Delivering Eliza

Once I was able to concentrate on what the nurse practitioner told me, I had nothing but questions. My first: "Was I actually going to have to deliver her?". I knew the answer to this question already, but I guess I was hoping that they could just knock me out and take her. I couldn't stomach the thought of pushing her out as I did Nolan. I couldn't bear to think about the silence that would be echoing in the room, instead of her first cries.

She nodded.

My second question:"Can I keep her in my room with me?". I suppose this thought broke her down, because she nodded, turned away, and starting wiping her own tears. This doctors office knew my past. They knew I had had two miscarriages and finally was able to deliver my son. Now, they had to watch as I left to deliver my baby girl...who wouldn't be coming home with me.

They asked if they wanted someone to drive me over. It was only a couple blocks down the road, so I told them no. In all honesty, I wanted my privacy, so I could make my next move. I went into my car, rolled up the windows, and screamed as loud as I could. I screamed over and over. I cussed and I hit the steering wheel. I begged and I pleaded with God, "Please, wake me up. This can't be happening." I screamed the entire way. Not anything understandable...it just seemed like the only way to express myself.

I slowly headed to the L&D floor, where I was met with a doctor from my office. She escorted me into the Fetal Medicine Specialist's ultrasound room. I suppose they wanted to torture me more, because they did another ultrasound to absolutely confirm she was deceased. I remember holding on to a glimmer of hope that the flicker may appear. That her heart may have restarted...but it hadn't. It was still just a black and white screen, with just my Eliza...and no heartbeat.

They gave me my options. I could be induced or I could wait until labor started naturally. Considering I was already cramping, I assumed labor would start soon, so I opted to just be induced. Now looking back, I wish I hadn't. Part of me wishes I would have waited. Maybe she would have stayed in a day longer, and I would have had just a little more time with her.

However, I was escorted to a room. Ironically, it was the same L&D room I had been in when they rushed me down to L&D several times over the past several days. I remember a nurse saying they were going to hook me up to a monitor to monitor my contractions. She made sure to note that they weren't going to use the doppler. It felt like a smack in my face. Like she was reassuring me they didn't need that, because my daughter was dead.

I asked for pain medication right away. I didn't want to feel the pain of giving birth, if I wasn't being rewarded in the end.

The next several hours were a blur. Close family and friends came to offer their support. My mother even left to go get her an outfit to wear.

About 6 hours after being admitted into the hospital I was ready to push. I remember the thoughts going through my head. They would tell me to push, I would get in the pushing position, and do little effort. I didn't want to push her out. I wasn't ready to let go of her. I wasn't ready to end this pregnancy. To finalize my daughter's life as I knew it.

After about thirty minutes of little pushing, I did push her out. It was silent...The kind of silence that pierces your eardrums. No one said a word. All you could hear was my husband's sobs.

I remember I kept looking at her, begging in my head, please cry! She never did. She was born sleeping at 7:26 P.M. She weight 3 pounds 3.3 ounces, 16 inches long, and oh so beautiful.

I remember holding her and wiping her face. I wanted to get all of the stuff off of her, so I could marvel in her beauty.

Eliza stayed in our room all night. I didn't sleep at all. I knew I only had a short time with her, and I wasn't going to waste it sleeping.

I remember at times I would hold her so close to my body. My body heat would warm her face, and when I would kiss her, it made it seem as if she was only sleeping. As if she were still alive. I wish that those hours wouldn't have passed so fast. Every hour that passed, I knew I was closer to giving my daughter up forever.

I was discharged the next day. They said in these circumstances, they just ensure that bleeding is okay, and send the patient home. I waited until we walked out to say goodbye to her. I whispered in her ear how much we all loved her and that she will never be forgotten. I kissed her repeadetly and handed her to the nurse. It was the hardest thing watching them drape the cover over her, and wheeling her out. In my mind, she deserved to be wrapped like a baby, and carried. I wanted the best for her in life...and in death.

My husband and I held each other for a period of time, crying, before we left. I remember walking down the hall and them saying they needed to wheel me downstairs. I refused. I had no reason to stay. I had been discharged, and my daughter was gone.