My Birth Story

This is going to take me a long time to get out. I’ve been dragging my feet on starting this journey of sharing my birth story. Birth stories are supposed to be encouraging, uplifting and fairytale-like with the happy ending of a newborn baby always wrapping it all up with a bow. Hard moments in birth stories are often overlooked because the baby is still the happy result and mamas are left behind in the momentum of bringing a new human into the world with just their newborn trauma and beat up body. Now what about if there isn’t a baby at the end to keep the happy result? All it is is a horror story to me and who would want to read that? I understand the boomers who suggest to young birth trauma mamas that they shouldn’t share their birth stories for the sake of not scaring other soon to be moms. Reason #48575 why I don’t like old people……(kiddinggggg. Sort of). I feel an obligation to share my birth story because so many amazing prayer warriors went up to bat for Kyle and I when all we did was share the superficial details of our horrible situation. I owe you more to the story that is makeing up my entire testimony and that’s a huge reason why I’m even being convicted to write these blog posts, because the Holy Spirit wants me to spread the good news through my life experiences somehow… *sigh**end rant*.

So where do I begin? How much detail is too much for the reader to want to continue? I’m a detailed story teller as is, it will take me a minute. Try to skim through if the details are too irrelevant or unnecessary. How does one execute the opening up of their entire raw broken heart through rehashing what it is that broke it? I guess we’ll learn together.

Wednesday, September 8th was spent with rampant nesting and deep cleaning around the house before putting the kids to bed and actually beginning to think about my 8pm induction. I was 37 weeks but due to a new diagnosis of Cholestasis as I was just getting over covid, I was scheduled to be induced to keep Alba safe from risk of complications or stillbirth.

Kyle pulled the ultimate dad move I’ve seen yet and overpacked a mini cooler of energy drinks and waters as I laughed from the front seat of our car ready to go. We shamelessly ran late and even stopped so Kyle couldn’t quickly pick up some celebratory cigars to have with our brothers post delivery. My midwife earlier in the day during my final NST test and ultrasound had informed me that the hospital was currently going through a baby boom and that I may find myself waiting once I arrived for my induction so we had no problem running late because sure enough we waited. And waited and waited. We spent the night in a tiny cubicle with a triage bed smashed in it for myself and a tiny wooden chair in the corner for Kyle to sit in. We heard another women being sent home for her scheduled induction because they were so busy and that she would receive a call when they had a bed. Kyle asked if we could do the same thing because we just wasted a night of child care and we also wouldn’t mind being in our own bed. We were told no due to my induction being a medical reason (Cholestasis) and that we should be soon. We waited a total of 13 hours before a nurse came in to take us to our room. 13 hours!!!! At this point, it’s Thursday morning and we were disheartened at the very slow start to this journey but more relieved to just finally be in a room and to begin. Kyle immediately took a nap, (he had been up all night in his wooden chair) and I took my first miso pill. Nothing happened, besides a good nap for myself so we went ahead and I took another pill a couple hours later. I also said yes to the foley bulb, big mistake. I had been told to skip the bulb by other veteran mamas but in the moment when I was told that it could shave hours off my laboring, I said yes. I already felt behind after our triage experience and I just went for it. They checked the foley every so often but my cervix was not budging until hours later when I was beginning to feel intense contractions. I still think that these contractions were by far the worst in the whole process. I was audibly in pain while Kyle attempted counter pressure on my back.

Kyle really was an amazing partner from the very beginning in this entire process. The healthcare providers could not get enough of how helpful and proactive he was when it came to changing me, helping me up or cheering me on. The man would even wipe me up and change my bedding, every.single.time. I the only time I called him out was when he wore his reaction on his face to seeing a speculum for the first time (I still laugh about it though).

1 hour of intense contractions and my midwife told me I probably had one more hour to go until that sucker would be out. I took my chances at the pain medication dose that lasts only 45min to 1 hour and it thankfully worked in my favor. 45 minutes later and those meds wore off quickly but the foley bulb popped out. It was time for pitocin. At this point, it’s late Thursday night on September 10th. My contractions went away when the foley bulb came out and I was able to get a nap in. However, my body finally caught up with what was going on once the pitocin hit and I spent the early hours of Friday morning going through some rough contractions. I finally asked for an epidural around 7am (shift change, my bad to the healthcare providers!, I had no clue what time it was.) Luckily, I didn’t feel a thing with my epidural and cared more about the blood pressure cuff and fetal monitoring I had on me the entire time. It was incredibly overstimulating to focus on not moving during a contraction, waiting to feel the epidural poke, a blood pressure cuff filling up to get a reading and making sure my NST straps on my belly didn’t move. I’m pretty sure I almost broke Kyle’s hand with his tungsten wedding band. Once everything was settled down, I took one of those glorious epidural naps but had to continue moving to my left and right side for the epidural as well as to calm Alba down as her heart rate would sink down randomly during contractions. We stopped pitocin for a little bit and went ahead with internal fetal monitoring (I don’t know official lingo) that wraps around the placenta but not directly on her, phew, the NST straps could go bye-bye. We weren’t concerned with her heart rate as when I changed positions, she was good to go. I was still only 3-4cm at this time. I spent all day Friday slowly building the pitocin dosage back up and going through deep pelvic pressure during my contractions but zero pain. The main struggle was randomly dealing with the most intense UTI like pain once they had placed my catheter. That pain was almost worse than any contraction as it felt like I had to pee so badly but couldn’t so the pain turned incredibly sharp. 2 hours passed and we think Alba finally just moved off my bladder because it went away. By 8pmish, I finally got the first feeling that I wanted to push. Because I was still able to move my legs on my own (but felt zero pain from contractions), I was allowed to do any position I desired. Hands and knees were great for me for a while but weirdly enough, on my back seemed to be the most productive for me. As each contraction came, I felt the pressure in my pelvis and looked forward to learning how to productively push. I caught on quickly and again, there was never any pain. Time stood still for me but was flying by as I got into the calm groove of laying on my side in between contractions and falling asleep or talking with the Holy Spirit to pushing with all my might as Kyle counted out loud with my leg in his arms. My doula was the real MVP who would take my leg and the back of my head with each arm and fold me up like a lawn chair as I focused on pushing! I had no idea how much time had passed but only felt motivation as my midwife offered for Kyle to watch Alba’s hair be seen as I pushed. It was exhilarating and I was filled with hope that her arrival was soon. But my baby was stubborn and as she would justtttt poke out, everytime I stopped pushing she would suck back deep inside me. I was shocked when my midwife told me that I had been pushing for 5 hours. Shocked. She offered me two options: Call in the OB and attempt a vacuum then c-section or go directly to c-section. She was very confident that a vacuum would work because Alba was so so close to being out but just needed some extra help. I was disheartened and felt guilty that I needed the help. I asked if I could continue pushing because I felt great. My uterus was shot but I felt motivated and that I could keep going another 5 hours if needed. Kyle did amazing at helping me feel better. He really was so proud of me and we both decided that a vacuum would be our best option. I continued to push as we waited for the doctor to arrive but as she came in, more healthcare providers came in as well. I felt uneasy but knew that once the OB was involved, there are residents etc. and I didn’t mind, but my entire experience so far had only involved a nurse and a midwife. The doctor went through 3 attempts of the vacuum, to no avail. She confirmed that I was pushing productively and Alba was even crowning with a third of her head out but as soon as I stopped, she would go way back inside me. It was the most bizarre thing. What they don’t tell you is how aggressive a vacuum can be and I felt so uneasy as I felt the pull as I focused on the pushing. I was half relieved that we were done with the vacuum and half so sad to be headed into a c-section. Kyle calmed me down as I realized how fast this process goes once it’s confirmed that we need an emergency c-section. The entire room moved around me and I was immediately being hauled down to the OR in my bed. They sat Kyle down outside to prep me and that’s when my fear completely kicked in. Anesthesia was working on numbing me more as we made it to the OR and everyone was shocked that I could scoot onto the OR table on my own but not feel a thing. As I lay down on my back, I had this intense feeling that I was not going to be ok. I began to uncontrollably shake and I spoke aloud, “I’m really scared.” The last thing I heard was for someone to grab Kyle but I dipped into a half sleep. It didn’t last long as I was in and out of consciousness the entire time. I could hear everything but I couldn’t respond or move. I felt nauseous and puked to my right as I knew Kyle was holding my hand to my left. I struggled to breathe as it felt like the biggest weight was on my chest. C-sections are not fun. I later learned that Alba was so deep down in my birth canal that once they opened me up it wasn’t an easy pull out. She had to come out “reverse breech” which means they pulled her out feet first. In order to even do this though, the doctor had to push Alba back up into my stomach by shoving her own hand in my vagina and physically pushing Alba back up. I felt my whole body move as they pushed her up. I finally heard the doctor say that the baby was about to come out so I focused hard on staying conscious enough to hear a cry. But no cry came. Silence filled the room and then urgency ensued as I felt the mood in the room shift. I continued to try to focus on what I was hearing but kept coming in and out of it. I still felt nauseous and would randomly throw up. I began uncontrollably shaking again as every part of me was out of control. I felt helpless. I could feel Kyle squeezing my hand and asking our midwife questions with panic in his voice. I immediately knew in my heart, the next chapter of my life was beginning and it was going to be full of crushing. Yet, I still felt hope. She would be ok. I had despair more for knowing what Kyle was experiencing alone in that OR room. Holding onto the hand of his barely conscious wife who was either puking or shaking on the OR table with her organs laid out on top of her and then his newborn baby coming into this world without a cry to quickly receiving chest compressions with a plethora of providers surrounding her. I was right there yet I couldn’t squeeze his hand back to comfort him. Alba received compressions for 20 minutes before being able to be moved up to the NICU. Kyle felt torn between leaving with Alba or staying with me in the OR. I couldn’t sway him because I couldn’t talk but he decided to go with Alba. I heard him tearfully tell me he loved me and asked if I would be ok. He told me he would be back soon and he left along with my Alba and her group of providers. It was finally then that I allowed myself to cave in to the sleep.

I woke back up, (or maybe just became more conscious of where I was at) in a small recovery cubby surrounded by curtains. Strangely enough, Kyle was just entering my cubby and I worked hard to focus on being able to talk or at least focus. I still couldn’t move. He was distraught and I knew that he was under the impression that he was going to have to break the news to me about our baby girl. I began with “I….Know...it’s bad…..I could….hear….everything...I just couldn’t….talk ….or move….” Kyle looked at me stunned as he realized what I must have gone through in there myself. He sobbed as he gave me the small bits of details that he knew so far. Alba came into this world not breathing and discolored. They did chest compressions for 20 minutes (that’s horrible) and got her up to the NICU where she is being put on the vent and going into a cool down treatment for the next couple days to give her body the best chance possible to heal in these crucial first days. The doctor who delivered Alba came through the curtain and I could tell she had been crying. She told us she had no clue what had happened and that she was so sorry. No one was expecting her to come out not breathing. I could feel her heart and how much she cared. I knew she meant every word she said. Kyle was sobbing and I asked if we could have some time for ourselves. After a time of crying together, or me trying really hard to come fully back into consciousness, we decided that Kyle needed to be back with Alba as I was only sitting in recovery until I could go to my room. 45 minutes later and I was able to leave the recovery area and be pushed up to my mom. However, the amazing staff made it possible for me to meet Alba for the first time in my transport bed. I was pushed up to the NICU and manuevered into her tiny tiny room just enough so I could be by her side and level with her. When I tell you that baby was gorgeous! The perfect mix of Kyle and I. My dark full head of hair….hair everywhere actually haha but Kyle’s eyes and nose. My toes (which we laugh at) but his feet shape. Her dad’s hands. She was literally everything I had thought about those past 9 months. I was only able to be with her for 5 minutes before being hauled to my room. I was able to get to my room which had two hospital beds in it and a couch. Due to covid they weren’t filling every room so Kyle was able to take over the other bed. At this point, it is 6am Saturday morning September 11th. Alba was born at 3:29am and already so much has happened. My life had crumbled. Kyle was back with me but adamant to get back to Alba. I physically couldn’t get up right away and weirdly struggled with having him leave me. I knew he needed to be in two places at once, with me and with Alba and I knew as her mama the obvious choice, but it was hard to let him go back to the NICU and have me alone in my grief and physical pain from the c-section. The nurse aid helped me to my feet for the first time and I felt the medicine fading the more I felt my incision site for the first time give me jabs of pain. I still hadn’t processed how much I should focus on resting. As soon as I was cleared to be on my feet, I had the nurse aid wheelchair me back up to the NICU. Kyle was shocked to see me and I didn’t even stay too long but I needed to be there. I needed to see her. I came back down to my room and rested which may have been the worst part because resting was really just laying in bed thinking about Alba. I was alone because my team mate was being the best dad and sitting with our daughter. But I was struggling. I went back up with Kyle pushing me in the wheelchair one more time that Saturday and still only stayed briefly. I was beginning to feel the pain of my site and was having a hard time. By the next morning, I began to think that I had overdone the day prior. I was sore, in pain and couldn’t fully stand straight up. Walking was rough, the bathroom was rough, everything I did was harder and then I had my grief as the cherry on top. Kyle spent half his time tending to me by physically helping me to and to use the bathroom, consoling me and making sure I ate. I was distraught and refusing to eat but the medicines that I was on were requiring me to eat something. I made it to see Alba once, maybe twice on Sunday but never long because I had begun to get severe headaches that wiped me out if I wasn’t lying down. I thought grief was playing a heavy factor into my recovery and figured anxiety was winning too. It was at this point that I had spread the word about Alba on social media and working hard to get as much prayer for her as possible. I found this fulfilling as I couldn’t physically be with her so I remained stuck in bed in a hospital room by myself and read through comments and messages from everyone giving us support. This got me through the long days of grief, pain and lonliness. Yet, I knew this wasn’t right. I shouldn’t be feeling this way and I should be next to my daughter. The afternoon came and my nurse asked me if I wanted her to teach me how to pump. The thought had not even crossed my mind as I had assumed that I wouldn’t be able to do anything with Alba in the NICU. But she told me that Alba could still use my milk and that it was great for her so I jumped right into trying. My nurse was so sweet with me as I tearfully listened to how pumping works. As a first time breastfeeding mama, I was elated to contribute in some way to my baby in a time where I felt helpless. I wasn’t able to be with her in the NICU as much as I liked but I would be sure to give my baby food if she could take it.

Afterwards, I had finally showered and I mentally felt good, I physically felt ready and I even brushed my hair so I could go and sit with Alba for a while. As Kyle left so he could meet with one of the doctors (he was incredibly involved with her care and knew her entire schedule and who was seeing her and when), I promised him that I was wasn’t going to be far behind but I was just running slower and didnt want to drag him down and miss rounds. He left and I became paralyzed with anxiety. I couldn’t face the thought of even seeing Alba in that moment. I felt confused because I had just been so excited to see her and be with her. I had showered and this was by far the best I had felt yet but the anxiety stopped me in my tracks as I sat on the edge of my bed and I couldn’t get myself to stand up. After some hard battle in my head, I stood up, bailed on the wheelchair and slowly made my way to the NICU. I fought with hard emotional thoughts the entire way and I felt my headache begin to quickly creep back. Kyle happened to be walking out of the NICU floors’ drink station as I was right in the hallway and I broke down to him in a fit of tears and angst. We slowly made our way to Alba, she was about to be changed position wise and needed us out of the room because it was too small…..ugh. So we made our way back to the nutrition room that Kyle had walked out of and we sat for all of 1 minute before I caved and asked Kyle to walk me back to my room. I lay in the hospital bed and the panic attack hit full force. I began to shake uncontrollably and sob loudly. The pain in my core was sharp as my body would not stop tensing up with every yell that I gave. I went between sobbing and crying out “ow!” as Kyle crawled into the bed with me and just held me. Nothing calmed me down. I asked the Holy Spirit, I worked on my breathing, I focused on my body shakes but nothing stopped. I was stuck in this moment of absolute despair that my body could no longer keep inside. My nurse and midwife came in and asked me what I wanted to do. I think this is the only time where I feel that I could have been listened to better. While I did say that if I just fell asleep that I would most likely feel better, they put the ball in my court when it came to what I thought I needed but I was refusing to be the first one to say a medication like xanax. I continued to shake and loudly sob over the loss of control and grief I was in. They came back a couple minutes later with a benadryl in hopes to help me sleep. While I’m appreciative of this small intervention, my anixety and heartbreak needed the big guns of medication at that time. I took the benadryl and tried hard to fall asleep. My body finally caved and I snoozed for only an hour or so but woke up calm. Kyle was with Alba and I went to join them. I sat in a chair next to her crib and laid my head into my palms. I felt horrible. Everytime I would get up from laying down in my bed, I’d slowly depreciate and feel worse and worse. The headaches were excruciating but I chalked it up to stress, anxiety, grief and 2 days post c-section. Kyle would play “Too Good to Not Believe” by Cody Carnes + Brandon Lake on repeat and while he sang aloud to Alba, I’d try hard to focus in on the lyrics and quietly sing along. It was such a blur though. I eventually caved and had Kyle walk me back to my room. It broke my heart so much to not be able to stay with Alba due to how I was feeling. I struggled with wanting to power through and be her mama for her and being in so much pain that I couldn’t think properly.

(These sequence of events are definitely blurry even though its only been 10 weeks as I write this portion of my story. The body really has a way of trying to block out traumatic events.)

Later Monday, Kyle mentioned that he needed to be in the NICU to be present for rounds and meet with Alba’s doctor. I said I’d join but Kyle strongly pushed that I stay back and focus on healing so that I can join them sooner and feeling better. I listened but quickly realized I was missing out on something big when Kyle came back to my room with the doctor. Dr. Klarr inquired about why I wasn’t coming to the NICU to hear these plans about Alba with Kyle. I was confused because to me Kyle had only said that he wanted to ask some clarifying questions and that there wasn’t much news. I explained to Dr. Klarr that miscommunication but also that I was struggling. She told me that she could easily see that I was not myself and needed some help. After catching me up on the game plan for Alba, we were going to do a MRI the next morning (tuesday) to see the amount of brain damage she had and then do a second MRI a couple days later to check brain function, she left. Kyle and I sat with hope for Alba’s MRI and just continued to pray for miraculous healing but we were both a mess. Within minutes, my nurse came in and asked me if I wanted xanax or ativan. I was stunned at the instant change up that Dr. Klarr provided for me but was relieved to get some medication help that I was hopeful would stop these painful headaches, nausea and lack of desire to face Alba in the NICU and help me to be able to sit with her. I chose ativan as for some reason I thought it was stronger and I was ready to feel relief and get to my baby. I quickly fell asleep for the night and had hopes for the big day that tomorrow was bringing.

Tuesday morning came and while I could breath without shaking and cry without audibly yelling, I still struggled with severe migraines within 10 minutes of getting out of bed. I could get up and go to the bathroom just fine, or get up and grab my pumping supplies but by the time I made it to the NICU or by the time i was done pumping, I felt like garbage and needed to lay back down. I didn’t understand. I assumed this was another level of anxiety and stress that nothing could help so I just needed to bare through it. Kyle and I went up to the NICU together for morning rounds and while the ativan helped me get up there, it only slowed my headache slightly. Rounds came and as I sat by Alba and tried to listen to the resident speak about my baby to the room, I focused more on not throwing up from the intense headache. The doctors left and I soon did too to go lay down. I was distraught to not say longer. I carried hopes to take a nap and get right back up there and try again. I told my nurse about this lingering headache and we tried some tylenol shot (again, blurry, so might be wrong about tylenol but it was a shot). It didn’t help but I got up from my bed by early afternoon and went back to Alba. Her first MRI was scheduled for today and I sat in the corner of her tiny room and held my head in my hands while the nurse began the process of getting everything ready to transfer her. Kyle let me be for about 10 minutes before seeing that I needed to go back. I couldn’t talk or focus and really didn’t feel well. He grabbed my wheelchair and before we could even make it to the elevators to go down, I threw up the only thing I was able to eat that day, a couple strawberries and a piece of toast. We came back to my room and Kyle was visibly so sad and worried about me. This poor man was emotionally carrying the team for me and our baby, alone and still dealing with his own anxiety and grief. The nurse came in and heard about my puking and I took another dose of ativan and norco. I laid in bed with relief from my severe headache and nausea but in complete heartbreak over my inability to stay by Alba. I felt like a complete failure as a mother. Sometime later, a doctor came in and said that he looked at my symptoms and that I was a textbook case for an epidural leak. This would explain my excruciating headaches, nausea everytime I stopped laying down for longer than 10 minutes. I was shocked that there was actually a straightforward diagnosis for what I was dealing with because I was convinced that I was just a mess and there was nothing anyone could do for me. They promised to get me a blood patch by the next day but within 15 minutes my nurse came in and said that the anesthesiologist was ready to go. Pumped to get this over with, Kyle and I went to a Pre-OP area with the nurse and waited. Kyle actually decided to pick up his doordash for dinner and assumed that I’d still be waiting to go but as soon as he left, the nurse and anesthioligst came in and it was go time. Basically to fix an epidural leak, they had to redo my epidural and replace the little hole/gap/pocket that was causing my pain with a sterile draw of my own blood. So as I repeated the arched sitting position on my the side of my bed but without my belly this time, the nurse stood in front of me and drew my blood while the doctor repeated an epidural on me at the same time. The nurse passed a syringe of my blood over me and to the doctor and he injected it into my back. I was told to lay down flat for 30 minutes while it worked in but that I should experience immediate relief. And I definitely did. It was as if a veil was pulled from over my eyes and I could see and think clearly again. It was amazing and absolutely worth it. During this entire time, Alba was in MRI. We were told she would be gone for atleast 4 hours but as we continued to check in, 4 hours then 5 and 6, we began to worry but still carry hope for good news. One of her doctors called Kyle at 11pm and asked if she could come to my room to talk. We were paralyzed with fear for why she would want to come to us away from Alba but we waited patiently for her arrival. I feel bad at not even remembering this doctor’s name as she was the one to give us the most heartbreaking news of our lives. Alba made it back from MRI and was currently getting settled back into her room. The MRI showed that she had level 4 brain bleeds on each side of her head. She was severely brain damaged everywhere including her brain stem. One side of her brain was pushing hard into the other due to all the bleeding. Again, the details are blurry, the wording is probably off but I currently dont have what it takes to go back and reread the accurate wording of her results. She was basically brain dead with zero expectancy to have any quality of life and all surgeons said absolutely not to touching her. My world came crashing down. Kyle’s world came crashing down. We asked everything we could think of, there was no loophole, no glimpse of hope, no small chance. We needed to decide if we were going to let Alba go now or soon, but there wasn’t a never option. To be fair now, we did have the option to not let her go, but her life was going to be on a ventilator as she was now, with the machine doing all the work for her, and on loads of pain medication to keep the pain at bay. What kind of choice is that? The doctor gave her condolences and left us. I sat there in my bed, finally feeling physical relief from the migraines and nausea but now hearing that it was too late to catch up on the time I had missed with my baby. It was time for her to go. I cried out, “God, why have you turned away from us?!?! Where are you in this? Holy Spirit, I need you NOW.” Please. I pleaded and pleaded. My baby doesn’t deserve this, she is innocent and perfect. Kyle and I called our pastor and we spoke with him about our options, God’s hope and our authority in this situation. I wish i could say that it helped more than it did. We were completely broken. Kyle and I both fell asleep in my bed holding onto each other and crying. We dreaded what the morning brought with it. We woke up and the reminder of our life slammed in like a tidal wave. We were quiet and depressed. We took our time getting up and took even longer to finally decide to go to the NICU. We knew that once we went up there, it was time to begin saying goodbye to Alba. But we did. We went up to the NICU floor and felt the beams of pity stares from staff as we made the slow walk to her room. Alba’s nurse was in the room and immediately greeted us with an offer to jump into our first session of skin to skin. YES i thought but i was also mixed with confusion. Did the nurse know what was going on (of course she did)? Was she offering me to hold my baby skin to skin because she thought it would miraculously help our daughter in a final attempt to prevent saying goodbye? Irrational emotions as I look back and know that Albas nurse was simply just being her amazing self and giving us an intimate time with our daughter that we would have otherwise never gotten had she not brought it up and offered.

I got to do skin to skin with Alba first. This was my first day while still in physical pain at my csection site, (and slight sweats from a fever that i was not sharing with anyone because i wanted to see my daughter), i was feeling completely better from the migraines and nausea that my spinal leak had been causing. I was able to sit with my daughter and focus on her instead of not throwing up or passing out. It killed me that it took this long to find an answer for me and now I had to say goodbye. It still does kill me with guilt today. In this tiny hospital room, as I felt the warmth of Albas skin on my own bare chest, my body ached to keep her. I looked at Kyle sitting on the floor across from me and said “this can’t be the first and last time I hold her like this Kyle. What if we waited a week.” A selfish thought as I now look back and know that as time passed it would somehow only get harder to say goodbye, I couldn’t keep her in the pain and state that she was in just because I couldn’t stand not holding her again. Kyle was the one who rationally said this to me in response to my pleas. I knew he was right, but my new post-natal body did not. My body ached for my baby and war’ed with my mind as I tried to accept that we had to let her go, and today. We talked logistics as I held Alba and Kyle sat on the floor. The night prior as we processed our decision, Kyle hadn’t wanted anyone to see Alba before saying goodbye. We had even called our moms and let them know that we couldn’t bare anyone else seeing her and saying goodbye. However, that morning Kyle had a change of heart and wanted our moms to come to the hospital to say goodbye. Our moms dropped everything (while also taking care of all of our kids, not sure how they did that but I’m so thankful) and arrived at the hospital within the hour. As this was happening, I switched places with Kyle and watched him settle into place with our daughter on his chest. My heart broke all over again. Alba was the perfect mix of us, she was all Kyle but my hair color. After some time, Kyle hesitantly finished his skin to skin with Alba because our moms had arrived and it was time. Wow its suffocating to even think of how suffocating that moment was as I type this. Our nurse put Alba back in her crib and began to prepare the transfer to a small little room directly outside the NICU that was specifically made for hard situations like ours. A small nicely decorated room with a couch and chairs, a living room style but with a crib, oxygen etc. to allow a baby to remain stable before saying goodbye. We met our moms in that small room before Alba got there and just explained the process of what we were about to endure. Bless them as they kept their composure with puffy tear filled eyes. As Alba was moved into the room, many nurses came to help the transfer, our neonatologist was with us the entire time and child life had come to offer a box full of sentimental items as offer to record her heartbeat and put the sound into a teddy bear for us. It was a lot all at once. We gave our moms first dibs in holding Alba for the first time and meeting their granddaughter before having to say goodbye to her. A photographer came shortly after and offered photos for us, I said yes to which I’m not sure how I feel about now. I briefly looked at them but Alba did not look like herself anymore. She was puffy everywhere and her eyes bulgey and looked painful. My heart aches when I think about how she looked by the end. We said bye to our moms because we wanted to do this alone from here. Alba was still hooked to her ventilator and pain medication as we held her and completed footprints with our nurse and cut off a piece of her hair to keep in a baggy so that we had some sort of physical memorabilia that she was really here with us. Thank you to Dr. Klarr for suggesting and pushing for me to do that. I look at and hold onto that baggy of hair a lot on the hard days. Kyle and I sat on the couch in this small decorated room and held onto our daughter. As the nurse and doctor left the room to give us our final time before beginning the process, Kyle asked me if he could be the one to hold Alba when we said goodbye. I said of course. I got to carry her for 9 months, feel her kick and hiccup and grow inside me. I got to birth her and bring her into this world, her dad could be the one to hold her on her way out and into the Lords arms. The nurse and doctor came back in and it was time. They would swiftly pull her breathing tube out of her mouth and allow us to sit with Alba as she went. They would come in every so often and check her heartbeat until they determined that they no longer heard one and she was gone. I’m not sure how else to type this without it coming off so morbid. It is what it is…. They left the room after pulling the breathing tube from Alba and Kyle and I sobbed as we watched the pink leave her body. I didn’t think about the reality of what this process would look like. The physical aspect of what our daughter would look like as life left her body was gruesome….excruciating to helplessly watch. I sat there in a moment of spiritual clarity of what i should be doing as her mom. We had already called Pastor Dominic to help us pray over her before saying goodbye. I knew in my spirit what I should be doing right now, in the absolute hardest moment of my life, Kyles life and Albas, I said we needed to praise the Lord. How bizarre to think that we ought to thank our God in a time like this. But my faith in God showed up in that moment. I knew the spiritual battle playing out and how badly Satan wanted us to curse our situation, and bash God for having allowed this to happen. We chose to stand firm with our creator who gives and takes away but in the end knows what’s best. Kyle and i thanked God for giving us 9 healthy months with Alba and 4 days with her earth side. We thanked him for having created our beautiful daughter and thanked him for welcoming her into Heaven and holding onto her until we could arrive into eternity with them. I do believe this approach over such a heavy spiritual battle for our faith is what has propelled us into further, stronger faith in our God during this healing process. Even now, I still choose to praise the Lord for how good I know He is instead of cave to the enemy’s tactics and lies of anything else. It took 20 minutes of continued checks by the doctor and nurse of albas heartbeat before they determined she had officially passed. Kyle and I gave our final kisses and blessings to her that she was with Jesus and happy and that we would be ok and then Kyle placed her back in her crib. We stood aimlessly as we realized another hard step was now here. We had to pack up and physically leave. Dr. Klarr knew wanted to leave the hospital immediately after but I was still a patient. She pulled strings to allow me to take oral antibiotics for the fever I was dealing with and send me out right away. Kyle and I packed our items, her baggy of hair, her footprints, the box of food Kyles mom brought for us and slowly walked out of the room that held our daughter and realized that was the last time we would ever see her again. The pain was unbearable. We made our way back to my hospital room and while the hospital staff had gotten a cart for us to pack up to leave, I still had to finish one more 30 minute round of IV antibiotics before i could officially leave. At this point Kyle was hostile and ready to do anything possible to leave. I don’t blame him. I was numb and so ready to be done with this IV and physical pain of my csection site so I could solely focus on the emotional trauma of losing my Alba just now. The time finally came where they pulled my IV and gave me the ok to leave. Kyle and I walked out together and while he went to grab the car to pull up for us, I stood by our cart and looked around. I stood outside the hospital at this point, convinced that the season had changed from summer to fall during our time in the hospital and then a wave of trauma hit me. I suddenly felt the emotions of if I was a torture victim finally able to leave/escape my torture house. I felt traumatized for the first time with an acknowledgement of what I had fully faced physically and emotionally in that huge building. Kyle pulled up in the car, empty of a car seat because we chose to donate it back to the NICU so we didn’t have to face dealing with it later at home, and we left to begin a new chapter, grief.