21 days postpatrum. 21 days with out my baby.

  

  It's been 21 days... My daughter has been dead for 21 days. How is that physically possible? How could it have been that long already. My friends, are all going to concerts, or the county fair, their lives are all moving on, and I am here, stinking up my bed, wondering when I showered last. My god son, is learning to crawl, although he seams like he will be better at walking soon, than he is crawling. My sister is having some stronger Braxton hicks like contractions. Everyone's world is moving on, and ours isn't. My baby will never learn to crawl, she will never walk, I will never see her again.  Why?

     Shit like this just shouldn't exist. You shouldn't burry your child. It's awful. I think about it all the time. Her perfect little lifeless body under dirt, and rocks, and getting rained on. It's fucking awful. We could not process the thought of cremation though, as awful as what's going on out there right now, I couldn't imagine, burning her perfect little body. We already damaged her enough.
     Renata is another one of the midwives that work at our hospital, she came into our hospital room and began a conversation that I really didn't want to have. It was time to start discussing organ donation.  Immediately my mind said NO. NO. You ae not cutting up my baby... We had already had that discussion once when they asked if we wanted an autopsy. Not happening.  Here she was though, asking if we wanted to at lest have a discussion with an organ bank. I looked over at Matthew, and could see he had already made a decision to. He wasn't shaking his head, or saying anything, but I could tell by the look on his face, he was gonna let these people cut up our baby. So there, was my couple minutes of panic. How could I let this happen? Would I? Should I? Somewhere in those moments, looking at Matthews face, I knew I had to. I knew I Should. We were both organ donners, on our licenses. We both knew that once we were gone, if someone else could use our body parts, then they should be able to. I started to think "What ifs" what if she could save a baby, what if another set of parents didn't have to go through this, because of her. The choice was made. There was no way we couldn't. I wouldn't wish my pain, on my worst enemy, and if I said no, then I was handing someone else this pain. I couldn't do that.
     Before Renata had finished her sentence, all of this had gone through my mind. To make the hardest decision of my life, all I needed was a tiny smile from Matthew, and I knew what the right answer was. If it was not for him, I wouldn't have even considered it. He never said yes, he never told her we would do it, he asked me what I thought and told me that what ever I wanted, we would do.
     So, we did. We told her we would talk to them. So we made the phone call, and after much reassurance from them that we would still be able to see her after her surgery, we agreed. We were told at four o'clock we would need to turn her over to them, to be "Chilled". I still can't get through that sentence without getting choked up when I talk about our journey. "Chilled" they "Chilled " my baby.

 A hug, from Renata, At the Funeral.

     Any way, I watched the clock until four came around. I SOO did not want to let her go. I knew though, that I would get her back. The whole donation process was much different than I expected. First of all, the donation bank came to us, around midnight that night, the woman who would be doing her surgery came to meet us, upon Matthew's request. They had come in from Boston, 5 hours way.  She told us about her son, and how a transplant had saved his life, he was born with a large hole in his heart, and the only reason he lived, was because someone had made the same choice we were making. Again, in that moment, I knew, we had made the right choice,  as much as I hated the thought. One of our nurses, Connie, followed the surgeon down stairs, and for learning purposes, watched the procedure. For her, it was learning, for me; it was comfort, to know that someone who had taken such care of me, would be there with my daughter.
     So there she was, 15 hours after birth having parts of her heart removed. I didn't even know, before, that they were able to use parts that far out from death, but here my baby was 15 hours after birth, saving the lives of strangers.
     We found out later, that she saved my life too. She was taken, by a blood clot in the placenta. Often times the blood clot is not a major heath issue for the baby, it often times only effects the mother, which in turn can kill her, and the baby. Normally the clot would have amassed in my body, stopping my blood flow, and taking both of our lives; because it took just her, I was able to live. I know my family takes a lot of comfort in that. As does Matthew, but it's hard to be grateful for that, as a mother I am supposed to protect her, the one place she was always supposed to be safe, was in the womb. I was supposed to worry about the world, once she was in it, not about her, in me. I failed her, women are created, specifically to make babies, by body was built for this, and I was unable to do that for her.
     I am grateful to have her amazing Daddy, because alone, this wouldn't be survivable. So I suppose, for his sake, I am glad she saved me. Dying with her, would have hurt so much less, but I can't imagine the pain that would have left for my family, for Matthew. I am grateful that I have these moments to apologize, to mend my regrets. I apologized to her  Daddy, for begging him to come with me into the OR, when they were refusing to let him in. If I had died, that would have been the last thing he herd from me; me begging him to do something he couldn't. I would have regretted that. I do.

     I wish I could have stood outside the door with him, when they called "Code Blue to OR 4". By that point, thankfully,  my parents were with him, and his step mom, Jody. We had an ultrasound the morning before, and Leeona received an 8/8 health score, so my Mom assumed the code blue was for me. I wish I could have been there. I wish I could have held her hand to tell her I was okay. Matthew didn't know what it meant, thank god, for 2 more minutes, he got to think that everything was okay. I wish I had been there for him, when they told him everything wasn't okay. He collapsed, and was put into a wheelchair, after that, and demands from him, our baby was placed into his arms. I wish I could have been there for that. I wish I could have pulled my Mom and Jody off the floor when there knees buckled. I wish I could have been there for it all.
     Unfortunately I was just waking up, in another room, being told that my baby didn't make it.