XO, Isabel

Hope and Courage: Our Surrogacy Journey

Acts of Kindness – #KindnessProject

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With Leo’s due date being today, January 11, 2014, I had been wanting to do something to honor his memory. I decided that I would carry out Random Acts of Kindness during the week leading up to his due date.

Doing this and asking others about Acts of Kindness has inspired me to find a way to be conscious of this at all times. But, what has become apparent, is that I am not so sure that we’re often able to recognize and then recall Acts of Kindness bestowed upon us. I’m meditating on this and how to find a practical way to both recognize and acknowledge these moments of kindness. More to come on this topic.

That being said, losing my son has been quite the learning experience for me. I am thankful for the journey or the willingness to learn and grow from the tragedy of losing my son. I am finding that my being kind to others (and myself!) that I am able to feel more connected to his spirit. The idea that he only knew love and my own heart, it seems fitting that his calling card should be Kindness.

Please consider making a Random Acts of Kindness list for 2014. See how many of them you can complete. Or, consider getting a group of friends together and make your own lists and then exchange them. Try and complete some of each other’s acts. Or, make a list with your children and/or family. I guarantee you will be astounded by the way it makes you feel to do kind things for others. The world needs more of this – if only to allow for us to recognize and appreciate kindness all around us.

We live in a self-centered world. Let’s change that.

Here are some inspiring quotes & ideas to get you started:

“My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” – The Dalai Lama

RAK: Plant a Tree

RAK: Write a note to someone that has made an impact in your life, even for a moment. Recognize it and let them know.

“The purpose of life is a life of purpose.” – Robert Byrne

RAK: Open up a phone book or choose someone in your neighborhood and send them a greeting card.

RAK: Appreciate YOURSELF as an act of kindness. Treat yourself to something you have held back on.

“What you deny to others will be denied to you, for the plain reason that you are always legislating for yourself; all your words and actions define the world you want to live in.” – Thaddeus Golas

RAK: Give another driver your parking spot.

RAK: Pick up litter.

“Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom.” – Theodore Isaac Rubin

Here’s the small list of things that I did this week (only to inspire you and MYSELF to continue this practice).

– Bought a young foster child her very first bike through OneSimpleWish.org
– Paid for Someone’s lunch (co-worker)
– Donated books for children that need them through FirstBook.org
– Paid for Someone’s dinner (stranger)
– Donated diapers & wipes to HomelessPrenatal.org
– Paid for someone’s birthday cake! (I spoke to the baker at Safeway and we found a cake on order for a Baby’s 1st Birthday. I left a card for when they picked up the cake today)
– Couple’s massages scheduled for US. (It’s difficult to be kind to yourself when you are grieving, it’s a MUST, however)
– I’m hoping to do a few more today when we’re out and about, including being extra generous to our massage therapists and perhaps paying for someone’s movie ticket!

January 11, 2014 is sort of my own New Year’s Day. May this year be better than the last.

XO, Isabel

Why do we wait?

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During the past week or so, I’ve stepped into myself. You see, I’m an introvert and I spend a lot of time in my head, with my thoughts. They quickly oscilate and would be hard to keep up with. Usually, I have an easy time of remembering things. Keeping calendars in my head. Remembering faces and names. During my pregnancy, it was the first time I had truly experienced what everyone dubs as “pregnancy brain.” I didn’t like it one bit, I’ll admit. Anyway, the point of this is because there is one thought that has been bothering me. And rather than keep it in my head or write it down to discuss another time, I decided to just stop what I’m doing and write about it now.

It’s about announcing pregnancy. So many times you hear someone give a newly pregnant woman the advice of “wait.” The advice is simply that you shouldn’t share the news of a new pregnancy until your second trimester. And most of us oblige. And I ask – “Why?”

Why do we wait to share such exciting news? Nowadays, we live in a world of Social Media where we live with Facebook and Twitter and INSTAgram. We want to share everything NOW. What we’re watching, how we’re feeling, what we’re eating and the color of our new nail polish. But, to share that you’re pregnant when you first find out is somehow taboo.

Why?

I understand, truly I do. As a woman that has now experienced five (5) pregnancy losses, all in different stages of pregnancy, I subscribed to this rule, mostly. But, the more miscarriages I had, the less and less I believed that this rule was actually any help at all. One could explain away the reasons for waiting to share news, and that would simply be so that we don’t have to explain to others that our pregnancy has ended, should we be met with being included in the most unfortunate of statistics; miscarriage.

But, why are we afraid to share? Why are we afraid to let people know of our loss? Do we feel shame? Do we feel embarrassment? “Oh no! I lost the baby, now everyone will think I was so stupid for sharing my news so soon, I JYNXED it!”

Bollocks!

I began to believe that I should share the news as early as I feel comfortable and with those I felt comfortable with. As much as I wanted to contain my news from others, I felt the need to share. And, yes, we did wait until our second trimester to share the news publicly via Social Media and the like. That didn’t make me any safer.

What it did prove to me is the immense support system that I have all around me. I didn’t need to apologize for my sadness and grief. I didn’t need to feel shame or embarrassment. I got to be the face of miscarriage and infertility to my family & friends. The same people that experienced joy at our happy news of expecting could also be an integral part of our healing as we announced the loss of our son. The same people that would be happy for us can also grieve with us.

And I think…what if I go through this again? What if I get pregnant again? Now waiting 13 weeks isn’t safe anymore. But is waiting until 18 weeks? What about 38 weeks? Sadly, a loss like mine and like those of countless others can happen at any time.

I refused to be paralyzed by the stigma that miscarriages should remain unspoken. That early pregnancies shouldn’t be celebrated. I’m not saying that should I ever get pregnant again that I’ll be out & about blasting the news over loudspeakers, but, I certainly won’t hide the fact that I am pregnant out of shame, fear or anxiety. I refuse to sit back and let the fear of the unknown overpower the great joy that being pregnant can be.

So, next time you are tempted to give the advice to someone, especially a daughter, daughter-in-law, sister or best friend, consider why. Revisit those reasons and consider other options. Analyze why you think she should wait to announce. Make sure it’s not because of fear.

You share your news with anyone you wish to share with. Allow those that can feel joy with you to also feel and see you through your fears. The biggest difference between sharing and not sharing is in who can be there to support you. For if you never share what happened, you will live with Unspoken Grief, and well, girl, that just isn’t fair.

XO, Isabel

A day out

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Today was the first time in exactly two weeks that I’ve left the house alone. Today marked exactly two weeks that our nightmare began.

I needed to stop by work today to pick up some personal items of mine. I also went out to lunch with two wonderful women that I recently learned about that co-founded a project that I wish to stand behind. They are mothers that have experienced the types of losses that I have. Their stories are different, but the same. They had kind words to share, supportive hugs and lots of hope. I didn’t really shed a tear while I told them what happened to me. To Leo. To us. It was as if I was wearing a full-body brace to keep me upright and stable.

Part of my journey to meet them was by my usual means of transportation to the City; the train. It was bittersweet. The last time I rode the train, I was still pregnant. I had a bump and I had started to struggle a little bit with back pain and I always hoped I’d be able to get an empty seat. Today, the train was empty as I wasn’t riding during the usual rush-hour traffic.

All day I payed more attention to things. To people. I saw one man sleeping on the hard ground wrapped in blankets and surrounded by the warm comfort of his dog, his companion. I saw lots and lots of pregnant women. I saw lots of baby strollers and young children.

I also saw a woman in a moment of deep sorrow. She sat right in front of me. She was a pretty woman. She was wearing a white eyelet dress. She had a lime green cover on the iPad she was reading from that she pulled from her red backpack. Not too long after she arrived, a tall & handsome man showed up and he bent over to embrace her while she sat still. He kissed her on the lips and on her cheeks. He put his hands on her body, her thighs. Surely it was her husband, or lover, I thought. And then just like that, she began to sob. I could only tell after he separated himself just the tiniest bit from her body. Her entire body shuddered with pain, the tears just fell from her eyes and rolled off the tip of her nose. He held her closer. He took out a few tissues from his pocket and wiped her tears away. She looked so comforted by his presence. It looked like she was wearing her full body brace, but with the appearance of her friend, a loved one, she was able to shed the brace and let go.

I felt as if I was watching the scenario that plays out in our bed almost every night. For, it’s every night that my brace starts to give out and my resolve to be strong is no longer there. It’s when my mind loses its guard and I’m no longer able to stop the images and thoughts and the deep longing for our son from flooding my entire being.

Today, that moment came much earlier. My strength started to weaken on the train ride home. There was a family with a cute little girl and a stroller. And it made me remember that before I made cremation plans for Leo, just a few weeks ago we were giddy with excitement at the Baby store testing out strollers. Then, everything just made me want to cry. Everything. I haven’t been able to shake it since then.

And then tonight at 11:11 pm, I said what I usually say … “Make a wish! It’s 11:11” — and then I remember that on my birthday, just two days before we learned of Leo’s fate, I had wished the hardest I had ever wished on the candle of my dessert; please protect Leo. Please let him be healthy. Please let him be born. Please let him be OK. Please let the tests be wrong. Please, just get us through this, just let it all be OK.

And I blew out my candle.

And my wish didn’t come true.

XO, Isabel

A crimson heart

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We’ve been waiting for news on Leo’s remains. We were told we’d be notified when the Neptune Society had taken possession of his little body.

Today was that day. We received a call about an hour ago and I paid over the phone for him to be treated with dignity and care. Our Funeral Counselor has been trained well. To treat others with compassion. Simply hearing her say “I wanted you to know that we picked up your baby this morning and he’s in our care…” was enough for me to exhale and feel like we’re not the only ones on the planet that knew that he was a baby. OUR baby. And that he was real and his passing has caused deep sorrow and grief.

I know this is part of the process, but, I wept after hanging up the phone. I wept because I was relieved that he was no longer at the hospital and could finally have some sort of rest, some closure. I weep because I am anticipating the next phone call: He’s ready to be picked up.

He’ll be in his permanent home, a tiny little keepsake urn with his name engraved on it: Leo.

It’s a crimson heart, because just like in our hearts, his name will be forever engraved.

XO, IsabelGrecian_Series___CRM 3-458x324

This time it was different

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This time it was different. My previous losses always happened so very early. Before the world could know. Before my body changed outwardly enough to even have a clue as to my delicate state.

This time it was different. This time, we did all the “right” things and waited until we were past the first trimester before announcing to the world (AKA Facebook) that we were expecting.

This time it was different. I picked out 3 pairs of shoes out so that I could photograph them and add my own creative twist on our pregnancy announcement.

This time it was different. I felt morning sickness. I felt him move. We saw his little heartbeat. It was strong. It was as strong as a Lion’s.

This time it was different. We knew what we were having. All the little ones before were mostly a mystery. Only a whisper of a dream. What-ifs and what-nots.

This time it was different. I had a bump. A very real bump. I had only started to embrace this dream. Embrace my growing belly and who was inside.

This time it was different. I went on a shopping spree for maternity clothes. My shirts were too short to cover the stretchy panel of my maternity jeans. I had to put them all away. I think “maybe I can use them next time” but, admit, I’m not sure if there will be a next time.

This time it was different. It’s a BOY!

This time was different. We had picked out his name. His name is Leonardo. Leo. Our son, always & forever.

BabyG_Preg_announcement_web BabyG_Preg_announcement_blue

XO, Isabel

D&E: What to expect when you’re no longer expecting

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This is my own personal experience, it may or may not be what you’re going to face or what you can expect. It may be difficult to read, please keep this in mind. I am writing this for those just discovering that they’ve had a second trimester pregnancy loss or anyone contemplating having a D&E procedure.

I minimized my great desire to Google search “D&E” or “Dilation and Evacuation” procedures. I knew the basics, it was all I needed to know. I strongly suggest you don’t Google further. You don’t want to know.

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I was given two choices with how to deal with our great loss. They were as follows:

  • – Dilation and Evacuation (D&E) procedure under general anesthesia
  • – Labor induction and delivery

I went with the first option. The second option was only barely whispered to me. I’m sure the pain in my eyes spoke loudly for me. I wanted to move forward. I wanted our Leo out of my body. It was not fair to either of us. The second option seemed incredibly painful for me to imagine. For me, laboring and delivering my dead son would be too much to bare. I want to remember him as he could have been and within the protection of my womb. Not as the tiny little being that he would have been in my hands. I wanted to preserve the sanctity of birth for myself in due time. This may not be what you would choose or would have chosen, but, it was right for me. For us.

Very quickly after we were diagnosed with Fetal Demise at 18 weeks, the attending Perinatologist (Dr. DM) made a call to my then-OBGYN Dr. J. He told her that they didn’t perform the D&E procedure in his office, I also assumed they didn’t perform it in the hospital that I had planned on delivering our son, either. Who knows, I was glad I didn’t have to see Dr. J’s face ever again. They referred me to a Dr. K. Late on Monday, August 12th, someone from her office called me to start preparing me for what to expect. They told me it would be a two-day procedure beginning on Tuesday and the D&E would happen on Wednesday. At the very end of our conversation, she told me that I had the option of having Leo cremated. It, too, was only a fleeting whisper, as she wasn’t sure I wanted to even talk about that. I’m SO very glad that she did, otherwise, nobody would have mentioned it to me at all. I just remember the words Neptune Society.

Tuesday:
Went in for my appointment, I filled out my medical history paperwork and the standard HIPPA notice. I was then given an Ibuprofen pill and a Valium. This was the first time I’ve ever been given Valium. Within about 15 minutes, I was lead-legged and dopey. Whoa. I think I barely listened to anything anyone said to me beyond that. I was then given an exam and had Laminaria sticks inserted into my cervix and was packed with gauze. These are sticks made of seaweed that gently dilate your cervix over several hours and prompt labor. The main purpose of this is to prep your cervix for the D&E procedure. I was given lots of prescriptions for pain medication, antibiotics and medicine to stop heavy bleeding (if needed) for the next day and days. I was given thorough warning on what to expect. I could expect cramping and pain as my cervix began to dilate. Thankfully, I really didn’t have any. I could expect for my breasts to engorge and produce milk in the days proceeding and was given instructions on how to prevent that.

I mostly rested the most of the day. Then, we went to our counseling appointment. It was perfect in timing as we prepared for the D&E the next day. We discussed the option of cremation. We hadn’t really thought about what would happen to Leo if we just left him at the hospital or lab (pathology). We discussed that he would more than likely be discarded as medical waste. I’m glad we had that frank discussion. It was then a no-brainer that we would have him cremated. I could not imagine him just being thrown away. We walked away feeling strong enough to face the next day.

Wednesday:
Thankfully, our procedure was moved up to 9:55 am instead of 1 pm. We walked into the hospital and registered with outpatient surgery. I gave my husband a list of items to do while we were at the hospital, including trying to get paperwork completed for my medical leave. I did this because I know my husband would be sitting in anxiety for well over an hour and I didn’t want to think of him as being in fear for me. I wanted to give him something to occupy his mind.

I was called back and my husband stayed with me the entire time. I had to change into a hospital gown. At first, they had given me a Bair Paws gown, but it proved to be quite itchy for my already-sensitive skin. I was wiling to suck it up, but the nurse offered a regular cloth gown so that I could be comfortable. My vitals were taken and they prepped me for an IV. They took more blood to be tested and then we waited for the doctor to arrive and be walked to the operating room. But, before I forgot, I told the nurse that we wanted our son’s remains to be cremated. And she said, “Oh, there was nothing in your chart. Let me go grab you the paperwork you need to sign.” So, she did, and I signed a document asking for him to be held and be released to a mortuary. This is VERY important if you wish to have your child cremated. ASK! It appears they don’t volunteer this information.

Dr. K was waiting for me, as well as a nurse and the Anesthesiologist. Dr. K is a chipper little thing. I also told her that we wanted Leo cremated, and she told me she was glad I said something, because she didn’t know. She then talked to me some more about my PCOS and got to know me a little bit, even though she had barely met me the day before. She goes on to tell me that she was delivered by Dr. Michael Leventhal, made famous by the discovery of what was at first called Stein-Leventhal Syndrome, later PCOS, later Metabolic Syndrome. I found this fact fascinating and I stopped to think about it for a small little moment before I felt quite heavy with sleep and then I was OUT.

I woke up while being wheeled out to the recovery room. I was having a coughing fit. Someone, I can’t remember, comforted me and told me that the cough was normal and that I’d be okay. I was in some pain, with cramping. I was told this was normal, for they had started giving me Pitocin to help the muscles of the uterus contract and reduce bleeding. Very shortly afterward, Dr. K. came back holding Leo in a container. She told me “I have him.” She went out to speak to my husband while I recovered and eventually was wheeled into my own private recovery room while they continued to administer fluids and Pitocin. My husband was brought into the room to sit with me. I couldn’t be MORE comforted by his presence. The rest is just standard recovery stuff after your procedure. You will have bleeding. You will feel icky. You will feel a little sore. Your throat will hurt. You will be hungry. Most of all, you will feel sad. You will feel empty, as no longer having your 18 week old baby within you will feel like a void. Where your bump once was, it will be drastically reduced in that moment.

It was finally time to be released. My husband went down one last time to try and get my medical leave paperwork signed. And, thankfully, our Perinatologist, Dr. EM was around to personally speak to my husband. He talked to him and gave him a hug. He said that he knew we had lost our son, but he had no idea that the procedure was on this very day. He asked where I was and then he was off after signing the paperwork. I was then sitting waiting for my husband to send me a text that he was downstairs waiting so that I could be wheeled out. Instead, the door flung open and it was Dr. EM! I started to cry the moment I saw him. He sat down with me and talked to me about how sorry he was for my loss. That we would figure this out and we are almost there with “tuning up” my body. That he’s confident that we can do this again and I can have the family I so desire. He gave me a hug. He told me physically the recovery will not take as long as my emotional recovery process. That perhaps I should let the word slip about our loss at work, so that people know. He told me that well-meaning people will say stupid things. WHAT? Naaah! 😉

He stood up and hugged me.

I was wheeled down to the car and my husband drove us home as we both cried.

XO, Isabel

Leo’s Story

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“Whoever survives a test, whatever it may be, must tell the story. That is his duty.”
― Elie Wiesel

I made a promise. I promised that I would find the words to share the story of what has happened to me. My husband. Our family. Our friends. What has happened has happened to us all. In varying degrees, surely. But, this story happened. This story is happening. This story will continue to be told so long as I continue to find the words to share it with you. This is how I will gather my strength. I will not hide behind a veil of privacy. I am choosing to not be silent about infertility. About miscarriage. About perinatal loss. I will not stay silent. There are so many faces and I will show mine with bravery.

Here’s Leo’s story:

Leo was my 5th pregnancy. He was very much desired. Very much loved. I was feeling a bit under the weather in early May and on a whim, decided to take a pregnancy test since my cycle was a bit late. I just felt off. Something was up. I bought a test at the Walgreens adjacent to my office building. I remember one of my coworkers being in the store and I didn’t want to be caught in the pregnancy test & family planning section of the store, so I made a circle around the aisle to avoid being seen. I was able to make my purchase and dash out of the store unnoticed. My first stop was to my desk where I discreetly opened the pregnancy test package and slipped one into my pocket and off to the bathroom I went. I took the test and almost immediately I saw two lines. If you have EVER experienced infertility, you will know that time and time again, you only expect ONE thing and that’s a BFN (Big Fat Negative). I saw those two lines and my jaw dropped in disbelief. How can this be? I got pregnant without any medical intervention? I remember my hands shaking and I nervously tried to sort out what to do. I start trying to reach my husband, I  believe text messages and Skype messages went along the lines of “OMFG. Oh $h!t! I’m pregnant!”

I immediately planted myself in a conference room with a telephone and my laptop and started calling around looking for a perinatologist and an OB/GYN, since I didn’t have one in the area in which we now lived. I certainly have never been to an OB, as I always avoided them to preserve my own sanity. I knew I was in trouble. I am a diabetic. I wasn’t on any medications, as I was foolishly trying to heal my own body with good food and I wanted to do it without medication. I was drinking green smoothies and cut out most all meat and animal products, I was feeling great! However, I knew I had to get on another plan. I had to get in to see a doctor immediately. I needed to be on insulin, and fast. The first week are the most critical in the development of a baby, and I know this. And I can blame myself all I want here. I can say that I had no clue that I’d ever spontaneously get pregnant the way we’re “supposed” to, because it just never happened to me. I was terrified. Perinatologist offices told me that they didn’t see patients without a referral from an OB, so I called a bunch of offices and missed out on one because of my due date being in January. And, so I took the first appointment with an OB that could see me the very next day on Friday, May 10, 2013.

My appointment was late in the afternoon and I was anxious to get the desperate help I needed. I feared judgment and criticism for foolishly being unmedicated. Because, on top of being diabetic, I have some issues with hypertension. It’s all part of an incredibly awful condition called PCOS, or more commonly now, Metabolic Syndrome. It’s a trifecta of awfulness. Being the Internet user that I am, I of course Yelped our soon-to-be OB and he had mixed reviews. We’ll call him Dr. J. He met with me along with his nurse, whom I will call Lolly (more on her later). I went ahead, despite the mixed reviews, because I needed someone NOW. And I figured if I wasn’t satisfied, I could switch out to a new doctor later. He saw me, did an exam, did a quick ultrasound, but it was too soon to see much. He took my blood pressure and checked my heart. His next move was to send me to the ER. It was late on Friday and he was not comfortable leaving me unmedicated and the fastest way to get test results and get me medication would be a trip to the ER. So, there we were, nervous and waiting. I was given insulin. I was given IV medication for high blood pressure. I was given lots and lots of fluid, because apparently I was pretty severely dehydrated. By that very next Monday, I was building a team of medical professionals that would help me along, including a great RN in the Diabetes & Pregnancy management program as well as a perinatologist and a cardiologist. I was feeling confident I had built a GREAT team to help me through this.

Because of my fertility history and recurrent pregnancy loss (RPL), I was beyond terrified. I was certain that I would miscarry at any moment just like every other time. I had never gotten as far to even see a small little embryo, yet alone the beating of a heart. I became a model patient. I was compliant with EVERYTHING. I changed to a very restrictive diet. I had become insulin dependent. I took my blood pressure medication religiously, only for it to cause terrible side effects. I did everything I could. The weeks passed and we were so far moving along as smoothly as possible. We saw growth in ultrasounds. We saw an embryo. We saw the flicker of a heartbeat. We heard a heartbeat. Each visit we grew more and more hopeful. I made it to 8 weeks. Then at around 10 weeks or so, we began our integrated testing to check for abnormalities, such as Trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome) and Trisomy 18. We had a Nuchal Translucency (NT scan) test performed, and when we received those results we were relieved to learn that we were screen negative with a 99.8% chance that our child did not have T21.

We made it to 13 weeks. We made it to the second trimester! Of course everything would be fine. It was FINALLY my time! Everyone told me so. Everyone hoped for me. We all believed. We started to believe it, we started to make plans. We started thinking of names. We started to get anxious to find out the sex of our child. My sister started talking about baby shower dates. I started poking around baby sites to look at baby gear. We made it to 14 weeks, and 15 weeks … and then to 16 weeks, 5 days. On this day, it was a Wednesday, we couldn’t wait any longer we were bubbling with excitement, that we paid for an elective ultrasound and to our delight, we were told we were having a BOY! Our little Leo. We were excited to share with our families and friends, that all special planning for unique and creative ways to announce this news flew out the window and we spent time on the telephone calling our parents from the car in the parking lot. Excitement all around.

On this very day, 16 weeks, 5 days, I went for the final part of our integrated testing. Not worried one little bit. In retrospect, when they did the ultrasound, I noticed that he was measuring about a week behind. Up until then, he had been measuring right on target. I just thought it was because it was a different ultrasound machine. First time there. I don’t know what, I just didn’t think much of it.

Then, it’s Thursday, August 8. Late in the afternoon, I get a phone call from our genetic counselor. I’m at the DMV and ask if he could call me back in 10 minutes. But, he has bad news for me. He tells me so in the very short time we did speak. I nervously awaited his return call in my car. I was already crying and trying to pull myself together to have a conversation with someone that is more than likely going to deliver some very difficult news.

He calls back after 17 minutes. He tells me he’s going to give me some numbers that are going to sound scary. My levels came back as screen positive for Down Syndrome (Trisomy 21). He explained that just because we were screen positive, it did not mean that he definitely has T21, but that we had a greater than 1 in 3 chance. He mentioned that the main reason was because my Inhibin-A level was very elevated. Where the expected range should be less than 2, mine was at 5.8. He went on to explain that elevated Inhibin-A levels also can be indicative of a placental problem that is associated with Intra Uterine Growth Restriction (IUGR), pre-eclampsia and pre-term labor. He went on to explain that an increased Inhibin-A level and its associated problems could cause increased blood pressure, of which I had just noticed that my medications weren’t working as they were before. He had a couple of options for us; We could come in on Friday or Monday. Since my birthday was on Saturday, I wanted to at least try and enjoy my weekend without more worry. So, we opted for a Monday appointment.

On Monday, August 12, 2013 we meet with the genetic counselor and she starts to explain the results and how they follow certain patterns. That although we sort of matched some of the typical patterns for T21, they also weren’t typical, especially the very elevated Inhibin-A level. We had a few options, including proceeding with a level II ultrasound, a blood test (Harmony) and/or amniocentesis. We opted for the Harmony blood test, rather than amnio, as we didn’t want to risk the life of our baby. We are then sent out to the waiting room and wait to be called back for our ultrasound. To be honest, I was sort of looking forward to see Leo again. I always enjoyed watching him move around and I was curious to see how much he had grown and to also reconfirm that it was a boy!

Sadly, I knew there was something terribly wrong the moment they began the ultrasound. There was no movement at all. I couldn’t see a heartbeat. I couldn’t see him move. He was just laying there still. I was holding my breath. I asked “is there no cardiac activity?” She says, “just a moment. when was the last time you saw your doctor?”

I started to cry. She turned on the audio and there was just silence. No heart to be heard. And I can’t shake the image of his little still body just lying there. She excuses herself and a few moments later the genetic counselor and Perinatologist (Dr. DM, who happens to be the wife of my Perinatologist, Dr. EM) come in to tell me that they want to take a second look. After they did, they just all said they were so sorry. The doctor in the room tells me that she will tell her husband the news, that she knows I am his patient. That she’ll call my OB (Dr. J) to ask what our next steps should be. The genetic counselor calls the State of California to discuss whether or not we should proceed with an Amnio anyway, but they all decided that it would be a moot point. Dr. DM comes back to tell me that Dr. J told her that they don’t handle 2nd trimester D&E procedures in their office or hospital and that I would need to be seen by someone else. I was referred to a Dr. K and they got me in the next day to start the two-day procedure. I’ll explain this process in another post.

My son left my body on Wednesday, August 15, 2013. May he forever rest in peace. And may I know that I did everything I could to keep him safe. To keep him with me and I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t. I can’t take back what happened. It just did.

We love you, Leo. You were wanted. You were dreamt of. You will always be a part of us. Forever and ever.

XO, Mom