My nurse came in and checked for Parker’s heartbeat with the Doppler. It was gone. She mumbled something about that possibly being the result of the baby so low in the birth canal but I knew that Parker had lost her fight. The time finally came that the on-call doctor arrived and I knew this was it, game over. I heard the nurse ask if she should call the NICU down and the doctor shook his head. He looked at me and said "We are on the same page here right? You know how this is going to end?" I just nodded and the tears burnt as they slid down my cheeks.
I didn’t want to push, I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want to lose my daughter and I wasn’t ready to give her up. I don’t remember how many times that he told me to push because my mind went back to that day in June when I left the garage sale to wake Chad up so we could make a baby…this baby. I remember looking down and seeing her lay on my bed. She wasn’t the right color, she wasn’t breathing, she wasn’t crying and her eyes were still fussed shut. They wrapped her up and handed her to us. No one tried to save her. There was no one from the NICU, no bright lights, no equipment, no stir-ups...nothing. The only people in the room were Chad & I and the doctor and nurse. The only light on was a small one above my bed and the rest of the room was dark.
I remember counting her fingers and toes and telling her I was sorry. My heart was being ripped out from inside me...again. It was ripped out only a week earlier and I didn't realize that it ever been given back. I wanted to be strong for Chad but I was frozen. We took pictures, we kissed her, we talked to her, we wrapped her up and we held her tight. We held her for what seemed like minutes but was hours. The baby doll outfit was too big and when we asked what she weighted, we were told that the hospital didn’t weigh “miscarriages”. If she could have stayed inside me for just 5 more days, she would have been classified as stillborn. The classification seems so cold to me, as if she doesn't deserve to be referred to as a baby. I will never use that term, I delivered a real baby that looked like a baby, not a mass of cells. Miscarriages happen when a pregnancy isn't developing or progressing properly. There was nothing wrong with my baby or my body...it was the fact that my water broke too soon. They gave us a keepsake box, a crocheted blanket & hat.
The nurse made us finger and hand prints in her baby book. A book that will never be completely filled out.
I couldn't spend one more minute in the hospital on the labor and delivery floor listening to other women deliver and celebrate their new babies. I felt guilty for being able to walk, painlessly out of the hospital after having just given birth. I came home on Sunday morning and swallowed hard and I opened the door to Parker’s room. It was exactly how we left it, only this time I knew without a doubt that she would never lay in that bed, staring at her name in letters on the wall, or the plaques that my mom made her, see that shadow boxes that I put together, examining the words we painted or the border that Chad and I hung. She would never be wrapped in the blankets that my mom made or wear all the clothes that we carefully selected to create a wardrobe fit for a princess. Chad and I would never rock her to sleep in the glider, change her diaper on the table we assembled together, push her in the stroller or hear her cries for us through the monitor. Jarod would never have the chance to read any of the books or entertain her with toys he picked out. Her wrist rattles were hanging on the handle to the car seat, just as Jarod’s had when he was a baby. She didn’t need the lotions, towels, baby wipes, bottles, pacifiers, hair bows or burp clothes. We had to give her up and leave without her. She is alone and cold in a hospital laboratory classified as a miscarriage, not a baby…our planned, wanted, loved baby that had already been crowned Princess Parker.
I made the decision that all this stuff had to go back to the stores…now. I had gone into her room several times over the months prior with the intention of pulling tags off and opening packages, however something always kept me from doing that. My heart ached when I thought back to those times. In the back of my heart or mind, did I somehow know this was going to happen? I sorted every item by which store it came from and began shuffling through receipts. We packed up what would fit in the car and headed for Babies R Us. They asked no questions and took two shopping carts worth of merchandise back with sympathy in their eyes as they did the return. They even agreed to return the assembled, box-less travel system, pack-n-play, swing and bouncy seat. I cried as we walked empty handed out of the store. Chad held my hand and helped me into the car. He drove me around to one store after another as I gave all Parker’s things back. Wal-Mart was humiliating. We had 2 carts full of diapers, wipes, etc that we stood at the entrance with while the greeter stuck a tag to each item. Several people passing us made comments about how we had “made out” at a baby shower. This continued once we moved to the customer service desk. We spent 2 hours doing the return there. I needed tote boxes to pack up the things that were left in her room. As we checked out and passed the service desk again, I realized that I had just traded two carts full of things that Parker needed for plastic tote boxes. Once again, Chad took my hand and led me to the car with tears pouring from my swollen eyes. Chad held me that night while I cried myself to sleep.
On Monday, we took the rest of the gear back to Babies R Us. When we walked in, the associate at the customer service counter saw us and called for a manager. She was not one of the associates who helped us the day before yet when the manager called the desk she said “The couple from yesterday who returned all the apparel and merchandise is here with the gear. We are going to need an over ride for the dollar amount.” Again, I started to cry. I don’t want to be “the couple”; I just wanted to be a proud mommy to a beautiful little girl. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for us; I just wanted my baby. I teared up as I explained that I didn’t put the tray on the swing because the online reviews said it wasn’t necessary for an infant. I sobbed as we left the store empty handed. The car seat that she would never ride in was the last thing I saw as I walked out the door. Her wrist rattles were no longer on the handle. I cried and again, Chad took my hand and led me to the car.
The only thing that is left to be returned is the bedding set, which was one of the first things I bought. All the packaging for everything bought to decorate the nursery sat in the closet. I can’t bring myself take it off the bed and put it back in the bag. I don't think I ever will. I don’t want to take the mobile down because I worked so hard to find a way to make it hang correctly and of course, Chad had to make sure it was on tight enough. I don’t want to take down all the things that were hand made for her room or pack up the lamp that I planned to rock her to sleep by. Her ultrasound pictures are in frames hanging on the wall. The words “Laugh, Love, Smile, Faith, Hope and Dream” still hang on the wall surrounded by a pink elephant, yellow koala, white zebra, purple hippo and a variety of butterflies.
The word “Parker” still dances over the bed. My mom was given a jewelry box for her high school graduation that she gave to me and I was planning to give it to Parker. I was going to refinish it and had been saving it as a project that my mom and I would do together. We never got it done and it sits on her dresser beside a guardian angel figurine I received in the hospital from Parker's would-be babysitter and the first bear that was bought for her, a gift from my mother. The tote boxes sit empty in her room and other clothes that I bought at garage sales still fill the dresser and closets. I couldn't bring myself to return any of the toys Jarod picked out.
Later that day, I wrote my daughter’s obituary. I felt those flutters all day, which told me that I was never feeling Parker move as I had happily thought. Instead, I felt her one time….at the amnioinfussion in Cincinnati. I now wonder if that movement was the result of the needle possibly poking her or if it was from injecting her home with the fluid she had desperately needed and been deprived of. She lost it all too quickly. Was she wondering why or where it went? Was she wishing that she could have it back and begging for me to help her. Was she reacting to the pain if she had been pricked? I stared at her pictures only to realize that she would not have survived even if she made it to 24, 28, 32, or 40 weeks. The lack of fluid had already started to do damage the websites insinuated would take weeks to happen. She is bruised from being breech. The weekly baby updates said that her ears would be in their correct location on the head by week 18 (fully developed by 24) but they weren’t there yet. None the less, she is perfect. If you look closely, you can see Chad and I in her. I have no doubt that she would have been the perfect blend of us.
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