Kristy’s Story

How my life forever changed in less then nine months…

I met the man of my dreams, my best friend in June 2000. We started dating in October 2000, were engaged January 1st 2003 and married on the most beautiful, perfect day on April 3rd, 2004. It was the wedding of my dreams. We started trying for a family right away, I went off the pill shortly after our wedding. We were blessed and got pregnant the first month after going off the pill – it was a long cycle, but it worked. At 9.5 weeks we found out we lost the baby. No signs, no cramping, no bleeding, but it was over. I had a D&C 2 days later. We started trying again 1 full cycle after my D&C. We weren’t getting pregnant though. Month after month, nothing worked. I was charting, using OPK’s, I knew when I was ovulating but nothing. I went on Clomid for the first time in December of 2004. I also had an HSG and Lap. Done. Both revealed nothing. I was on and off Clomid for 7 cycles.
We went and saw a fertility specialist in July of 2005. Tons of tests were run on me and hubby (well only an SA on him, his second as he had already been tested through my OB). Everything was fine, except we both tested positive for Micoplasma. Which is a bacterial infection and some Dr’s feel this infection CAN hinder conceiving. So, we were both put on a 14 week course of meds and couldn’t try for that cycle as we could be passing the infection back and forth. We did so, and the following cycle we conceived. The end of September 2005 was the first time seeing a BFP since May 2004. We were ecstatic yet terrified. I mean, did we really do it? Did we finally conceive? I had my first ultrasound at 7 weeks, to check for viability because of my previous miscarriage. To our shock we were told there were triplets. OMG, we were having THREE babies. We had always wanted three babies and couldn’t believe that we were going to get three…at once! We had another ultrasound at 9 weeks and 11 weeks, everything looked great. All 3 were growing on target and had strong heartbeats. Our families were over the moon excited, as were our friends. At our 13 week ultrasound, I had a bad feeling going in. I don’t know what it was, but I just felt like something wasn’t right…my fears came true.

When she put the wand on my belly, she turned the monitor away. She wouldn’t let me see anything. I started to cry instantly, as I thought it was over. She confirmed that something was wrong, but wouldn’t say what. I asked her if we lost the babies and she said sort of. She couldn’t tell me anything but kept asking when we were seeing my MFM next. We were seeing him following the appt, and that’s when she confirmed that we had lost the identical twins. We had just lost them in the pervious day or so. We were devastated, and cried all the way to the MFM’s office, and while we waited for him to come in the room. Luckily they didn’t make us wait and got us in immediately. We didn’t know what was ahead of us. We had lost 2 of the babies, but the third was growing big and strong, and measuring bang on. We were given the option of doing an amnios (one on each baby) to see if anything came up for reasons why we lost the twins. We were given the risks though and declined the amnios as the risks to the fraternal twin were too risky. We were already at a higher risk of loosing her just because of what happened to the twins, and it wasn’t worth it. We wanted to know why we lost them, but not at the risk of the remaining baby. We needed to give her the best chance possible.

I immediately went off work, and went on bed rest. I saw my OB and MFM bi-weekly, so seeing a Dr every week. I also got weekly ultrasounds. Baby was growing and thriving and didn’t seem the least bit affected by what happened. We were warned of many potential things that could happen in the pregnancy, loosing her, pre-term labour, pPROM, etc. Fortunately, nothing happened. I on the other hand, was a wreck. I cried every single day for the rest of the pregnancy. I was SO upset over loosing the twins, anytime I saw twins I broke down. I was so angry that after all those months of trying to get pregnant, when we finally do it falls apart. The rest of the pregnancy went on perfectly and I was induced at 38w1d. Because of the other 2 babies, and our daughter measuring smaller they wanted her out. Fine by me, I was insanely nervous. After a LONG, complicated labour she was born perfectly healthy, and changed our world forever on June 3rd, 2006. She was 6lbs 5oz, full head of hair and looked just like me…which only lasted a few weeks. She had dadda wrapped around her fingers the moment she was born.

The twins were delivered along with the placenta and everything went off to pathology for tested. Nothing was found, but we were told that either that was accurate and nothing was wrong, it was just a fluke. OR that because they had been in there for 25 weeks after they passed, that whatever would have shown why we lost them was gone. They had no fluid left, so that couldn’t be tested either. From the time we started trying, to the time we finally held our baby girl it was 25 months. 25 long months, full of much doubt, sadness and definitely moments of happiness. We always knew we wanted three babies, but we weren’t sure how possible that was given our history of conceiving. We knew we couldn’t go down that long road again and spend so much time focused on trying…we had a beautiful baby girl at home. We decided not to go back on birth control, and just see what happened. We weren’t trying, but we weren’t preventing. I wasn’t focusing on my cycles either. We had decided that when B was 7 months old, we would go back on fertility meds and the antibiotics and try again. When she was 5 months old, I thought I had a yeast infection. I went back on the antibiotics (the same ones I used when I had the Micoplasma infection) and to our huge surprise, 3 weeks later I found out I was pregnant.

I found out on B’s 6 month birthday. Holy crap. I was pregnant…again? *gulp*. I had an early ultrasound again, due to my history of miscarriage and multiples. To our relief, there was just one baby, heart beating wonderfully. Already, the pregnancy had started differently and so far was going great. I had no complications, saw my OB monthly like a normal pregnant person, had a few ultrasounds here and there but nothing like with B’s pregnancy. All of a sudden at 32 weeks, everything changed. I went to a routine OB appt and never left the hospital. When my OB listened for the heartbeat it was elevated, over 180. It remained that high for the 5 minutes my OB listened. He sent me up to L&D Triage to have an NST and ultrasound done. He wanted to see if baby was in stress or is my fluid levels were possibly low. The NST went okay, but did show I was having contractions, though I didn’t feel them. Every time I had a contraction, the heart rate dipped. I was checked and wasn’t dilated, phew. I wasn’t feeling very well, I was having chest pains. They sent me down to the ER to have my heart monitored and while down there I started contracting every 2 minutes. Very painful, couldn’t talk through them.

Once back up to Triage they checked me again, and this time I was 1cm. Not good. The OB on call (mine was in a delivery) admitted me right away. They were hoping that some fluids would slow things down, but most of the nurses were convinced I was going to deliver that night. I didn’t, they were all surprised. I hung on another week, when the morning of 33 weeks when I was having my first of twice daily NST’s, my water broke. They checked me shortly after it broke and I was 2cm’s dilated. They said they weren’t going to induce me, but that they weren’t going to stop things if I went in to full blown labour. Within an hour, I was 2.5 cm’s and baby’s head could be felt. This was it, no turning back. The next morning at 33w1d, on June 26th 2007 we welcomed our second child in to the world, our perfect baby boy. He was 5lbs 7oz, and a full head of hair just like his big sister. He was a great weight for his gestation but he was very bloated from all the fluids I had been given. Within 12 hours he had lost 10 oz. He was born with a bad chest infection and the first week was rough. But he was tough and fought back. He was in the NICU for 17 days and on lucky Friday the 13th, our baby boy was discharged.

Again, knowing we wanted 3 children we knew that K wasn’t our last baby. I was nursing K and my cycles didn’t return. At 9 months I weaned K, started back on Clomid and antibiotics and got pregnant right away. WOW! We were pregnant, and blessed. Our family would be complete. We didn’t realize that in 5.5 short months our lives would forever change…and not for the better. My pregnancy was rough from the start, I had lots of cramping from day one. We were warned that we had a 30% chance of another pre-term delivery, due to what happened with K’s pregnancy. We were on progesterone from day one, and I was later put on Adalat (which is used to help calm the uterus) as I was shown to have a very irritable uterus. I spent one night in the hospital at 19w6d due to bleeding, but they sent me home at 20w for home bed rest as sadly, since viability isn’t until 24 weeks there wasn’t much they could do for me.

They had identified placenta previa, and blamed the bleeding on that, and had noticed that my cervix had shortened in only a few days but it was still considered to be in the “safe zone”. By 20w2d, I had another ultrasound which had shown that the placenta previa had moved a bit, and they hoped that the bleeding would subside now that things looked to be better. That night I had a big bleed. I had another ultrasound, which showed my cervix had shortened again, but still in the “safe zone“. I was on home bed rest again until my next appt – which was the following week. My OB was now seeing me weekly. At my next appt, the bleeding and cramping had not improved even though I had been on bed rest – and was very strict about it. M had even taken the week off work to ensure that we could be diligent about me resting. My OB admitted me immediately for monitoring as he wasn’t comfortable that things hadn’t improved. I was going to be there at least a week, and possibly for the remainder of my pregnancy depending on how things went that first week.

On Saturday, at 20w5d my water broke. It wasn’t just a bit, or a trickle, it was a full loss – I was gushing for a good hour, soaking 5 bed pads within an hour. We were told by the Dr on call (my OB was away for the weekend), that we needed to make it to 24 weeks, for viability alone. That I was going on strict bed rest, and on high doses of antibiotics via IV to try and avoid infection. We were only given a 10% chance of making it to 24 weeks since I had a full loss of fluid so early on. On Sunday, I had an ultrasound which showed my amniotic fluid level to be 1. They like to see levels at 10 or above, so things weren’t good. We were still being hopeful of making it to 24 weeks, we had to be. We had nothing else to hold on to. We had decided at our ultrasound on the Sunday to find out the sex – we had decided at the beginning of pregnancy to wait until D-day to find out the gender, but given the circumstances we needed to know. We found out we were having another little boy, and were SO excited. On Monday, things went from positive to bleak. Mike and I were talking when all of a sudden my OB, my MFM, the head charge nurse, my nurse, the Chaplin, and our favourite nurse all walked in at once. We knew something was wrong.

My two Dr’s had seen my ultrasound report, and had talked. They came in to tell us that weeks 20-24 were imperative for lung development, and that amniotic fluid is needed for this to happen. They were assuming that my break wasn’t just a break, that it was a full tear and that any fluid that would replenish I would continue to loose – which was happening (and was later proven at delivery). We were then told the heartbreaking news….that no matter how long I held on, our baby boy would not survive outside the womb. We were stunned, this was not what we were expecting. We were given options, and didn’t know what to do. Apparently my body did as I went into labour Tuesday morning at 21w1d. Our little boy Everett was born at 4:44pm on Tuesday September 16th, 2008 weighing 15oz. He was perfect, and beautiful. Long fingers and big feet and only peach fuzz for hair – I think he would have been my bald baby. He was just too small, and too perfect for earth. He looked exactly like K did when he was born, only smaller. He proved to be a fighter, and his little heart continued to beat for over 2 hours before he was pronounced. We were told that most babies hearts beat for 2-3 minutes when born this early, but E, like his big sister and big brother was different. We got to hold our baby boy for his whole 2 plus hours on earth, and he grew his angel wings while daddy was rocking him in the glider.

E was Baptised when he was still alive, and that meant so much to us. We knew that if we had lost him shortly after birth we would not have been able to have him Baptised, only blessed. We continued to hold him after we lost him, took pictures with him and of him and just tried to take in everything about him. We talked to my OB more personally the following morning, and he told us that my placenta had an infection already, and had a smell to it. He said that had I not gone in to labour, I would have become very ill within days, or we would have lost Everett in the womb. As much as it pains me to say, we are lucky we had him when we did so we got those 2 plus hours with him. He never opened his eyes, he looked as though he was sleeping and he wasn’t in any pain. It was more than we could have asked for considering the circumstances. Sadly, being born at that gestation, there was nothing that could be done for him….

We buried our baby boy on Friday September 19th, 2009, and I have never felt such pain and emptiness. I thought I knew what pain was when we lost our twins, but giving birth to your baby and then realizing you will never take them home is the worst pain in the world. I gave birth to a baby, and left the hospital the following afternoon with a bag that contained things from my baby boy. Its not supposed to happen that way. If it wasn’t for B and K, and my incredible husband, I don’t think I could have gotten out of bed in the morning. The kids make me smile and laugh when I need it the most. Mike held me and let me cry….even though his heart is broken too. I don’t know when my heart will stop hurting, i’ve been told it will and that I will be okay….I don’t know how.

I do know that Everett is up in heaven, playing with the other babies taken too soon. And that we have another angel to keep watch over us. We weren’t sure that we were going to try again. After what we had been through, our hearts felt like they were beyond repair. And going through the struggle of trying again, and the risks of another pregnancy we weren’t sure our hearts could handle it. What if we lost another baby? What if there were complications? B & K were too young to understand what happened with E, but they would be older with another pregnancy. How would we explain that to them? In the end, we decided to try for another baby. And that baby – if we were lucky enough to conceive would be our last. No matter what the outcome, good or bad it was our last. 3.5 months after we lost E, I found out I was pregnant. Whhaaaat? That pregnancy ended as quickly as it happened, at 5 weeks it was over.

As soon as my cycle started again, we started trying. Loosing that little bean before we ever got to know him/her was so sad, that baby was our hope and it was gone. We knew we needed to try again though. We weren’t ready, we weren’t sure we would ever be ready. But we knew that we just had to jump in and take the chance. Back on the Clomid and and the antibiotics, the Progesterone, the OPK’s, the blood work, ultrasounds and timed sex. The same protocol we had always used, the same tiring, long journey. To our luck and surprise we conceived again. OMG, we did it. The terror, and sheer excitement set in. We were cautious and didn’t really let ourselves get too excited. Our fear took over our excitement, which I think is normal It wasn’t until about 18 weeks that I let it go, I told myself that I am pregnant NOW, I am going to enjoy this pregnancy NOW. Its going to be my last, I want to cherish every kick, roll and punch this baby gives me. I didn’t know when it would end so I needed to remember every moment of it and prepare for this babies arrival just like I did for my other babies. I even started buying some clothes, I was just so excited.

My pregnancy had been perfect, things going very smoothly and as much as I was nervous I was feeling confident. Confident that this pregnancy would have a different outcome then with E. Complications started around 16 weeks when I started to bleed. I had no previa and no reason to explain the bleeding. It wasn’t gushing blood but I had times of period like bleeding and times when it was just spotting. I did have bleeding every day, just the amount of blood changed. Things came to a crashing halt when at 19w4d, things started to unravel. I was admitted to hospital that evening for the night. They wanted to monitor me all night, as I was contracting and cramping quite badly. They had me on IV fluids and had given me a Demerol shot to try and calm my uterus (they were hoping that if I was relaxed more, that my uterus would relax). The following morning, they sent me for an ultrasound to check on my cervical length, where things looked positive. Yeah, I was discharged but on bed rest. For 2.5 weeks, I was at home resting, sleeping and essentially doing nothing. Quite boring but surprisingly the time went by pretty fast. I was now seeing my OB weekly, instead of bi-weekly like I had since the beginning of the pregnancy. Dr P had said many times to be prepared for admission at any time, but definitely by 24 weeks had things not improved.

At my appt at 21w6d, he had mentioned me going in the hospital but said that we would give it another week to see how things were going. He did tell me to go in to OB Triage at any time if I wasn’t doing well, and they would put me on IV fluids to try and calm things down. The next day at 22w, I was back in triage as I had had another big bleed. I was admitted shortly after arriving and was told that this was for the long haul. Dr P wanted 10-12 weeks, and as much as that would have been very hard to deal with I was willing to stand on my head if it meant keeping my baby inside. My stay had been pretty boring – I was placed on IV fluids to make sure that I stayed hydrated enough as they didn’t want the contractions and cramping coming because of something minor. I was given Demerol shots as needed through the day/night for pain management. I was also to keep to bed unless I had to go to the bathroom or shower. The kids and M came to visit twice a day, every day. It was great and so nice to see them. M was even able to come a couple of times at night for visits without the kids, which is something I needed. I missed him and it was lonely being the hospital, even though I had visitors.

Things were progressing as everyone had hoped – I was still in pain, cramping and having bleeding episodes but I was getting the best care I needed. It was planned that at 24 weeks (actually 23w6d) that M and I would be having a long talk with Dr P and my MFM about the “plan” for the remainder of my pregnancy. What was going to happen should x,y, z happen, the plan for me, the plan for baby, etc. We were in the wait for my first goal of 24 weeks, so just buying time. Unfortunately, things took a wrong turn and everything we were waiting for, hoping for was gone. Through the night on June 7th, my water started to leak. By 8am on the 8th, it was confirmed that my water had broken and that I was leaking amniotic fluid. I was only 23w4d. Plans were put in motion for what was going to happen next. I was put on antibiotics for any infections I could get (or already had) because my water had broken, I was given the first of 2 steroid shots for babes lungs (you get them 24 hours apart), and some pain meds. The Neonatologist was called in and talked about what to do. He felt the best plan for me and for baby was to be transferred out. This is something the OB on call had mentioned (Dr S, my Dr was off that day), and was looking in to while I was talking with the Neonatologist.

Dr S came back in and said that a hospital 2.5 hours away was willing to accept me as a patient and that as long as M and I were okay with it, I would be heading there ASAP. It was such a whirlwind, that I wasn’t sure what I was processing, or what was going on. I was terrified for my baby, terrified for me. I was stunned at what was happening. It wasn’t what was supposed to be happening….again. So, the EMT’s arrived and I was loaded up in the ambulance for a road trip. It was a level 4 transfer which meant lights and sirens the whole way. Before I was even transferred though, I had started contracting. Dr S was considering switching my transfer to a hospital in the States (which is what we were hoping for), but she was afraid that the process to get me transferred would take too long and that I would be at the other hospital quicker. We didn’t have any say in the matter, and really all we wanted was what was best for our baby. I was scared to go on this journey alone, M wasn’t allowed to come with us, so we each had to make the journey alone. I arrived in there at about 1pm. M had to go home to get things taken care of with the kids and get them packed up to go to his parents house. The hope was that M would be home Tuesday or Wednesday and all would be well. I had been contracting most of the trip every 1-2 minutes. It was hell – I was in so much pain.

Once there, my care was transferred to a huge team of Dr’s – so many were coming in and out of my room, I didn’t know who was who. A team from the NICU came in to talk to me (at this point, I was still alone as M hadn’t arrived yet). The Neonatologist explained how things worked, what would happen should baby be born that night, etc. The OB there, Dr P and her team of Drs came in to talk to me about what was going on. They were going to do an ultrasound and check me. I was hooked up to monitors when I initially arrived which confirmed the contractions. They also gave me some Demerol through my IV to try and relax my uterus and to help with the pain. An ultrasound was done and showed that baby was breech, and there was still some fluid around him. That was great news, or so we thought. They checked me and I was 1cms dilated. They continued to monitor me, and I started gushing fluid. I don’t know if he was just changing positions or I had another tear but I was loosing lots of fluid by late afternoon. M finally arrived about 4pm, and I was so happy to see him. I broke down and started crying as soon as he came in. They did another ultrasound around 6pm and it was confirmed that there was little to no fluid now – I think the OB resident said there was no measurable fluid. Oh and baby was still breech. Now the concern was for cord prolapsed, meaning babes cord coming down first and not him. So now I wasn’t allowed out of bed anymore. I was also showing big signs of infection. They had confirmed from my urine that I had an infection, and I was having a lot of discharge that was indicating another infection. I was still on the IV meds from my home hospital, so they just continued those which I was getting every 4 hours. They started talking about different kinds of pain management as I was in a lot of pain and they were looking to calm me down again to try and calm my uterus down. I was checked again around 8pm I think, and was found to be at 1.5cms but he was still high up. We decided to have an epidural placed, as it was the best option for me and for baby should delivery be eminent.

We wanted him as alert as possible after delivery, and we knew that other pain meds would affect him too much. M for the first time was able to be in the room while the epidural was being put in – after 3 other deliveries going through that alone, it was nice to have him there holding my hand. The epidural was placed and we had some issues getting it to work on my right side. My left side took to it well, but not my right side. They adjusted the line in my back and things started to work better, though not as well as the left side. By late evening, the infection was only getting worse. I was having yellowish discharge, but it had changed to green, then a mustard yellow as time progressed. Around midnight, things started to slow down. Baby was having random issues with his heart rate, decels they call them. Where his heart rate was dipping very low but it would rebound. Phew, dodged another bullet for a needed an emergency c-section. We knew that I would need a c-section due to him being breech, but they were watching me for progress and baby showing any signs for distress in terms of if or when they would perform the section. They said baby was in the best position possible for the situation we were in. They said that had he been head down, he would have put more pressure on my cervix to dilate, but since he was feet down there wasn’t as much pressure. So although I had been contracting consistently for 15 plus hours, I was still only at 1.5 cms. I had been moved to a bigger room around 1am (finally), still a labour room though. They were going to keep me on the monitors through the night, as well as keep the epidural and catheter in. They wanted to be sure 100% that things were calming down. By morning things were going well. They had given me some Ativan to help me get some sleep, and while I didn’t get much I was able to get some random bouts of rest.

The contractions had all but stopped through the night, and baby was doing great. The infection was still very much present though, and my nurse had made a comment about it being concerning though I didn’t think much about it. I was just thinking more meds would take care of it and everything would be fine. At about 830am they had removed my epidural, and took off the monitors (Drs orders). They had given me breakfast – even though I wasn’t hungry, I was SO thirsty. I hadn’t eaten since 830pm Sunday night, and now it was 830am Tuesday morning. I ate a little bit, but really had to go to the bathroom. Dr P had come in to talk to us and she said that she was very happy that things had slowed down. She said they were going to move me over to anti-natal for bed rest. I would be given antibiotics to help prevent any more infections due to my water breaking and for the vaginal infection I had. She said they would also be giving me stool softeners as they didn’t want me pushing because of the situation. She said the goal was to get me to 26 weeks and to send me back home to my hospital. She said that patients do so much better in their own environments, with their own Drs, family/friends. I was feeling very positive about everything, and thinking that we were really going to make it. The epidural wore off quickly, though my left leg was still pretty numb, my right side was okay. At around 9am my catheter came out, ouch that hurt. M and my nurse helped me to the washroom around 910am. It took a bit to get me in there as my legs were numb and hard to walk on, but we made it. Good thing M is strong, as he took the brunt of my weight. I got in the washroom, M and my nurse gave me some privacy and that’s when things got scary. I knew I had to go to the washroom, so I peed and then felt as though I needed to take a BM. I started to push, but something felt off. I wasn’t feeling the right sensation when I pushed and something felt different down below. I put my hand down there to feel, and I started to panic. I called for M to come in because something wasn’t right, but he didn’t hear me.

I yelled his name in a panic and he came in. I told him that I felt something that wasn’t right, but he thought I meant something with my tummy. My nurse happened to walk in at the same time and I told her I felt something, and it didn’t feel right. She put her hand between my legs and said “it’s the baby”. I lost it, started crying and my legs literally gave out on me. I couldn’t walk, but my nurse was trying not to panic as she was telling me to walk and for M to help me. I just remember freaking out, and yelling it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to be born. We somehow made it to the bed, and they had to literally lift me on the bed since I couldn’t get on and I couldn’t sit normally as baby was crowing. Next thing we know, there are a dozen people in the room. They had me on the bed, still in my flip flops telling me to push. M had to pull back my left leg and so many people were yelling and telling me what to do as I was freaking out, crying and panicking. All I kept yelling was that he couldn’t come, it wasn’t time. I was hysterical. M was crying – he was so freaked out by everything that was going on. Everything that was happening so suddenly. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, I wasn’t supposed to be giving birth – let alone vaginally since he was still breech. I was supposed to be changing rooms and resting for 2 weeks, not giving birth. How could things change so quickly?

Next thing I know, his bottom half was out, and another Dr steps in as head is stuck. His hand was up near his head which was making it harder to deliver him. They were yelling at M to pull my leg up higher, they were trying to separate my hips more. What felt like an eternity he was fully born. At 9:28am on June 9th, 2009 (23w5d) my beautiful, perfect, tiny baby born Leyland was born. He was gone before I knew it, and so was M. I told him to follow the team of Drs as I didn’t want L to be alone. They hooked me up to Pitocin to make sure I kept contracting so the placenta could be delivered. M came back within 10 minutes to tell me that L was going down hill, his heart rate was very low and they weren’t sure that they could bring him back. M told them to just let him go, that we didn’t want him to be in pain and that this is what he (meaning L) wanted. That he was too tired and just wanted to go to sleep. He came back and told me the news and we just held each other and cried. This was not how this was supposed to end. The ending should have been us taking home our baby boy to meet his big sister and big brother and hear all about his big brother in heaven.

About 10 minutes later, our nurse comes back in and says that they got him back, and were able to get him intubated. M went right away to the NICU to see what was going on. I was left alone, was stunned and scared. Going from being told we were loosing our son, to being told they had him back. How do you handle that? Was this all some sort of sick joke? Why were our emotions being played with? I was so confused, so scared. Not to mention in a hell of a lot of pain.

I delivered L vaginally, breech, med free – ouch. While M was gone the second time, they delivered the placenta, cleaned me up a bit and gave me some pain meds. M came back and said he was perfect, but so very tiny. L was a wee 1lb 8oz, but was holding strong. About an hour after he was born I was finally able to go see him. I was so excited, but so scared. I was scared to see what he was going to look like hooked up to so many things, M had warned me about all the machines he was hooked up to, the IV’s and about how tiny he was. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw. All I could see was the most perfect, beautiful baby boy. L looked just like me, he even had some hair. He was so active, kicking his arms and legs all around. We just knew he was going to be such a fighter. We had L Baptised around noon that day, we weren’t sure what was going to happen with him and we wanted to make sure that above all else he was Baptised. It was beautiful, they dressed him in the most perfect Baptismal gown, and hat. The priest was great, and we got some wonderful keepsakes from that. The next 2.5 days are very much a blur. I know it was full of many many tears, and many smiles for our baby boy. We were so happy to go see him so many times a day and take hundreds of pictures – literally. He made us smile, and laugh and just think so many positive things. We were so proud of him for being so strong. But amongst the happiness we felt, we felt a very large cloud of doom.

We had many meetings with social workers, pastoral care and most importantly many members of the NICU team. We were told of L’s condition, how he was doing, what was wrong, and his future prognosis. By late afternoon on Thursday, L had really deteriorated. They told us he didn’t have much longer. We decided the best thing for L was to let him go before he endured any more pain. Let him go to sleep, and let him finally be at peace. L tried to make his own decision the morning he was born, he tried to let go, he tried to go to sleep but we forced him to come back. Maybe selfishly, but we wanted to try so hard for him, we wanted so much for him to be with us. That night, around 5:45pm they brought L to us, in my room. In the room we had cried so many tears, had so many talks – good and sad about him. In the room we had shared our news about his birth….and subsequently, the room we let L finally be at peace. For the first time, we saw him free. Free of any wires, IV’s, machines, sounds. It was so peaceful. The only thing still attached to him was a breathing tube – they had kept him intubated as they were afraid of loosing him before they brought him to us. They kept him alive for about 20 minutes in our room via the pump (they had an oxygen tank, that was pumping air in to him). We got to hold him, kiss him, talk to him and have him blessed again. They had called in another priest for us as we wanted L blessed again before he went to sleep.

L left us at 6:50pm on June 11th, 2009 while I rocked him in a rocking chair. I kept telling him over and over again that it was okay to go. That it was okay for him to go to sleep. That we loved him so much, and were so very proud of him. We had a lot of pictures taken, we held L, we cuddled him, we talked to him. M told him about sports, and we told him about his sister and brothers. We told him that E was waiting for him, and for them to behave up in Heaven together. We couldn’t believe our lives had changed again. And for the second time, not for the better. The next afternoon, I was discharged from the hospital, and for the second time I left without my baby boy. I was wheeled out of the hospital carrying a hand carved wooden box and a plant.

In less then 9 months, we lost 2 of our children.

We were going to have to bury a second child. How do you do that? Its unimaginable to bury one child, but two? How do we go on. We buried L right next to his big brother on Monday June 15th, 2009. And now, where do we go? What do we do? How do we move on from the death of two of our children? Two innocent babies who didn’t know anything about the world around them, nothing about us, their siblings. They left us way too soon. The normal chain of life was broken. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children, children are supposed to become adults and then one day bury their parents. Its not natural, a child should never be buried, a child should never die. Parents should never be left with that kind of pain, that kind of heartbreak.

People have told me I am brave, I am strong. I don’t think I am. I am not doing anything extraordinary, in fact I’m just living. I have to get up everyday. I have to function, I have to live. I have two living children and a husband that I have to live for. As much as I want to give up, as much as I want to scream and yell, I can’t. I do grieve, every.single.day. I cry every.single.day. I am angry every.single.day. I will grieve for the rest of my life. I’m not healed, not even close. I have had to find a way to live this new life. I have had to find a way to function in this world without 2 of my babies. I don’t like it, and if I could turn the clock back and bring my baby boys back I would.

I do know one thing, as hard as this new life is I wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant I would have never met my baby boys. My life forever changed on September 16th, 2008 and my life forever changed again on June 11th, 2009. I said hello and goodbye to my baby boys in the span of hours. Not years, not decades…hours. Where is our future? I don’t know. I don’t know what our future holds, where we will be, if we will have more children. My heart years for another baby. My heart aches to hold and smell another baby, my baby. But at the same time, I’m not sure I can handle another heartbreak if we were to lose another baby. We have decide to try again, though I’m not sure if it will ever happen. Whether we put a stop to it, or nature just doesn’t allow it to happen again. I do know that I wake up every day thinking of my 4 babies…and I go to bed every night after kissing B & K and telling them I love them. I crawl in to bed and kiss my stuffed giraffe that represents E and my stuffed frog that represents L and tell them I love them. Not a single night goes by that I don’t say goodbye to my 4 babies. It will be like that for the rest of my life. I have 2 angels who walk with me every day, 2 angels who fly in Heaven, and 4 stars in the sky. I think I am incredibly blessed.

Be sure to check out Kristy’s Blog – http://mooooonandback.blogspot.com

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