making the trek from a different building and several floors away. She knew I was too weak to visit the NICU, and hoped seeing my children would help me heal.”
‘I don’t recall seeing a deck of cards in the nurse’s hand as I was given an epidural. I don’t recall hearing ‘Go Fish’ as I laid in the operating room while delivering my child.’
“You know what I do recall? The nurse who stood in the bathroom with me and gave me a shower after my C-section. The nurse who was on the helicopter with my mom the day she died, making sure she held her hand because even after she passed, she didn’t want her to be alone.”
‘My classmate’s baby had a fever. Our teacher told her to bring her. I heard Katie say, ‘She’s a little fussy,’ when handing her over.’
“Teachers like Dr. George will hold your sick baby when you can’t get a last minute sitter so you can take a test. She always makes it clear we can ask her for help.”
‘I bawled to my husband, ‘I came in for kidney stones. Now I’m praying we don’t have a micro-preemie in the NICU in California when we’re moving to Colorado in 3 weeks.’
“Nurses were rushing in. My baby’s heart rate was dropping. ‘Something’ was wrong, but nobody knew what. I started preparing myself for the reality of having one child in the hospital in one state, while we all lived in another.”
‘The doctor told us how rare the condition is, but he was even rarer. I gently held his tiny fingers and spoke softly to him, reassuring him he was alright and we were there with him.’
“He was seated behind his desk and immediately I noticed his uncomfortable body language. Nothing can prepare a mother for that. I understood the seriousness of everything, yet I was so excited and eager to meet my baby.”
‘The nurses started whispering I didn’t want to see my own daughter, that I was rejecting her. After hearing those comments, I got up. I touched her face. I told her, ‘Your mom is here.’
“I admit, her appearance is shocking to most people. Sometimes it’s impossible to not be uncomfortable when people stare at us in the street, and see her as an alien. I dream they can see her like I do, as a beautiful little girl.”
‘When I say my daughter died, people will often respond: ‘I’m sorry I didn’t know.’ Their response makes me smile.’
“I didn’t know there were so many excuses for avoiding a person just because their baby died. I didn’t know how hard it would be to watch them leave in a nurse’s arms, knowing they would never come back.”
‘Babe there’s no way I’m going to survive this. Fire surrounds us, transformers are blowing up and the winds are fierce.’
“It only seemed like seconds when we heard the ambulance in front of us was on fire.”
My child was stillborn, and I will never be the same
“You realize how profound and deafening silence can really be.”