One of the most wonderful days of my life was September 18, 2001. On that day I gave birth to my first daughter.
My pregnancy had been normal. No reasons for alarm. I was a healthy 25 year old. DH & I were on a rocky slope, but when I told him I was pg, things started to look better for us. Our ultra sound was wonderful! Our sweet little bean was active and healthy and everything else was in its rightful place.
I had an appointment on the 17th. Hearrate was normal and movements were fine.
That night I got horribly mad at one of DH's "friends" (longer story but the guy was a total flake who DH was trying to start a business with). The following morning, I woke up and went about my day. I went to take my glucose test and during that time I started feeling horribly nauseous. I chalked it up to that lovely orange soda.
When I got back to work, I was still feeling kind of weird. My stomach was rock hard, but there was no pain. I went to the restroom and noticed that part of my plug had passed. I was just a few days past 26 weeks, so this was not a good sign. I decided it was time to go to the hospital.
I called DH and met him there. The nurse on call checked the baby's hearrate and said everything was fine. She was just about to send me home when the doctor ordered a non stress test. They had me hooked to the monitors for about 6 minutes. Just long enough to see that my contractions were 2 minutes apart.
I was wheeled to labor and delivery where they checked and found that I was 5 cm dialated. They did everything they could to stop labor. They gave the steroid shots for lung development, and at 9:18p.m. after 7 long hours of "non-labor", our little girl was born.
She let out one heartwrenching cry and was immediately hooked to every machine the hospital had! She was wheeled directly to the NICU. DH & I spent all of our time in the room with her and tried our hardest to stay optimistic.
Initially the outlook was great. Minimal brain bleeding, she was doing good breathing with the machine. Things started to slowly go downhill. First they found more bleeding, then she had to have a chest tube, then another tube, and then blood transfusions, and finally an aspirin to get the PDA valve to close in her little heart. The aspirin caused her intestines to rupture, and it was the straw that broke our backs.
What kind of life would she have? The brain damage from the bleeding would make her breathing vegetable. The rupture required surgery. Her eyes were still fused shut.
After thinking about it for some time, DH & I decided that the best option would be to allow her to pass peacefully and not have to endure any more of the pain that we were putting her through trying to save the little bit of a life that she would have.
So on September 27, 2001 we said good bye to our little girl. She lived for 3 hours off of the life support and died in our arms, gasping for breath. It was the first and last time I got to hold her in my arms.
Rayvn Nicole 9/18/2001 - 9/27/2001 Our Early Bird
She now watches over my shoulder in the form of a tatoo. Baby Rayvn is always with me.