Child Loss Featured Grief Journal

“There’s Nothing We Can Do”

Written by Guest Writer

This is Danielle’s story:

My youngest son was born on May 18, 2013.

We named him Oliver Charles Ring.

He was perfect, tiny, but absolutely perfect.

That day had started like any other day. My three other children ate breakfast and went off to play. I had felt a little off but couldn’t pin point why. I finally told my husband I needed to go to the Dr, just to make sure everything was ok as I was having a little pressure low in my abdomen and in my back. He thought I might have been overreacting as I had just had a check up with our Dr the day before but said if I felt I needed to go, than I should go.

When we went in our family Dr just happened to be the one on call that weekend. I was relieved when he told me I was not dilated and it most likely was just a UTI as I had suffered from those a couple times during my pregnancy. I went home with orders to take it easy, drink lots of water, and to check back on Monday, unless things seemed to be getting worse. So, I got home, grabbed a bottle of water and laid down on the couch. I did just what the Dr told me to. Only the discomfort and pressure was getting worse and finally became painful, to the point I was having to breath through it. I called the office back and anxiously awaited a phone call back from my doctor.

After explaining to him what I was feeling he advised me to go to the hospital to be checked out again and observed, just to make sure nothing major was happening. I told my husband what the Dr said and tried to find a sitter for our kids. No luck. So, we loaded up everyone into the van and headed up to the hospital. About half way there, breathing through these pains it hit me…these are contractions…but I didn’t say a word to my husband, not wanting him to freak out figuring it was still nothing serious. He dropped me of at the ER and I started to get more and more worried.

Two nurses from the birth center came to get me with a wheelchair. I told them I knew I was having contractions and they were getting pretty close together. The nurse pushing me said ok and that they would hook me up to the monitors to see what it showed them. My Dr showed up a few minutes later. They came and drew blood, ran a slew of tests and kept checking the monitors. I was contracting about every 3-5 minutes. I was now starting to dilate. And my heart rate was off the charts. They did an EKG because they were so worried about it. My Dr then called the OB on call to get his opinion on the best course of action and ordered an ultrasound. Things started to blur together, the contractions were getting so much more intense. I remember looking at the nurse while she was checking the monitors and her face scared me to death.

It was the words that came out of her mouth next that made the walls around me start to crack…”Is your husband on his way? He needs to get here NOW.”  Up until that point I figured they would give me some magic drug to stop the contractions, put me on strict bed rest and all would be fine.

Oh if only.

I was warned if this was really labor, there was nothing they could do to stop it and baby was most likely too small to survive. The ultrasound tech came in followed by the OB on call. They started the scan of my belly with the screen so I could see. It was the first time I saw my baby and even in the midst of tremendous pain it brought a smile to my face.

But only for a moment.

They turned the screen away and the OB then told me the same thing my Dr had told me moments before, there was nothing to be done to stop my labor and my baby would likely not survive. And I was dilated more, completely effaced and my membranes were bulging. As soon as the words left his mouth my world came crashing down around me…my water broke. I bawled. I could not believe this was happening to me. My husband’s mother had come up to be with me just a few minutes before the ultrasound was performed. My husband was still not there. As the nurses and my Dr prepared for the delivery of our child, my husband walked into my hospital room. I have never seen anyone so instantly crushed. We both had thought there was nothing major going on and I would be sent home, baby still safe and warm in my womb.

We were so very wrong.

I’ll never forget the moment I had to tell my husband that my water had just broke and our precious little one would soon be born, and that he/she would not survive….I sobbed…He sobbed…His mother sobbed…The contractions eased up for a bit but not for long. I went through very intense contractions, one attempt at pushing, more contractions and finally at 6:02 pm our son entered the world. I looked down at him as he took his one and only breath. He was so perfect, so small. I fell in love instantly.

I had another son.

It was after I delivered my placenta I got a glimpse into what had gone so terribly wrong. I also learned I was lucky to be alive. I had suffered from a placental abruption. It was a slow separation that saved my life and had taken my son’s before he even had a chance. Friends and family came, our pastor stayed with us awhile, pictures were taken, impossible questions were asked…”Would you like to have him buried or cremated?”…time blurred into one fuzzy, devastating moment. We held our son his whole life, until his little heart stopped beating at 8:30 pm.

I could go on about that night, the next few days, his funeral, everything, but I will stop there. I want my story to be heard. I want the world to know about my son. He DID exist, even if his life was all to brief. He was, is and forever will be my son, my sweet boy. I love you Oliver, always have, always will…to the moon and back <3

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