Quote of the Day

"See you tomorrow, Hawk."

 

-Copper Jo

(As we left the cemetery last night.)

Friday

We buried Hawk on Friday morning. It was a hard morning. Maybe not as hard as we had expected though. The funeral went a little different than we were originally told. We were told that we could see him at the mortuary and that we could carry his casket from the car to his site. Those things didn't happen. When we went to place some flowers at his site before the funeral, Hawk was already there. I wasn't ready for that. The funeral director advised us not to see him again. We were okay with this because we really do want to remember him as he was at the hospital after he was born. We are so glad that we did get to see him again that Tuesday. It would have been devastating without that second time to see him and talk to him. We were able to place the book, Goodnight Moon, 3 family pictures (Copper hugging Melvin; Mexico pic of Copper, Aubrey, and I at Tulum; and Aubrey and I holding Hawk at the hospital), and Copper's Beanie Baby Brobee in his casket. We didn't get to be alone with him. We had to share the moment with the funeral director and grave worker standing nearby. It was weird and threw us for a bit of a loop. It's not easy to have plans change for this kind of event. We were mentally prepared for one thing and something different happened. Somehow we managed to roll with it. Copper enjoyed walking around and looking at all the flowers, toys, and gifts that were left at all the other graves around us. Everyone arrived at 11:00. My family: Mom, Dad, Derek, Lisa, Lucy, Drew, and Lia; Aubrey's Mom, his sister Rian, and her son Kai; my mom's good friend Trish; my friends Kellie and Jay and Shelly and Shawn. Shortly after, my mom read a poem. It was hard to hear, but felt so good to hear it. Then Aubrey and I covered his little casket with Aubrey's baby blanket and we watched as he was lowered into the ground and the vault was sealed. Then we left.

We came back later that day to pick up all of the flowers so they wouldn't wilt in the cold night air and to place a ridiculously large pinwheel at his site. This next part kind of cracks me up, but it really made Aubrey mad...When we let Melvin out of the car, he immediately peed on some flowers in the first row and then bee lined to Hawk's flowers and peed on them. I think it's funny/ironic because we chose Hawk's site to minimize the possibility of dog's peeing on his stuff and it turns out that Melvin was probably the first dog to do it.

Yesterday was Saturday. I didn't cry all day. Aubrey, Copper, and I went to Hawk's site to bring him the flowers from Friday and I actually smiled as we pulled up. The oversized orange and white polka dotted pinwheel made me smile. When I walked up to the site, I noticed that a certain someone wrote "Grandma Strong" in the dirt. That made me smile too.

The cemetery has always been a relaxing and serene place for me. Aubrey and I both enjoy visiting other cemeteries when we travel. Even though our tiny baby boy is buried here, it is still a calm place for me.

I think about Hawk all the time. But now it's not with a sense of dread of the shitty things that we had to do all week. Now I look forward to visiting him at the cemetery. There is something about having him buried that has given me a sense of peace about this whole situation. The "calm" moments now outweigh the downs.

Up and Down...Mostly Down

I'm new at this whole sadness thing. I am fortunate enough to never have had to feel a loss of this magnitude before. This was our baby. Even if the only time that we had with him was in my tummy, he was still our baby. We only ever imagined all of the fun things that we would do with him. The headaches that would be caused by having a toddler and a newborn in the house. The mischief that he and Copper would have so much fun causing. We never imagined that we would be burying our baby. On Sunday we planned his funeral. He'll be buried on Friday. This will be the longest week of my like. Last Friday I was consumed with the thought of holding my dead baby. Saturday I was consumed with the thought of planning his funeral. Now I'm consumed with the funeral. There is such finality with being buried. I struggled with that part of my Grandpa's death and funeral. He was going into the ground all by himself. Now my baby boy is going into the ground all by himself. He's not going to live a long and amazing life. His life ended before it really began. He was with us long enough for this loss to be the most painful thing I've ever felt. But it wasn't long enough.

I have moments when I feel okay. I call them my "calm" moments. It's when I'm not consumed with images of him being lowered into a hole. Or hearing the words, "There is no heartbeat." Or remembering the feeling of him sliding from my body knowing that he would not be coming home with us. Or thinking about him alone at the hospital, alone at the mortuary. I have moments when these thoughts do not consume me. But mostly they do.

Today Aubrey and I went to see Hawk at the mortuary and to cover him with my baby blanket. We didn't like the idea that he was all alone and naked without anything personal to keep him company. So instead of covering him in my blanket on Friday, we did it today. He is tucked in nicely under the blanket that my Great Grandma made for me when I was born. The hand embroidered image of a kitten covering his tiny fragile body. It was emotional to see him again, but we both wanted to. Soon all we will be able to see is a small rectangle of freshly filled dirt. I hate the idea of him being alone. It just doesn't seem right. It isn't fair. He should be safe in my tummy, dancing and kicking and thrashing around. He should be waiting until he is ready to be born in August.

I am dreading Friday. But I wonder if after Friday that maybe I'll have more "calm" moments. Actually, every day I wonder if the next day I will have more "calm" moments. So far it hasn't worked that way. Like I said, I'm new at this whole sadness thing. I don't know how it works or how long it will last. It's not something I can check of my list of things to do. When I read Copper stories at night and sing her songs after she's tucked into bed, I do everything in my power to not be consumed by sadness that I cannot and will not ever do this with Hawk. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes the quiver in my voice gets the best of me.

 The blanket that I was tucked into bed with as a baby and carried all over the house as a toddler. It was my constant companion as I sucked my thumb. My mom always kept it clean and I always remember that clean, laundered, fresh smell. Now it will be Hawk's constant companion. There to always keep him warm. 

Hawk Godwin

"I have bad news." Then Dr. Barbera started an unbelievably long pause. The first thought that ran through my head was, "this is a pretty fucked up kind of joke in the ultrasound industry...they wouldn't joke like that...". Then he placed his hand on my leg and I lost it as he finished his thought with, "There is no heart beat." Aubrey was at my side in a flash. 

On Friday I was 21 weeks and 6 days pregnant. We scheduled my ultrasound that day because a doctor came into the birthing center twice a month to do ultrasounds. Friday, April 12th was one of his days. I had my "20 week" appointment immediately before the ultrasound at 2:30. At that appointment I was informed that all of my lab work came back great and my blood pressure was low as usual. We discussed the baby's irregular movements over the past couple weeks and was again reassured  that babies at this age do not always move around every day and it's not always consistent. (I had called Monday morning and was told not to worry and to come in any time to hear the heartbeat. I said I'd just see them Friday.) Copper was doing back flips a few hundred times a day by this point without fail when I was pregnant with her. Every pregnancy's different, right? I had felt (thought I felt anyways) the baby move mildly, but regularly, on Monday and Tuesday, but not really since then. I hadn't felt much movement for about 5-6 days prior to that. Maybe it wasn't the baby moving on those days. The nurse got out the little heartbeat machine and spent a couple minutes looking for the heartbeat. She couldn't find it. No big deal. We were heading down for the ultrasound next anyways. We'd hear and see it then. 

The doctor got started and quickly informed me that there was only one baby. We joked about how he knew he always had to say that first. Then came a clear image of the baby's head and part of the body. He stayed on that image a long time without saying anything. Then he said the worst thing possible. That was it. Our baby was dead. The baby measured around 19 weeks and few days. It had a lot of fluid around the brain and abdomen. The doctor said that this late in the game, the baby probably had Downs or another severe chromosomal defect such as Trisomy 21 that made the pregnancy non viable. (I know that I felt the baby move after 19 weeks. Maybe he was just small because of the complications?) The doctor showed us his heart. The little black spot on the screen that wasn't moving. We went into that ultrasound merely to see if we were having a boy or a girl. With hopes that we'd see a little penis. We didn't find out the sex. 

The midwife came down and we talked about what happens next. Then we went back up to the birthing center's main exam rooms and waited as arrangements were made for me at Swedish Medical Center to be induced. I was scheduled for 10:00 pm that night. I couldn't get the thought of holding my dead baby out of my head. This was going to be too hard. Aubrey and I drove home, packed up Melvin and Copper's overnight bags and headed to my parents to drop everything off. Copper was already there playing with Lucy while we had our appointments. We stayed awhile and then headed home to "relax" a bit before heading to the hospital. 

We checked in at 10:00. I had to say that I was scheduled to be induced and that I was 22 weeks pregnant. After 3 attempts at getting an IV started in my dehydrated veins (apparently I was a bit negligent about my water intake that day) I was given my first high dose of Cytotec, 2 Tylenol, and a half dose of Ambien at 12:30 am. Aubrey curled up to sleep on his pull out twin bed while I lay on the hospital bed. We both were able to sleep. I better than him. We were woken at about 5:00am so I could get my second dose of Cytotec and two more Tylenol. We went back to sleep. During both of those segments I woke up once each time with mild cramps and shaking a bit from being cold. Otherwise I slept. The doctor came in about 8:15 am to let us know that we'd be doing one more round of Cytotec around 9:00. After he left I got up to pee and then the cramps started. I then got my third dose. I was dilated to 1cm. The midwife on call at the birthing center came to visit then. We talked for a bit, she gave me an herbal recipe to help dry up my milk when it came in, and the name of a support group. I was allowed to eat so Aubrey and I ordered room service. I had pancakes and potatoes. Aubrey had an omelet. They were okay.

The cramps worsened over the next couple hours and were eventually paired up with diarrhea. These cramps were constant and never stopped. I still didn't have any contractions. Around 11:00am Aubrey called the nurse in to get my epidural. I was breathing through the pain, but there was no break and it was only getting worse. If I still had contractions to deal with, there was no way I wanted to continue to breathe through it. The nurse arrived and she confirmed that yes, I would still have contractions later so we talked epidural. I wanted to see how far dilated I was, but she said that she'd look after the epidural when I was more comfortable. I lay back on the bed and breathed. The anesthesiologist came in and I put on the hospital gown.  I sat on the bed cross legged and got prepped for the epidural. Shortly after sitting down, I felt an immense pressure and a drop. The cramping stopped, but this intense pressure remained. I felt like I was holding in a very full bladder. I expressed this and they finished the epidural. I went to lay on my side and our little baby slid right out. This was going to be the worst part of the  whole experience. We were going to hold our dead baby. I did one little push and everything was out. They took the baby out of the sack and cut his umbilical cord and cleaned and wrapped him. Then he was in our arms. 

Our little baby boy. Aubrey and I sat together on the bed for over two hours holding our baby in our arms. Looking at his hands and feet; fingers and toes. His eyes that were just beginning to open that reminded me of kittens a few days after they are born. We looked at his flat little nose and ears. His lips and tongue that showed between them. His little nipples and his little penis. His round belly and skinny arms and legs. His whole body a tiny jello mold of the baby we were planning on holding in mid August.

Hawk Godwin was born on April 13, 2013 at 11:27 am. He weighed 6.8 oz and was 9 inches long. He just turned 22 weeks old. 

Holding Hawk was the best part of this whole experience. We got to see and touch our baby. After the tears stopped, Aubrey and I both felt a sense of calm about everything. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to either of us, but we felt okay. We were holding our baby. Nothing was going to change the fact that nature dealt him a shitty hand and he was forced to fold early. But the baby that had been moving in my tummy that we loved from the day he was conceived was in our arms. So this is what closure feels like. Who knew. 

The only profile shot we took. Right before we headed to the hospital. 

21 weeks and 6 days. 

Now we're home. The emotions come and go. I'm at peace one minute and crying the next. We spent this morning at Fairmount Cemetery picking out a casket, plot, and grave marker. Each piece of his burial a painful step in this nightmare. Hawk's new home will be in "Baby Land" at Fairmount. I've ran and walked by this area over a hundred times. Each time thinking about how hard that must be to bury a child, but always having the benefit of detachment. We chose a site as close to a tree as possible and four rows back so the chances of dogs like Melvin peeing on him is minimized. Fairmount is a beautiful old cemetery close to our house that my mom and I both love to spend time at. My relationship with the cemetery will be different now, but it's a good place for Hawk. Someday he will come to rest with Aubrey and I, but until then he will rest with the other babies that also left this world way too early.

We will have a very informal gathering at the cemetery on Friday morning at 11:00am. Aubrey and I will get to see him one last time. We will wrap our old baby blankets around his tiny body. We will place photos of us, his mom, dad, and sister, with him. We will give him one of Copper's stuffed animals to sleep with. We will drape his casket in one of Copper's blankets. Then we will bury our little baby boy.