Birth mourning

We had been in the hospital for ten nights, and had a pretty regular routine down. I had been able to be there to entire time thanks to wonderful guys at work filling in for me and my wonderful sister and her husband watching our children. We had grown used to having the baby monitored multiple times throughout the day and everything was looking good, we were feeling positive about our chances of keeping him in until at least 34 weeks. But when they started monitoring him on the night of the 24th everything was different. Indy was not moving around and his heart rate was too high. They decided to keep watching him for the next few hours but scrapped that when Heather started having more contractions and Indy's heart rate started having episodes of dropping followed by the nurses rushing in to adjust Heather and put her on O2 trying to get him to go back up. At about one in the morning on the 25th they decided it was time for an emergency c-section. Heather was justifiably afraid and upset. She was trembling as they wheeled her out of the room to get everything ready for surgery, I had to wait until I was summoned once everything was ready. I was left to pack up our stuff, sliding around the room in my white coveralls, paper boots and cap. I was so scared and with everything they had been saying about Indigo's condition I was fighting the thoughts that we might be about to lose him. An eternity later they brought me into the surgery room. I've now been through three of these with Heather. It feels like I am definitely not supposed to be there, they make you duck under and climb over all these wires and hoses to get to a tiny steel stool next to your wife's face and you just have to cower there in a space not large enough for any man, while you try and comfort your wife. Heather was still trembling and was in great distress. I did my best to comfort her but felt completely useless. I just kept praying over and over again for peace, and for protection over the baby and Heather. This c-section was by far the most traumatic of the three. I think the concern over how Indigo was doing, the "emergency" rush into surgery and the knowledge that our little Paxton was also coming into the world in a way, even though he was already in Heaven. Heather was having a very rough time, but she did so well, and was so strong. When little Indy came out we heard him cry, but they immediately whisked him away and we did not see him. Then it was time for Paxton. I do not have the words. What does one say about an experience like this? Is it worth writing? Worth reading? I do not know, but here goes. I felt like I was going to be sick, I was so overwhelmed with fear for Indy, fear for Heather, fear from the knowledge that they were now bringing our Paxton out, a son we would never know in this world. It was everything I could do to not throw up. I remember thinking how ridiculous I was for feeling sick, Heather was the one under real duress. We had decided that we would not see baby Paxton, we did not want our memory of him to be of his earthly body that he inhabited so briefly. We only asked to have his little feet and hands printed if they were able. They were able to get his feet prints for us. I watched a nurse walk out of the room with a bundle of blankets, our son, our Pax. He already at peace, real actual peace, an impossible thought to comprehend for me in the terrible surgery room chaos. All during the rest of the process, as they were sewing little Heather back up, I was just waiting for them to come in and tell me that Indy had passed. I was praying constantly for him to be perfectly healthy, but I just kept thinking they were going to tell me the news any moment. They never came with that news, or any news. Eventually I started assuming they were waiting to tell me later on, once we were out of surgery. The mind can play some terrible tricks. What seemed like hours later they were rolling Heather out into the hallway, they stopped by a door and asked if we wanted to see him. I went in, he was so tiny, but somehow I actually remember thinking I thought he would be smaller. They were poking him with needles and he had some breathing apparatus strapped to his face. I took a couple pictures for Heather. She could just barely glimpse him through the door. I felt like I was barely functioning, I knew I should be doing things, asking questions, I could not, I just stood there. When I walked back out the look on Heather's face was heart breaking, the only thing that mommy wanted was to hold her baby, and of course, she could not, he was too fragile, too early. We went to the recovery room. Nurses poked at Heather and refused to let her have any water for a couple hours. They brought me paper work to fill out. I did it wrong the first time, it was three in the morning.

More to follow...

Job 1:21
And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return.
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."