All I Wanted Was a Little Family

My dear little angel,

You're dad left early to go on a business trip today. He'll be back later today, but this is my first day completely alone in the house. I've planned to meet a friend for lunch and am trying to find someone to meet for dinner, so that I'm not entirely alone.

This morning, I really felt like talking to someone about you. I called my dad, but he didn't pick up. I texted a friend and asked if I could call, but she didn't answer. I stopped in front of the mirror a few times today and looked at my belly. When I was pregnant, I didn't really like that I was getting 'fatter'. I always wanted flat abs, and being pregnant is the opposite of flat anything. But now, I miss my bump, I miss you. I feel sad that my stomach is getting back to its original size and that there are no signs that you were ever inside me.

Today, I noticed that my breasts, while still full, didn't leak with milk like they have in the past few days. The fuller breasts were painful but now I'm also sad that I'm losing that. I know it doesn't make much sense because you live in my heart and that will never go away. But I'm struggling with things going so quickly back to normal. Although I feel like I'm dealing with all this pretty well, that I'm being positive and all, I also like feeling the pain. I worry on days where the pain seems less intense.

Many of my friends and family have been saying that your dad and I are strong, that if it was them, they would be on the floor crying. I don't know what to think when I hear such a comment. As if we had the choice. What else are we supposed to do other than be strong? We need to be strong for each other, we need to be strong to continue our lives. Your dad and I are trying to spend a lot of time with friends, which has been so good for us. Being with other allows us to laugh, have fun, live normally. But no one knows how deeply our pain is when we're at home, alone or with each other.

Yesterday, at your cremation, the priest was saying that you were only meant to suffer a little bit in this life. The shock from labor is the only pain you were meant to experience. That is apparently a good thing. You came and left this world without a sin. He said you must have been a saintly person in your previous life. It's so selfish, but I wish you hadn't been so saintly. I wish you had come to us and given us what we were expecting: a life full of joy and frustration, pride and stress....the whole parental package. Yesterday, at the funeral home your dad said "it must be so scary to take your kid to his first day of school". To that I replied "not scarier than this."

I would have given my life, everything I have, to have had you with us Leo. All I wanted was us to be a happy little family. Nothing extraordinary...just a normal family, like all the ones we see around us. 

Your Cremation

Dear Leo,

Today, Wednesday, Oct 30th at noon was your cremation. Your father and I arrived there at 11:30am and we got a change to hold you one more time, caress your cheek and admire your perfect little face. I am still amazed at how long your fingers are. I was telling your dad that you couldn't have probably become a great pianist. We also laughed at how much hair you had on your little head. Oh Leo, you are just so beautiful and so perfect!

A hindu priest arrived at 12:20 and performed a ceremony. Your dad and I were a little lost, since we've never gone through this before, but the priest was explaining everything he was doing to us. We sprinkled holy water (from the Ganges) on you, the sprinkled some special herbs, camphor and some other things. Then, we placed flowers all around your body. Your dad then carried you and placed you in the crematorium. It was this large industrial machine. I was scared as soon as I saw it. It hurt me to have you placed in there. Then, your dad pressed the button.

When we left the room with the industrial machines, we cried. We will never see your perfect face again. The priest explained to us that we just placed your body in the crematorium, not your soul. I know you'll always be with us, in our hearts. That does make me feel a little better, but it's still hard because I can't kiss, hug, hold, caress your soul.

This morning, right before the cremation, we got an email from a swami from a temple in Kauai. That temple is of significance importance to your dad, since it follows his traditions. We've never been there, but we are planing to go when we go to Hawaii in November. You were supposed to go with us, while in my belly...but now we decided to spread your ashes there. The swami said that they'll do a ceremony there today at the same time as your cremation...the ceremony is for you Leo. Then, they'll do another one for your dad and I. Apparently, today is the biggest celebration they've had in 12 years. Here's an excerpt of his email:

"As it happens, tomorrow , we will be in the middle of our biggest celebration in 12 years: marking the 12th anniversary of the passing of our Satguru, Sivaya Subramuniyaswami whom we called Gurudeva. One cycle of Jupiter, exactly, since he was cremated. It is a week-long festival with devotees from all over the world. It is noteworthy that, right in the middle of our marking that event, our devas here will be informed of Leo's cremation and asked to attend it and to look after everyone involved. We think probably Gurudeva and Leo will be aware of each other in the marvelous world where they are."

I didn't understand all of it, so your dad had to explain it to me. Sivaya Subramuniyaswami was the person who started the temple in Kauai. He passed away on this day. The Tamil calendar works according to planets, which is why 12 years is a big event. 

My father too has been emailing me saying that he feels your presence near him. I do wish you were with us, but your life Leo, as short as it was, has already touched so many lives. 

We love you,

Ta maman qui t'aime fort 

It's Been a Week Since We Lost You

Dear Leo,

It's already been a week since you came into our lives. To me, it seems like time has stopped since last Tuesday...

I have been keeping myself busy by doing random chores around the house and watching plenty of TV. It's when my mind is at rest that I think of you. I'm not crying as much anymore. When I think of you, I mostly smile and think of the hour we spent together.

Last night, I was watching TV with your dad - a show where one of the characters is a guardian angel. I then said to your dad 'you're my guardian angel' and he said 'I can't be, I need to die first'. I broke down into tears. Just the thought of losing your dad, especially after losing you, really upset me. I can't deal with another loss.

Tomorrow is your funeral. We needed to choose something for you to wear - but where do you buy clothes for a baby that is just 1 lb? So,  I went into your drawer. Yes, you already have a drawer in our dresser. It has all the clothes I bought for you and all the clothes your maternal grandma got for you as well. The smallest item in there was a onesie that says "born free".  Isn't that just perfect for you?

I am not looking forward to tomorrow Leo. We will get to see you again, so that's a good thing, but to be honest, I'm a little scared. I don't like thinking that your little perfect body will be cremated and reduced to ashes. The thought of it pains me and I don't know how I'm going to deal with it when I actually see it happening.

Sometimes, all this still seems like a bad dream. It all happened so fast. Exactly 7 days ago at 8:19pm I become a mother and at 9:21pm I lost my son. And here I am now, telling you about your own cremation.

I wish you were here with us Leo.

Les Petits Pieds de Léo

Dear Leo,
My friend sent me this Celine Dion song called "Les Petits Pieds de Lea". The song really captures what I feel and I find it so fitting, especially since it was written for a little girl called Lea...and you're Leo.

Here is the song along with the English translation.

English translation

Lea's Small Feet

I didn't know you,
But you made me roar with laughter
With those little mouse-like hits
You gave from behind my navel

Even without knowing you,
I love you so much, already
All of my being
Felt this strong desire to take care of you

Why won't Lea's small feet
Ever take their very first steps?
Why won't her small feet grow?

A little shudder in the universe,
As if life changed its mind
And in a gust of wind, of dust,
Happiness was swept away

I would have given everything
For you to grow in my arms
Bad luck had pointed its finger
So that's what misfortune really is...

Why won't Lea's small feet
Ever take their very first steps?
Why won't her small feet grow?

Asleep in the palm of my hands,
A being that's so light
But so, so heavy
In my motherly heart

Not a trace of small fingers
Or of kisses blown
To your daddy through the window
As he's leaving for work

And it breaks his heart
To look at the blossoming tree
He planted there, thinking
He'd see you both grow at the same time

Why won't Lea's small feet
Ever take their very first steps?
Why won't her small feet grow?

My God, tell me why
I'll only have sung to her a single time
"Goodnight sweetheart, close your eyes and sleep"

Sunday Service for Leo

Dear Leo,

Sunday, October 27th I asked that mass be dedicated to you. Your dad and I went to the 9:30am service. We don't go to mass very often, but I felt that I needed to do this. When I am at church, I typically feel a sense of peace and I needed that this week.

Sitting quietly with my thoughts is always hard. I don't know how many times I cried during mass. Random words in the readings made me tear up. One reading had the words "God is the giver of life". That got me. God gave you to us, but God also took you away.

When they mentioned you, they didn't do it the way I was expecting. They didn't pray for you, they prayed for me and that's not what I wanted. But instead the priest said "let's pray for Natasha and her stillborn son." First of all, you were not stillborn. You lived for a little while, you were in this world with us! Secondly, you're not just my son! I wish they had also said your dad's name. I know it was a mistake, I know they didn't mean any harm, I know I'm overly sensitive right now.

After the service, your dad and I went to light a candle for you. I knelt down and prayed for you and couldn't stop crying. Some people came to me and asked if we were the parents of the baby who passed. Saying to people that you died is the hardest part for me. I can't do it without crying. I rather speak of your life, of the precious moments we had with you.

Your dad and I got many hugs in church from strangers. I'm not going to lie - it helps to get hugs. I like knowing that people are sad with us. Somehow, knowing that others are sharing in our pain helps me and makes me feel like we're not in this alone.

Your dad talked to the priest about resentment. I'm not sure what the priest said but your dad said it made him feel better. That's what counts.

I felt like I needed some air, so we left and walked home in the rain. I'm glad it was raining. I'm glad the skies were as gloomy as I was and that the rain drops mixed with my tears.

Funeral Arrangements for our Son

On Saturday, October 26th, my husband  and I had to go to the funeral home to discuss arrangements and sign some documents. We took a cab there. It was the first time I left the house since giving birth to Leo.

On our way to the funeral home, looking through the car window, I saw the world going on. People walking around downtown Seattle, enjoying the sunny Saturday, having fun, carrying on with their lives. It made me mad. How can the world go on? How can these people be walking around as if nothing had happened? I know I can't expect the world to stop because of my loss...I know this is not rational. But my world had collapsed and it felt unreal to see that the world had not changed.

The funeral arrangements were very mechanical. We were just going through the motions. My husband and I have never witnessed a burial or a cremation. Our son's funeral will be our first funeral ever.

We decided to do a cremation, so that we could keep his ashes with us. I know that anything we do right now is not for Leo, it's for us. We're trying to find a way to somehow feel better. So, we decided to just have a very simple cremation. It will just be the two of us and a priest.

After the funeral, we walked to a restaurant to have lunch and then went grocery shopping. It feels good to do normal, mundane tasks. Grocery shopping made me feel normal. We called some friends to pick us up and drive us back home. Then, we prepared dinner and invited ourselves to our friends' house. We shared a meal with them, played a board game, laughed and talked. It felt so good. I don't know if I should feel guilty for having fun that night - I mean, I had fun on the same day that we made funeral arrangements for our baby.

I have my moments at home, when I'm really hurting and sad. The mornings are the worst. You wake up after a good  night sleep and remember what happened. But I also don't want to seclude myself from society, stay at home crying all day long. I want to move on, I need to move on. This doesn't mean I love Leo any less. I don't want to pretend this never happened nor do I want to forget this. I want to live on with the sweet memory of my baby boy.

The Scariest, Happiest, Saddest Day of our Lives

Tuesday, October 22, 2013 - that is when our lives changed forever. The weird thing is that we weren't expecting it to happen. It was a regular day. Good old, normal day. How I underestimated how great a boring day can be sometimes!

In the morning of October 22, I had a regular checkup with my OBGYN. As I was walking up the hill to my Dr.'s office, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. It lasted 5 seconds and then I was all better. I thought that it might just be due to the fact that I was walking up a steep hill. My appointment went fine. We heard my baby boy's heart - it was beating strong and fast, as it should. 

I then got on a bus to go to work and felt that same pain again. This time I also felt like peeing, but after a few seconds, I felt fine again. I thought these might be Braxton Hicks contractions. I started googling that, trying to learn more about it. I was at 23 weeks, in my second semester. I read that Braxton Hicks typically happen around week 30, but that some women do get them during the second trimester. Ok - good! I felt relieved. 

When I got to work, I felt a couple more of these 'practice contractions'. They were a little painful though, and Braxton Hicks are not supposed to be painful...just uncomfortable. During my lunch hour, I kept feeling the pain more frequently. At least 5 times and it was really painful. I went into the restroom. The only thing that made me feel better was peeing or trying to pass bowel movements. But then I noticed I was bleeding and knew right away that that was not normal. I got so scared that I started to cry. I got myself together and went back to my desk....but I couldn't work, still in pain. 

My office is attached to a Group Health clinic. I told my colleague that I wasn't well and was going  to try to see a Dr. at Group Health. I went in there, in tears (a mix of fear and pain) and told the receptionist that I was 23 weeks pregnant, in pain and bleeding. I asked if I could see a doctor. Her response? "Sorry, we don't take patients who are not registered with us." I was so mad, but had no energy to argue with her. When I think back though, it infuriates me. She could have offered to have a nurse talk to me or offered to called an ambulance. SOMETHING! Don't just leave me there when you can clearly see I'm in pain! 

I went back to my desk but was feeling too hot so went outside for fresh air. One of my colleagues saw me and I told him I needed to leave, since I wasn't well. He asked "do you want a ride to the bus stop?" and I said "no, I need to go to the ER". He drove me to the nearest hospital and I told him it was ok to leave, that I would email him to let him know how I was. 

The doctor took me right away. The ultrasound showed that my baby's heart was still beating and that the baby was moving. I felt relieved. At least it's not a miscarriage! Phew. But the doctor did say that I was bleeding a little too much. I called my husband at that point and told him what was going on. I couldn't really speak. I was a mess because I was really scared and just managed to tell him that I was in the hospital and was being transferred to the hospital near our house. Within minutes, I was put into an ambulance and sent off. 

When I got to the ER at my local hospital, they gave me some medication to lessen the contraction pains I was feeling. I'm not sure that really worked. Then, I got an ultrasound done. The ultrasound showed that I was already at 6cm dilated. I asked the doctor "at how many cms do I need to be to deliver?" I felt stupid...I didn't even know that piece of information. But I wasn't ready to deliver, I hadn't done all my reading, all my homework... I still had 18 weeks to go! The doctor said "10 cms". They gave me a drug called Magnesium, which is supposed to slow down the labor. Best case scenario, I was told, I would be on this drug for  1 week at the hospital. But the drug didn't work; my contractions were getting closer and closer together and were more intense. 

I was transferred to the labor and delivery unit and told that I would likely deliver that same night. I always thought I was strong and had a high pain threshold, but the pain was getting hard to handle. In the meantime, the doctors were telling us that when a woman delivers before reaching 24 weeks, the parents have to decide whether or not to save the baby. After 24 weeks, the hospital has to do everything they can to save the baby. I was in so much pain, I couldn't think straight and couldn't make such a big decision. My husband was running around, talking to the NICU doctor, calling friends who have gone through this, gathering all kinds of information. He asked me what I wanted and I remember saying "I don't want this baby to have a hard life". At that time, I didn't know my baby, I didn't know what it was like to feel love for your own child. I am almost ashamed to say that I didn't  want to save him....but that was me before becoming a parent. 

Finally, we decided we would try to save him. I asked for an epidural because I just couldn't cope with the pain anymore. I was hot, sweating like crazy, in pain...I just wanted to get this over with. I told the doctors I was ready to push. They got set up...it all happened so fast. Before I knew it, our baby boy was born. I didn't feel him coming out and I didn't hear him. My first question was "is he alive?" He was, but he wasn't developed enough to know how to cry. The NICU doctors took him right away and tried giving him oxygen...but his little lungs weren't ready for that....he just couldn't retain any of the oxygen. The doctors informed my husband that there's nothing they can do to keep him. 

My baby boy, Leonardo, was placed into my arms. He was still breathing and his little heart was beating slowly. He smiled, he put his fingers on his lips, he made some sounds. He was perfect; absolutely perfect. The cutest little nose - like my husband's. He also had my husband's chin and long arms. He had my big eyes and my dad's big ears. His fingers were long, his head was full of dark soft hair. We had him with us for about an hour before he passed away in my arms. I knew he had left us, but I kept stroking his cheek with my fingers. 

The nurse asked us if she could clean him and weight him. She did all that in our room. He was 12.5 inches long, 1 pound 8 ounces.  Born at 8:19pm, passed away at 9:21pm. The nurse took some hand and foot imprints, took some pictures, filled out his birth certificate. Then I got Leonardo back in my arms. I kept him with us overnight in the hospital. We had our dead son in our arms, but we kept kissing him, holding him, loving him. Finally, we fell asleep. When we woke up, we held him some more, sang to him, took more pictures. At 11am we were told that we could leave the hospital...but we stayed until 3pm. We just couldn't put Leo down. We couldn't leave him. When we finally gave him to the nurse, we broke down into tears. How horrible is it to give birth and not be able to take your baby home with you? I felt so empty. 

I am grateful to have had 1 hour with him, to have heard his voice. I feel happy knowing that Leo felt our love for him. I am grateful to him to have shown me what it means to love your child so much, what it means to be a parent. This also showed me how strong my husband is, how amazing and calm he was during this stressful situation. I'm in awe of  him right now. I think he had a much harder job than I did during the whole delivery period. He had to make the tough calls, he had to inform our families, he had to talk to many doctors and friends. I saw a really amazing side of him and love him so much more for that. 

 I haven't asked myself or God why this happened to me. I think that's a useless question and know there's no answer to it. I have never felt so much pain though. This really hurts. I do feel it's unfair that this happened.  Oh it's so unfair. I followed all the rules, I was eating healthy, kept active, stayed away from alcohol, caffeine, lunch meats, etc. I did everything! I do feel guilty even though the doctors told me this was not my fault...my cervix was weak, it opened too quickly, it's genetic, I was born with a weak cervix. But I am angry at my cervix, as ridiculous as that might sound. I also miss feeling him in my belly, I am mad that in just a few days my bump has disappeared. There are no signs that I was pregnant, that I delivered a baby boy, that I am a mother. No signs of any of that. I sometimes feel that this was all a bad dream and then I come to the tough realization that no, it wasn't. This was real. It happened to me, to us. 

Leo, I love you. I know you weren't meant to be in this world, but I miss you and wish I could hold you longer. I wish I could show you how much I love you and how great of a mother I would have been. I wish you had met your dad and seen how amazing he is. 

You will forever be in our hearts.

Leonardo, born on October 22, 2013 at 8:19pm.
Passed away on October 22, 2013 at 9:21pm. 

Getting the Feeling

I'm at 21 weeks and 4 days now. I can now say that I'm slowly grasping the idea that I have a little baby growing inside of me and that I'll soon be a mother. I wasn't feeling any attachment or emotions up until now, but this week I started feeling excited. It's all coming together.

My husband said something to me last week that melted my heart. He showed me an episode of a TV show about a country signer. In the episode, the signer's kids went on stage and sang beautifully. Then, my husband told me "I saw this episode before you got pregnant and I thought the kids were amazing. But now, as I watch this, I can only imagine how proud a parent can be of his kids." It touched me that he was already experiencing the feelings of being a parent. He also always says 'hi baby' when he comes home while rubbing my belly. On Saturday, we prayed together. Usually when we do this, he places some ashes or powder on our foreheads. This time, we also put some on my belly for the baby.

Two weekends ago, I went to baby Gap and bought 5 onesies for our baby boy. Last Saturday, I went onto Carter.com and bought more stuff. Having baby stuff around the house is a reminder that we're getting ready for this little bundle of joy. All these things together really make our baby feel present in our home.

I also started feeling my baby boy more often. I feel him a little during the day, but it's more prevalent at night, when I lie down and am ready to go to sleep. When I don't feel him, I get a little worried so I try to press on my belly a little to see if he moves. It gives me peace to feel him. It's hard to explain this feeling, but it's a mix of joy, relief and amazement.

DH and I also started talking about names. He likes Jack and Jeff. I don't. I like Noah, Lucas, Joshua. We both kinda like Zack and Leonardo. I think we're leaning towards Leonardo right now. It means "strong as a lion" or "lion-hearted". That's a strong, powerful meaning; I like that.  So we'll start referring to our baby as Leo for now to see how that feels. I like that it's a latin name (my mother tongue is Portuguese) and that it's easy to pronounce in French (which will be the baby's mother tongue) and English but that it's not super common.

I am thankful that I'm still feeling pretty good. I've got a little sciatic pain, which bothers me from time to time, but it's nothing compared to what other pregnant women go through. I have energy, am working out, feel pretty good and have no other pains. I am feeling a little impatient though. When I hit the halfway mark last week I thought "wow, halfway already"...but now, time seems to go by slower.