We weren’t ready for our baby to come yet. No overnight bag was packed, and no keys and shoes were left by the door. We got ourselves together at light speed, and Kevin drove us to the hospital. Every minute felt excruciating, but I stayed focused by praying and hoping everything would be okay. Deep down, however, I knew it was too soon.
Once we got to the ER, I approached the attendant and told her I needed help because I was in labor. “Congratulations!” she exclaimed, smiling and seemingly genuinely happy for me. “No,” I replied, it’s too soon, I’m only 6 months pregnant. Her face went from happiness to dread, and they took me to the labor and delivery floor immediately. Kevin was by my side, assuring me that everything would be okay, and although I kept my mind set on that hope, deep down, I knew it was too soon.
We were put in a room, and I was immediately hooked up to a machine that would check his heartbeat through a wire wrapped around my stomach. There was silence, and my heart sank. From the beginning, during every check-in, my doctor commented on how strong our baby’s heartbeat was. Today there was silence. “His heart isn’t beating,” I told the nurse. “Well, let’s check one more thing, dear, just breathe,” she said, appearing calm and collected. “I’m so sorry, Kevin! I’m so so sorry,” I cried as he held my head. “Babe, stop, don’t apologize. We still don’t know what’s happening,” he replied. But I knew. I could no longer feel my son. It was too soon.
“I think it’s time to deliver,” the nurse interjected. They wheeled me to what would be my labor and delivery room. Within seconds a doctor was there with more nurses, and as he was preparing to help me deliver my precious son, he paused and said, “I’m sorry we could not locate a heartbeat from your son, and his foot is visible. I am so sorry for your loss, but we need to deliver him.” My heart shattered, I looked at Kevin, and I could tell his heart was shattered too. Tears streaming down both our eyes, I apologized again. Our baby would not be coming home with us. His lungs weren’t fully developed, and his little body couldn’t survive being out in the world yet. He was born in the early hours of February 27th. Before the sun rose that day, Kevin and I were forever changed.
He was so precious and looked identical to his father. They had the same shaped head, the same forehead vein, the same shaped eyes, and long hands and big feet. I was not surprised. I knew KDB would be his father’s twin. Seeing Kevin hold our baby was bittersweet. I dreamed of this day when I would be able to enjoy seeing the man I loved spending time with our baby, holding him and loving on him but this, this was cruel. I felt so many emotions but was somehow just numb. Our baby was gone. I had failed as his mother to keep him safe, and he was gone. I was filled with rage and felt so much disgust with a body that didn’t keep him safe. I felt anger. So much anger. I felt shame and felt disconnected from myself. I wanted to jump out of my skin!! Why the hell would my dad not protect my baby? Why did he show up celebrating our baby and not protect his baby girl from this unimaginable heartbreak? I was furious! How could my doctor not see this coming? Why would God do this? Why did my body fail me?! I was drowning in questions with no answers other than the reality of what was. My son was dead, and I had no clue how to move forward.
Read from the beginning – Go to Part I and Part II Here
Read the next part – Go To Part IV and Go to Part V