The story of my deepest sorrow begins with me being 4 1/2 months pregnant and going to the hospital to have my first ultrasound. The technician kept sighing.
Then, when he asked if there had been any cramping or spotting I KNEW something was wrong. He couldn't tell me anything. He told me we could wait in the waiting room for the doctor on call to talk to us or go home and call our family doctor for the results.
We waited.
For FOUR (4) HOURS!!
Then, because something had happened to make the baby stop growing, and he LOOKED like he was only 12 week size this particular doctor told me to go home and wait for the baby to spontaneously abort. IDIOT!
I AM almost 5 months pregnant!! I am about a WEEK away from feeing the baby beginning to kick and move! I HAVE already heard his heartbeat and he sounded wonderful!! So I went home and called MY doctor. He said, "Why would he tell you that? You can't wait!"
"No duh I can't wait around with a dead baby inside me!!"
Soooo...my doctor prescribed a medication to induce labour and it worked and then hubby and I waited for it to start because he said it could take from anywhere between 2hrs and 8 or so. But, it started right away and hubby and I drove to Orillia to share the most sorrow we have ever shared in our lives together.
There are parts of this story I will never tell. I will carry them with me all the days of my life but, I won't share because they are my pains to keep-to myself.
Orillia has a beautiful program for parents who lose their babies and they have beautiful, compassionate nurses who make the whole ordeal easier to handle.
When my contractions started in earnest I was sitting in a chair enduring them and then I realized...drugs were not going to hurt anyone because I was not going to have a living baby to hold at the end of this. So I called the nurse and asked for drugs. Then I climbed into the bed and fell asleep.
In the morning I woke up and went to the bathroom to pee and gave birth to my son, Andrew Jordan Bissonette.
I called the nurse again and she took him and said she would clean him and bring him back so we could look at him again. I am calm as I tell you this but, I assure you I was NOT calm at the time. In fact, I was almost hysterical. I made hubby climb into the bed with me and hold me while we waited for them to bring him back.
At the time we didn't know whether he was a boy or a girl so the nurse had suggested we choose a name that could be for either. Hubby suggested Jordan and I liked it so that was it. That part was easy really.
When the nurse returned with AJ he was laid in a little pocket almost the size of a mini tissue holder that some grandma lady had made for these special babes.
He had:
This is the part that hurts because I love him just as much as the other three even though I did not get to keep him, smell him, clothe him, kiss him, smell him, sing to him, teach him, bathe him, listen to him coo and giggle and eventually begin to talk, watch him crawl and move and eventually walk....
At some point the nurse brought a beautiful memory book that I could write in which included pics of the baby that we could look at later as we needed to or show our family if they needed to see him. The book came with an outfit that I thought was very beautiful but, because our baby was so tiny I asked the nurse to take back and give to another family who may actually be able to use it for their baby. But, the gesture was not lost on me. It was very sweet.
A year after, on the anniversary of AJ's death we received a card from the nurses in this unit and I have always been touched deeply by the work that they are doing for and during the grieving process of all those parents who have lost their babies too.
Thank you.
This is NOT my whole story but it is enough for you to know and share my sorrow.
AND enough for all the other mother's who have felt the same to know, I KNOW and I UNDERSTAND.
I have since had a beautiful, healthy, joyful, angel baby and have moved on from this sorrow but, I carry AJ with me always and I will never forget him.
