This post is another post about me. Hopefully it will give you a little more background info about me.
My husband Tim and I tried for years (3 1/2 years at this point) to become pregnant. I did a dye test (called an HSG) which was painful and uncomfortable, I had laparoscopy surgery to check my tubes, my husband was tested, and I took my temperature religiously for many years so I could chart my cycles and try to find an answer. We finally resorted to IUI (Intra Uterine Insemination) and after two tries a miracle happened. I was pregnant!
To say we were thrilled would be an understatement. We started buying a few essentials for baby and I looked at and longed for baby clothes and diapers and all that comes with them. We felt our baby move and heard his heartbeat numerous times. We were so excited to find out if we were having a boy or a girl so we could start decorating and planning. We headed to THE ultrasound appointment with anticipation and excitement. But it only took a moment for that to change. The ultrasound tech got a funny look on her face and didn’t say a word. She kept moving the tool around without saying anything. She then let us know that our baby did not have a heartbeat. She quickly called my doctor who advised me that I needed to head to the hospital so I could deliver my baby. With no heartbeat. At 20 weeks.
I remember calling my mom as soon as we left that appointment. She laughed as she answered the phone saying she knew I couldn’t wait long to call her. She was expecting to find out if we were having a boy or girl. I can still remember the exact words I said. “My baby is dead.” And I lost it, sobbing into the phone. We drove to the hospital and were checked in to labor and delivery. The doctor came to start my labor. So many mothers and fathers in the rooms around us were getting ready to welcome their new bundles of joy with happy, smiling faces, and newborn cries. But not us.
I remember not wanting to talk to or see anyone. I just couldn’t stand the thought of facing the reality of what was happening. And if others were there it would be real. I couldn’t keep hiding inside my mind. Even with Tim there holding me while I cried and shedding tears himself, I felt utterly alone.
It was a short 7 hours later after dealing with all the regular contractions and labor pains (including an epidural), that I gave one quick push and my tiny, non breathing, silent hearted, baby boy was born. I held him in my arms and bawled. Until that point we still hadn’t known if it was a boy or girl. Without seeing a heartbeat at the ultrasound, the gender had been forgotten.
Tim and I discussed a name for our firstborn and decided that Quentin James was fitting. We had his body cremated and had a short ceremony at my brother’s house. His ashes are now in my living room.
This was easily the darkest time in my life. I struggled with the idea of never becoming a mother. I convinced myself that God didn’t have that in His plan for me. I was angry and afraid. I retreated into myself for a long time. The only reason I survived this dark time was because of my wonderful, supportive husband and my family.
I now have peace that I will be with Quentin someday. And I know I am a better mom because of having gone through this. But I would never wish it on anyone. It was the hardest thing I have been through. The pic above is of Quentin’s tiny little hands and footprints. They weren’t very developed so you can’t see them very well. It breaks my heart just looking at them.