On the afternoon of Monday April 17, 2017 I realized Naomi wasn't moving.
At first I thought she was asleep.
Then after failed attempts to get her moving I called the doctor.
Craig came home and went in with me.
I thought it was all in my head and we'd be laughing it off soon enough.
The doctor put the doppler on my belly and there was nothing.
At this point in pregnancy you should hear the heartbeat immediately.
She threw the doppler down and grabbed for the ultrasound machine.
She frantically started searching for the heartbeat.
It was the slowest and quickest 2 minutes of my life.
"There's nothing. I'm trying so hard to find something. There isn't anything."
I just looked at her unable to find any words.
It was like I was watching the whole scene from the top of the room.
Her words echo through my mind on a daily basis.
Our baby was gone.
Three days before we heard her strong 140 beats per minute and now she was gone.
How could this be happening?
It was less than an hour from the time I called to the doctor until we found out we lost her.
The doctor asked if we wanted a moment alone.
"What do we do?" were the only words I could get out.
She sat down and her first words were exactly what I needed,
"This is not your fault. There is nothing you could have done differently."
They needed to induce me.
I was going to have to deliver the baby.
She recommended I get an epidural this time around.
I agreed.
We could walk to the hospital right then or come back in the morning.
It was all too much.
Craig asked her what she recommended and we decided to come back in the morning.
So we walked out of the office and headed home.
There was still shock, but the tears started to come.
We didn't tell the boys that night.
As I tried to fall asleep I knew I needed to write out whatever I could.
This is what I got out:
4/17/17 was a life altering day. We went into it thinking we could meet our baby. By late afternoon we found out we will never meet her this side of heaven. Her heartbeat is gone. We have no answers. Right now we have tears and shock. In a few hours we'll drive back to the hospital to deliver our baby girl. When she comes out there will be silence. No first breath, no cry. We will get to hold her and take photos, but at the end of the day we come home without our baby. We will be ok. We will not let this pull our family apart. We will cling to each other and to Jesus. We will trust that He is good all the time - even in the midst of pain and suffering.
We slept 3 or 4 hours that night.
Our alarm went off around 6 the next morning.
I showered and called the hospital at 7:00 am.
They were on schedule and ready for us to come in.
A few minutes after 8:00 am we parked at BCH.
We grabbed some of our stuff out of the back of the car.
I had to dig through the fully packed diaper bag for a couple of blankets.
We didn't need the outfits, diapers, or pacifiers that I had packed and ready for weeks.
We made our way to the birth center.
We got to the check-in desk and were ushered straight back.
They didn't ask for my ID.
Our faces must have confirmed we were the couple with the stillborn baby.
We walked by the room where I delivered Sammy.
Then Brady.
Then the room where we were taken when I was bleeding at 19 weeks with Sammy.
I realized what was happening.
They put us in the far back corner.
Our nurse came in.
She was gentle, kind, and full of empathy.
They were going to do whatever we wanted.
We signed some papers and I got dressed.
The IV went in.
Fluids and the pit drip started.
The epidural went in.
As soon as I was comfortable they increased the pit drip.
We were hoping it would go quickly.
The first time the doctor checked me I had barely progressed from 3 days before.
I was discouraged.
After a while I started to feel contractions in my back.
They gave me some stronger drugs and re-positioned me.
My blood pressure dropped and my speech started to slur.
Craig and I were both afraid.
When you are already in the midst of something horrible every little thing puts you on edge.
They gave me two different drugs to help with the blood pressure.
They kept pumping the fluids.
My body was swelling.
At that point they sat me up and my blood pressure finally started to rise.
We were relieved.
Once everything leveled out they kicked the pit drip up pretty high.
My body started to shake.
I got sick to my stomach.
I vomited for the first time in all three of my labors.
Then everything calmed down.
The cycle repeated.
The doctor checked me again and I had gone from 5 cm to 8 cm.
Transition with and without an epidural are REALLY different experiences.
We were getting close.
They left us alone and instructed us to call when I started to feel pressure down low.
The pressure kicked in and we called for the nurse.
She called for the doctor.
It was time to meet our baby.
Everyone came into the room.
I was checked one last time and they said I could start pushing.
I didn't have to push long.
By the final push the doctor was in tears.
She apologized.
I didn't care.
It was honoring to us and Naomi.
The time of delivery was 5:00 pm.
They worked quickly to hand her over to us.
I held her just like I did the boys.
There were five adults in the room and one baby.
All five adults were crying.
The baby was silent.
I delivered the placenta pretty quickly.
My bleeding was under control.
For the first time I didn't need any stitches.
We had prayed for a smooth delivery and that's what we got.
The doctor had asked us if we wanted to know if she could see any sign of what happened.
We said yes.
It appeared that the cord had hemorrhaged close to where it was connected to Naomi's belly.
Most likely that is the most we will ever find out.
We held her.
We kissed her.
We examined her little body.
She was a feminine version of her brothers.
She had dark curly hair.
Her feet were perfect.
She was perfect.
We announced her name for the first time.
Naomi Grace Montgomery
After a while we had them do all the newborn things.
Weight: 7 pounds 4.8 ounces
Length: 20.5 inches
Head Circumference: 14 inches
All four grandparents were able to meet her and hold her.
Craig's brother was able to meet her.
A birth photographer came and took photos for us.
We will always cherish them.
We kept her in the room with us all night.
The next morning I woke up still hoping it was all a nightmare.
She was still laying there perfectly swaddled and holding her little monkey.
It was real.
We had the curtains pulled back because I liked the sunshine.
A reflection from the windows kept hitting the bassinet.
Every time I saw it I thought it was an arm raising or a leg kicking.
I would look over and remember she was not alive.
We met with our nurse, midwife, lactation consultant, and doctor.
I showered and got dressed.
We packed up and it was time to say good-bye.
Obviously we took some selfies with her.
We kissed her for the last time.
Then we walked out the door.
Craig went to get the car and I sat on a bench in front of the hospital.
I had all of our bags next to us.
I felt invisible.
All these people were coming and going.
Did anyone know I had just delivered a baby that would never go home with us?
Did anyone know my heart was broken into a million pieces?
Craig pulled up.
He loaded our stuff into the car.
We drove away from the hospital and we cried.
