Our Story (2)- Silence on the Doppler

It was Tuesday, April 24, 2012. I was 37 weeks and 6 days pregnant with our little boy.

Upon waking that morning as Waylon got ready for work, I realized that I had not felt any movements from Wyatt yet, and he moved CONSTANTLY. I took the usual measures to get the baby moving when in doubt: laid on my back, gently probed my belly, stood up, walked around, drank a glass of OJ, laid back down. Nothing. I did all of the above without showing any concern to Waylon; after all, this was my second pregnancy and the doctor had already informed me that the movements were likely to decrease because he was so big and low. Finally, after an hour of trying to get my baby to move, he did! He wiggled and and even got the hiccups. There was no mistaking that he was okay, at least at that moment in time. My worries dissolved and I continued on with my day as usual. I had an appointment scheduled for 4:20 that very afternoon, and was eager to learn of my body's progress in anticipation of our little boy's arrival. I was certain that he was ready to make his debut fairly soon, maybe even that day.

I keep thinking, "I should have known." The worst thought is wondering, "Did I know and simply ignore my instincts?"

On the drive to the doctor's office that day I began to feel uneasy again, after realizing that I couldn't remember the last time that I had felt him move that day. I pushed on my belly and said a quick prayer. I was nervous, but figured after I heard his heartbeat all of my crazy anxiety would disappear. After all, there were tons of explanations for the lack of movement, and I was already in the "safety zone." It was easy going from that point...so I thought. I arrived at the doctor's office, and handed Lyla off to Waylon to stay in the downstairs lobby (children were not permitted in the main office). I remember Waylon smiling at me as I began to climb the stairs and saying something about being induced- He was excited. I was scared.

I did all of the usual appointment protocol: urine sample- perfect, weight- eh, sitting in exam room awaiting the doctor- anxious. I began to read a book that I had in my purse to brush aside any fears. The office must have been busy that day, because the doctor beat the nurse into the room; my blood pressure was never even checked. The small talk started, "So, how are ya? Ready to get this over with? Any issues?" I wanted to scream YES, but I calmly replied, as my voice cracked from fear, "He hasn't been moving as much." I explained to her my morning venture of getting him to move and she smiled, grabbed the fetal doppler, and said, "Okay, let's see what this little guy is up to." I swallowed hard and lifted my dress to reveal my very pregnant belly.

She pressed the doppler against my left side. Silence. I couldn't breathe. She patted my hand and moved the doppler to my right side (my actions must have told the story of my fears). Silence. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't speak. There was the whooshing sound of the amniotic fluids, but no thunderous beating of my little man's heart.  I knew.

The doctor left the room in a rush, leaving the door completely open, mumbling something about an ultrasound on her way out. I was alone. Even my baby was gone. I laid there, shaking uncontrollably, with my hands on my head and my dress still raised. I hadn't sent them to get Waylon at that point; I was still hoping for a miracle. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe something WAS wrong, but we could fix it- we were at a hospital.

The sonogram machine was wheeled in by the doctor; a nurse joined. No one bothered to shut the door. The probe was immediately placed on my shivering belly as the tears rolled down my cheeks and pooled on the pillow. I kept my focus on the doctor's face and refused to look at the screen. I noticed tears starting to form in the eyes of my doctor. I began to scream, "Is he okay?" She silently shook her head, told me to take a deep breath, and that she was going to get another doctor to take a look.

My screams filled the room, the entire office. Much of what I was saying more than likely couldn't be deciphered through my cries. I begged them to cut me open and right then and there and save my precious baby.  I wanted my husband. I needed him. However, I didn't want our daughter subjected to the same hell that we were being forced to enter.

Waylon entered the room shortly after my asking a nurse to go get him from the lobby. Lyla was kept entertained by the nurses at the front desk. I will never forget the look in my husband's eyes as when he saw me. It was pure torture. He stood beside me, holding onto me, and couldn't say anything. He knew.

The two doctors continued with the ultrasound. I saw the sorrow and horror on everyone's faces as they watched the screen intently. All the while, my screams for him to be saved continued on, to no avail. My doctor placed her hand on mine, after what seemed like an eternity and softly said, as her voice cracked and tears ran down her cheeks, "There is no cardiac activity."

I screamed. No, it was more like a wail. I continued to beg them to cut me open. Why was no one trying to save my baby? I was in a hospital, damn it!

The doctors and nurse cleared out. I made my way from the table to a stool. I felt the weight of my unborn, lifeless baby as I walked. I felt my world crashing down, and my lunch coming up.

Our baby, our sweet precious baby, whom I'd been carrying for 3/4 of a year and had been waiting to see and hold was finally about to arrive. But he would be lifeless. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

I then began to say words that I now regret. I stated that I couldn't and wouldn't labor and deliver a dead baby. I was distraught, to say the least. I'm very glad that I was able to give at least that, the natural way of entering this world, to my son. After all, I was still his mother, and it was my job. Although getting him here safely was the ultimate goal, I had failed that portion of the test. My doctor explained that a C-Section was out of the question and tried the reasoning of, "You don't want that scar to remind you everyday." Yes I did. Thank goodness for stretch marks, because I want every piece of evidence that I can to prove that my sweet boy was real.

We were given the option to go home and come back the next day to start the induction process or to go over immediately. Was she serious? She was giving us the choice to go home and pretend like everything was okay, and that I was still glowing and carrying our healthy baby? I was horrified at the thought. We decided to check-in and start the induction to deliver our stillborn son.

Life was no longer good.