Update on Baby #4

Its been awhile, I know. Life has that way of getting busy and getting in the way of the things we do for ourselves, doesn't it? I know its a poor excuse but sometimes, you just can't find the words to explain.

Anyway, last you heard, I announced we are expecting another son this Fall. September 3rd is his actual due date but he will be arriving earlier than that (more on that later). I am still nervously excited about adding to our family again. This pregnancy has been easier in some ways and harder in
a lot of others than the previous 3. Baby B has been easier on his mama hormonally in a lot of ways than the other boys were in that I am not spontaneously bursting into tears every time a sappy commercial comes on and I'm not trying to chew every one elses head off the rest of the time. I'd say the people that love me are quite happy about that.

The weather has also mostly cooperated this year. Knock on wood. We have had our share of nasty hotness but nothing that has really been do or die. Of course it is really just now time for the heat to start ramping up to that point so I hope I didn't jinx myself. I guess I tend to blame the fact that this is my 3rd September baby too. Maybe I am just jaded to the constant sweating and hiding indoors part of it all. We tend to spend a lot of time in the water too though. We have season passes to the local water park and frequent the local rec pool to stay cool.

In a lot of ways this pregnancy has also been my hardest too. Physically, I am more exhausted this go around. You can blame me being older or him being the 4th or whatever you like, I blame not ever sleeping. For serious, I never sleep. I have given up on the laying in the bed making myself miserable by tossing and turning, opting instead to use those overnight hours to catch up on TV or laundry. The worst part is getting lonely overnight. Michael works most nights, so I do spend as much time talking with him over the phone as I can but he stays pretty busy.

28 Weeks

Besides the not sleeping, I have had more "issues" this go around too. It started with a kidney infection early this year, which has now turned into kidney stones. My placenta is lying quite low too. Not quite enough for them to officially classify it as previa yet but they are watching it closely an I am praying it moves up and up.

The exciting part is the measurements though. Baby B has measured big since the very first appointment. He was one week big at 8 weeks and then 2 weeks big at 20 weeks and then 3 weeks big by 28 weeks (See picture). Then, last week when my midwife measured my uterus, it was a whopping 38 weeks and I was only 31. So, 7 weeks ahead. Not cool dude. They went ahead and scheduled an in-depth ultrasound at my next appointment to check the fluid and his size again and all that. The thing is, ultrasound measurements can be off by so much, so I'm not really sure what to expect. Will he be big? Probably. Will he be normal sized and my belly is just extra big because there was only 9 months between him and his brother? Possibly. The not knowing is the worst.

Emotionally, this pregnancy has been difficult as well. For both me and Michael. After losing Gage so suddenly and so dramatically after a perfect pregnancy, its so hard to connect this time. Even though I feel him tumbling around in there and we see him on the ultrasound doing normal baby type things, there is this void. A horrible disconnect. Like its not real. Doing things to get ready for him has been hard. I get panicky every once in awhile at all we have to do before his arrival, especially considering his size and the possibility he could come even earlier than expected, but we just can't.

I can't go through the clothes we bought for Gage and not think of the baby that never got to wear them but replacing every thing we have isn't exactly cost effective either. I can't set up a space for him without wondering if its all in vain. Seeing other blushing, excited pregnant women is like torture. I want to scream at them that sometimes it doesn't matter which brand diapers you pick. Sometimes the unfathomable happens anyway. Of course, being big in the belly department, I get constant questions and congrats from people. I try to take it with grace and style. I try to humor their questions and comments. Thing is, I can't tell people I'm excited to be expecting again when I'm terrified. So often I end up bawling in the car or bathrooms at peoples comments but I can't exactly be mad at them, can I?

The boys are excited though. Well, K is. D is much more cautious this time. I don't know if its because he is feeding off our emotions or if he remembers too well. He mostly just rubs my belly and says he hopes he gets to hold him this time. K is much more involved. I think he is just now really old enough to really grasp the fact there is a baby in there. He enjoys talking to him and playing poke back with him through my skin. He tells him he loves him and tells people all about how hes gonna have a baby brother this time if he doesn't die. All about the brutal honesty, that one.

Really, all we can do is hope and pray for our littlest man. I have to believe that everything is going to work out this time or I'll go insane. We have been working with the midwives and perinatologist to create a plan for his birth and are trying to get as many stop gaps in place to prevent the events of last time from happening again. In case you missed the story, his birth was fast and furious. He didn't get the fluid squeezed from his lungs resulting in pulmonary hypertension. Because of that, they didn't get him the antibiotics for group b like they were supposed to and it took him. Quickly.

This time, I will be induced, probably around 39 weeks, so that we can have more control. We can work on slowing down his trip out and get the antibiotics out of the way before anything is started. It means I will have that classic, heavily monitored, laying on in the bed birth that so many women go to so many lengths to avoid, but I am more than okay with that. At this point, I'd even consider a c section if I knew it meant I'd get to bring him home safely. All I want is a son for Michael to hold and a brother for my boys. Priorities.

Thats the long story of it right now. If you were looking for the condensed version, you are probably disappointed. Sorry. Now you know more than you probably wanted to. Its cathartic to get it all out there though and I know there are so many people who won't ask.

One Year: Gage Jason

My baby bear,

Every year I write a letter to my older boys on their birthday, telling them about the things that happened in their year and how much I love them and am proud of them. I guess this letter will be the only one for you and you're not even here. You'll never reat this. How could I not though? You're my son and I love you.

I only held you once while you lived. I held you close and I whispered to you. I told you I loved you and you were gonna be okay. You stopped squeaking and struggling like you were listening intently to what I said. I told you Mama and Daddy would be right there no matter what you needed. I kissed you square on the nose like I have all my boys and breathed in your smell. You smelled like heaven. It was so hard to let you go with the nurses but I thought they'd take care of you. I thought they'd make you better. I didn't know the next time I'd hold you close you'd have stopped breathing or I'd never have let you go.

I'm always thinking of you. What would you be like? Would you be a fireball like your daddy? Would you be quiet like me? What would you be doing? Saying? Would you still look like your Daddy?

Your big brothers talk about you a lot too. K is the matter of fact kid. He tells everyone he had a baby that died. He asks the pointed questions about what happened and why. He wants to know the facts about hospitals and funerals.

D is more soft. He wants to know what happens in Heaven. He wants to know why he didn't get to hold you and kiss you too. Hr wanted you so bad baby. He wants to know we'll get to keep "the next baby". It breaks my heart. I'll never forget him asking if Jesus took your car seat with him when he took you to Heaven.

D occasionally asks to go talk to your Jesus. There is a statue of Jesus standing a few feet from your new place. He asks it questions and asks him to take care of you. Not exactly prayer, he does that too, but more a physical representation of an idea I guess. Like some how he associates that statue with you more than your grave.

I do the best I can to explain everything as they ask. Sometimes its an easy answer. Sometimes I have to hold back the tears. For the most part the understand. Its a lesso. No kid should ever have to learn. They were so excited to meet you. So excited to hold you and teach you how to be a rambunctious little boy like them. The maturity and grace they have shown in the last year is astounding to me. They are amazing little men and I know you would have been too. We are lucky to have them.

I visit you every chance I get at your new place. It was once a week for about 8 months and then it got too cold. I got too busy. It made me sad but I still go see you often. Its peaceful to just sit and listen to the wind in the trees. Watch for the deer that wander through to eat the grass and flowers left by others missing their loved one. Its where I go when I need to center.

It's hard for your Daddy too. He doesn't wear his heart on the outside as much but he loved you and he needed you. He's been my rock. The last year has shown me what an amazing man he is. Even when his heart was shattered, he loved me and your brothers with his whole self.

Its been a long year for all of us but I won't say its been an all bad one either. Your brothers are growing up big and strong. Your Daddy and I were engaged and will be married soon. We had some fun vacations and experiences. They were just missing someone.

I miss you baby. I wish things were so different. I know they aren't and never will be the same. I know you are better off than us. I know you loved us and I'm pretty sure you knew we love you. Its hard though. I wouldn't say its gotten easier but its more like its gotten easier to hide. People don't ask how we are and we don't offer. I still cry a lot and I will never understand but then I am thankful to have known you. To be able to carry you in my heart.

I love you baby. Mama always will. Happy Birthday and Angel Day all in one.

ICYMI: Gage's Birth Story and Gage's Life Story.

Gage Jason: His Life (Part Two)

Part two of my little Gage's life. His life. If you are just tuning in, start here.

I waited in the quiet delivery room for a bit before a nurse came in and told me that they never got me registered and she had to get me put into the computers. She was very sweet and comforting to me saying they had a great NICU and she was sure that he woud be just fine.

They finally asked if they could bring me something to eat and for the first time, I realized I was starving. They went and grabbed me some breakfast and I was still picking at it when Michaels mom came in. I filled her in on everything I knew and told her Michael had gone with him and was supposed to report back to me as soon as he knew something.

About an hour later Michael came back and said he didnt look good. They were hooking him up to some machines, getting some iv lines in, etc, and they were supposed to call when they got him stable enough for us to come back.

The next hour was torture. They moved me into a recovery room and the nurses cames and went, bringing snacks and drinks and explaining paperwork. The lactation consultant came in and brought me a pump. Michael's father came in, my father came in. Each time, we had to tell them we still didnt know anything. I was trying so hard. So hard not to panic but every time we called the NICU number they were still woorking on him.

Finally we got a call that Michael and I could come see him. They needed to talk to us about his condition. The nurse brought us a wheelchair for me and we went to the NICU, scrubbed in, and went to Gage's side. I could tell from the first look things werent good. He was hooked up to a myriad of machines and there were 8 medical staff members standing around working or watching. I held his little foot in my hand while they explained what all of the machines were. The oscillator to help him breathe, chest tubes on both sides to try to drain the fluid out of his lungs, an iv and pic line in his belly button and a bunch of monitors to keep tabs on his stats. They were also doing an echocardiogram on him to check his heart. Whatever the cardiologist was looking for, she was having a hard time finding.

The perinatologist pulled us out in the hall after a while to explain more of the why and what. He had what was called pulmonary hypertension. His lungs were not expanding like they should. She showed us the xray of his lungs and explained how much bigger they should be than they were. She explained that the capilaries in his lungs had been damaged because he had not gotten the fluid squeezed out enough during the birth process.

Overall, She was hopeful. She told us that he would most likely be ttansported to Egelston (the childrens hospital) when he was stable enough and they had a machine that could help clear out and expand the capilaries. She explained that he was considered extremely critical but that it wasnt hopeless. They would do another xray in a bit and we would see if he had improved. She recommended we go see him for a few more minutes and then go back to the room for me to rest. So that we did.

We went back and shared the news with the family waiting. They started asking when they would be able to see him and we told them they were supposed to let us know when he could have more visitors.

So we waited. I posted to Facebook that he seemed to be doing better but to keep praying. I texted my mother and told her to come on to the hospital with D and K.

Then the phone rang. We spent a few minutes talking to the neonatalogist again and she said that his lungs were actually improving. She wanted to know if anyone in the house had been sick in the last few weeks. We told her no one and she said he appeared to have contracted some kind of infection but they were treati NH him with antibiotics to try to get on top of it.

She also said it was okay for the family to come down to see him. At that point there was a mass exodus. Everyone went to see him except me. I stayed and waited for my mother and best friend to come. I sat and waited but ached to be back to my baby. My friend Steph, who works at the hospital, came by to see me and check on me. It was such a relief to see a loving face.

When they came back, only Michael came into the room. The rest stayed outside and my heart immediately sank. The look on Michael's face is one I'll never forget.

"He isnt doing good at all." He said. "He's completely purple from the chest down. He has an infection and all the doctors will tell me is its not good. They are trying to figure out what kind and started him on more antibiotics."

We sat in silence for a few minutes letting it sink in. I wanted to go see him. So Michael wheeled me back to the NICU. My poor baby looked bad. He was still hooked up to all the machines and he was the most scary shade of mottled purple from the nipple line down to his toes.

We stood at his side crying, begging him to fight. Begging him to get better. "We need you Gage. Please."

Crying to God "please dont take our baby. Please heal him.".

We stayed for a long time. People rushing all around us pumping him full of antibiotics. Encouraging him. The neonatalogist came back in and kept saying she didnt understand where he got the infection. Transport to Egelston was no longer an option. It was up to Gage now. His chance of survival had dropped.

I had to go back to my room to be checked. In the hall leaving the NICU, we ran into my best friend, Lisa. I told her he wasnt doing well at all and she comforted me the best she could.

Everyone was back into the room and the boys arrived with my mother. Thats when the dam broke. All I could do was drop to my knees and hold them close while I sobbed. They both wrapped their little arms around me and hugged me back. My boys were my strength right then and somehow they knew it. They didn't say a word. They just stood there, faces buried in my neck and hugged me back.

Michael's sister and aunt came in asking what was happening. I tried to make a coherent answer but all I remember getting out was "I cant bury my baby" and then sobbing into my mothers shoulder.

Eventually I came back to reality. The room silent around me. The boys went and got a hug and kiss from Michael and we turned the tv on. Michael went out in the hall and cried, eventually wandering back in to sit.

When I settled down, I moved back down to the couch next to Michael when the phone rang. It was the neonatalogist. She said that they had done everything they could but his organs had begun shutting down from the infection and they were still waiting on the lab results to come back. I asked if this was something he was going to recover from and she replied that it didnt look good. I asked what his prognosis was now, days, weeks, what. She sobbed quietly and said "more like hours". We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Everyone was staring at me, waiting for an update. I uttered the words that no mother should ever have to say: "He's not going to make it".

Chaos ensued in that little room. Crying, questions, hugging. General disbelief. Someone took the boys to the hall to play and we cried harder. 

A few minutes later, the NICU called back and said we needed to come. He was declining and decisions needed to be made. We all rushed down to the NICU. All of us.

As we all got into his room, Michael and me went straight to him, kissed him and cried. At 7:30 pm, my Gage took his last breath, shuddered and was still.

What seemed like forever but was probably only seconds, a kind faced blond nurse made eye contact and simply said "He's gone. Im so sorry".

And then... I died. I died a horrible, painful mama death. One you cant put words to. I couldnt move. I couldnt breathe. All I could do was continue to stroke his tiny hand in my fingers and say "I love you." Over and over.

The sound that came out of Michael seemed like it came from another room. It wasnt until he folded down onto the warmer I even realized it was him. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

The room was full of our family. They were all struggling to understand what was going on and all we could do is sob. We were asked if the nurses should clear the room and I remember looking up at the faces of our parents and Michael's sister and aunt. There was no way I could send them away. Instead I asked that we could find some chairs and all hold him.

They unhooked my youngest son from the machines that were supposed to save him and swaddled him. They brought him to me and layed his sweet body in my arms. He was so warm and soft. I snuggled him close and kissed his nose again. I prayed and cried and kissed.

Then, Michael held his son for the first time and he did the same. Kissed, hugged, cried. If there is anything I could go back and do from his birth, it would be to let him hold his son before they took him to the NICU. His live son.

Everyone took turns holding him. No words to say we just cried and held each other. At that time we were all one family and I would not change that for the world.

One by one, the family went home. To their babies and homes. My father made the trek home to his fiancée. My mother went to get my boys to bed. My best friend kept at us until we agreed to have her sister, a Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer, come and take pictures of us and our little bear. Michael's mom and dad stayed with us and Gage and I'm so glad they got that time with us.

After the pictures and the snuggles, after midnight, the nurse came in and told us the funeral home would be there to collect him soon. We gave him a kiss and tucked him into his little bassinet and did the hardest thing we had ever done. We walked back to our hospital room with empty arms, knowing we would never hold our little bear, Gage Jason Hendrix, again. 

Gage Jason: His Birth Story

This is a story that is so very hard for me to tell so forgive me. On March 27th of this year, I gave birth to a baby boy at 8:01am. We named him Gage Jason. He was born at 40 weeks and 1 day. My little man lived only 11 hours. This is part one of his story I suppose. His birth story. 

I woke up at about 6:30 in the morning to some pretty intense contractions. Something in the back of my mind said "He's coming." but I was determined to not rush to the labor and delivery department this time and get sent home again. So, I got up and went to the bathroom. The contractions were getting sharper and fast. I got a message from Michael saying he was headed home and all I could muster in response was "good".

As he got home, I unlocked the front door and got into a warm bath. It seemed to help the pain a little but I could tell they were coming together in a more regular pattern. After a few minutes, I decided we needed to get moving to the hospital, got out of the bath and went to wake Michael up. I woke him, not very gently, and told him we needed to go. Now.

From there it was a whirlwind. He got up and got every thing in the car and woke up my mother to tell her we were leaving while I struggled to get dressed. It was kind of like it is in the movies with him running around doing everything while all I could do was try to breathe and moan. He ended up coming and helping me get pants and a t-shirt on and we made our way to the car after kissing D and K.

The ride to the hospital was not easy. It was rush hour so the normally 5 minute ride to the hospital took much longer. By the time we pulled into labor and delivery I wasn't sure how I was going to make it upstairs without having a baby in the elevator. Michael let me out at the door, made me promise to wait for him and parked the car.

We got to the desk at triage and I couldn't speak. I seem to remember someone asking if I was in labor and Michael saying "Does it look like it?" before they strapped an armband on me and sent me to yet another triage desk to wait for a nurse to check me in there.

We waited for a few minutes there before a med student came wandering up and asked some stupid questions like "are you sure this is real labor" before ushering us to a room and instructing me to strip and put on the gown.

I was in constant pain at this point. The contractions were hardly dipping before coming back at full speed. I was moaning and screaming trying to get the clothes back off that I couldn't even get on myself to begin with. I knew I was past transition and he was coming soon. Michael came into the bathroom and helped me get the clothes back off and the gown on before I told him he needed to go get me some help. 

"Go get the nurse and tell her I need help!".

He went out and told the nurse what I told him and she said "I can hear her. Tell her to give me a minute.". I've never wanted to smack someone so bad. Give me a minute indeed lady. I have a baby trying to burst his way out of me.

She did send the med student wandering back to try to get me on the monitors. She was still trying to coax me into the bed by telling me they had to monitor me for half an hour before they could admit me because my water had not broken yet (and that meant it probably wasn't true labor) when the nurse came swaggering in. I say swaggering because she was certainly not in any hurry to come help the screaming, laboring woman and the intimidated med student trying to tell her this might not be real labor. They did finally coax me into the bed and started strapping the monitors to me by telling me that if my contractions weren't stopping, it could mean something was wrong with the placenta. When I told her I was fine but he was coming they needed to get me a room, she finally stopped with freaking monitors and checked me.

10 centimeters and crowning.

Told you so.

She quickly sent the med student to call my midwife and get us a room number. I remember telling her I needed to get in some hot water and she said I wouldn't have time. I also remember thinking some very unkind things about the med student which it turns out I actually said out loud and made her cry. I was informed of that later.

Anyway, we were headed down the hall to room 306 when my water broke. I immediately felt better. Even though only a little water came out, it relieved just enough pressure to make things easier. When we finally got to the room, it was already buzzing with people. Talking and discussing me and my lady parts and progress and get her to the bed. The one that rings the loudest to me now was "call the pediatrician, make sure he knows we have one on the way".

As soon as they got me scooted over to the actual bed, my midwife came in. It was Kim. I was so glad to see her. She was the one we had seen the most and the one we both had fallen in love with. She got her gloves and gear on as quick as she could. She said "I see hair" as she slipped into her gloves and then I pushed. 25 minutes after we arrived at the hospital and 80 minutes after I woke up, Gage was born. According to Michael he came "flying out". All I know is it was a one push deal. That's the way to do it for sure.

They put him up on my chest and I immediately fell in love. He was pink and perfect with just a little brown hair. Noticeably smaller than my other two but it struck me how very much he looked like his daddy. And how he wasn't breathing well.

He was trying to breathe. He was squeaking and breathing a little but his color was not good. He was struggling. I kept repeating "c'mon baby Gage, breathe for me" and rubbing his back. After about a minute, Kim clamped his cord and the nurse tried to take off with him before the cord got cut. There was a rather tense exchange between her and the nurse before she let a very stunned looking Michael cut it and the nurse took him to the baby warmer.

Michael went to be by Gage's side while they worked on him and I just lay there and watched. I birthed the placenta (which was perfect) and made small talk with Kim while she stitched me a little. 

All I could focus on though was the little sounds coming from the warmer. He was so quiet. He was crying here and there but not enough. Not strong enough. The pediatrician came in. They were working hard to get him screaming but there was a rising tension and quiet between the nurses.

It was deafening.

When they got done with me, they brought in the isolator and I knew immediately what that meant. My little man was going to the NICU. I was trying to keep panic at bay but I've done the NICU thing before and it was all too vivid in my mind. 

They brought him to me all swaddled up to snuggle for a minute and he was still very blue and squeaking a pissed off little squeak. As soon as he heard my voice, he stopped squeaking. He seemed to calm down and relax a little while I talked to him but he still just couldn't breathe. I snuggled him, told him I loved him so very much and I would see him soon. I kissed his warm little nose and forehead. I said a quick prayer for God please make my baby okay.

And then they were gone. The whole room left in a wisp and I was alone.

(PART TWO HERE)