How it all began...

Parker will be greatly missed but always alive in our hearts. Here, her story begins...

(Parker's story has been kept in order for easier reading. Oldest post is first and newest is last.)

For Parker Ellen Oleyar;
Born October 11th, 2008...21 weeks too soon.

I found out in November 2006 that I had an incompetent cervix at a routine annual exam. My doctor informed me that a surgery done two years earlier had left it sensitive and that it could create problems in a pregnancy. I remember coming home telling Chad but not worrying about it because we didn’t plan on having more children. Actually, I had vowed to never have another child, wanted a tubal litigation and swore to everyone that I never wanted to be pregnant again. Until that moment…the moment that someone said I couldn’t or shouldn’t. Chad & I spoke of how we couldn’t imagine getting pregnant only to deal w/ a loss halfway through the pregnancy. It was cruel to do that to ourselves and a child. We agreed that having a baby was probably just not in our best interest. Within months, I found myself secretly daydreaming of a baby. I assumed it was a phase that would pass. Another year went by, another exam with the same warning. The phase had never passed.

We started trying to have a baby in February 2008. Going off birth control after 7 years and “trying” to get pregnant on purpose seemed strange at first. Yet, somehow month after month that I wasn’t pregnant became disappointing. I started reading everything that I could find on how to make it happen faster and learned that there is an entire world dedicated to “ttc” (trying to conceive). I promised myself that I would never allow baby making to take over my life. It would turn out to be a promise that I quickly broke. Charting cycles, basal body temperature, ovulation predictor kits, etc soon became my daily focus. Every month, I was sure that “this was the month” and I would race to buy pregnancy tests so that I could test “5 days sooner”. Every month, there was only one line and I could almost hear it taunt me laughing “you failed the test again!”

June 2008 was different, it was a busy month. I was organizing the community garage sales, Jarod’s 7th birthday was approaching and there was a ton of things going on at work. I lost track of my meticulous charting, fertility aid popping, and ovulation testing skills in the midst of everything else that demanded my attention. I had become so “in tune” with my body after six months that I noticed if I had a hangnail. I remember sitting outside w/ Bobbie during the garage sale and realizing that “now” was the time. I left her in the garage with instructions to stay outside for awhile. Chad laughed when I woke him up. Jarod’s birthday party was the next day and ever so quickly, a new work week began.



~Yes, I dropped his birthday cake w/ the candles lit while we were singing "Happy Birthdy!"~

I never felt pregnant that month and had even come to terms with the fact that June wasn’t going to be our month either. I had bought a new brand of pregnancy tests because I simply didn’t like the results my old brand was giving me. When I woke up on Tuesday, June 27th, the only reason that I took it was so that I could clear all doubt from my head. I laid the "most advanced piece of technology you will ever pee on" down, got in the shower and gave myself a “pep talk”.


I picked up the digital pregnancy test and there were the words “PREGNANT”. I stood there; shocked…it says that I am pregnant. I-AM-PREGNANT. I asked the test if it was sure, I shook it, I clicked it against the counter, held it up to the light and then I cried. It was a happy, scared, unsure, excited cry.




My hands shook as I got dressed. I didn't even pay attention to what I was putting on. I couldn’t stop smiling and crying while I finished getting ready for work. I thought of a hundred different exciting ways to tell Chad, yet when he arrived home from work that morning….no words would come out because they didn't seem real. Yet, I couldn't wait to tell him. I'm horrible with surprises and secrets when it comes to him because I tell him everything. I have a hard time keeping his Christmas presents a secret! He looked at me, knowing that I had something I wanted to say and asked “What”? I picked the test up and let the words displayed on the screen speak for itself. Chad smiled and said “Well, there goes my sex life…it was fun while it lasted!” He hugged me and I proudly left for work…pregnant.

I was so excited to tell the girls at work. Rachel and I had a meeting to attend later and I was working the morning w/ Karen & Deidre. I quickly blurted out “Guess what? I’m pregnant!” I remember that Deidre’s eyes shot to my belly as if she expected me to be showing! So, with that it began. We wasted no time telling our friends and family. I’m sure that I posted it on MySpace within a few days. When I called to share the news w/ Bobbie, she paused before responding with laughter, “So, did the garage sale sex make the baby?” I immediately realized that I “forgot” how to be pregnant and needed to know. I bought all the books, signed up for email alerts and started reading everything I could find.

We were planning to wait a few months to tell Jarod so that the pregnancy didn't seem so long to him. However, as I always say he is 7 going on 27 years old. I took a photo of the pregnancy test to begin my "pregnancy" album and he saw it. He informed me that he knew we were having a baby because he saw "that pee stick" from the baby commercial. He told us that he really wanted a brother because there were a lot of girls at Niki's and girls are annoying. I quickly began planting little seeds to convince him that he really wanted a sister. Regardless of the gender, he was in love with the idea of having a sibling and someone to share our home with.

We had trouble picking a name for Jarod and as it got later in my pregnancy, I began to worry that we would have a nameless baby. One evening while watching reruns of the tv series 'The Pretender', I looked at Chad and said "What about the name Jarod?" Jarod was the main character on the show. Chad agreed and two weeks before he was born, Jarod finally had a name. I decided that I wasn't going through the name game with another child, so we had picked out baby names months earlier over dinner before I was even pregnant. I had never let Chad live down the fact that I wanted to name Jarod; 'Carter'. Carter had been a doctor on the tv series 'ER'. Chad argued that we could not name a baby after a pretend doctor on a soap opera. Upon hearing this comment one day, his mom laughed and said "Why not? Your name came from a doctor on a soap opera that I watched when I was pregnant with you." I think seven years of browbeating wore him down and agreed that we could use it this time for a boy. Of course, we have now started a 'family tradition'. We discussed a few girl names and after many dirty looks and sour faces, I jokingly suggested we use 'The Pretender' Series to solve our problem. Miss Parker was another main character who spent her time chasing Jarod. We immediately agreed on Parker and it actually warmed my heart to know that the names had a meaning behind them, even if it was simply an inside joke between Chad & I.


Jarod & Miss Parker from "The Pretender" Tv Series that aired in the late 90's.

I spent my days and nights dreaming of my baby. I saw her as a girl, with light brown hair. I could see her as an infant in my arms, cuddled up on my shoulder for a nap, holding my hand as a toddler and later in life as a little girl. I would braid her hair, dress her up, take her shopping, play Barbie's and be her best friend. She would be my little princess. Chad is a wonderful father and I knew she was destined to be a daddy’s girl. Our parents were excited as well and I knew my mom longed for a grand-daughter. My dad will never admit how proud he was to have another grandchild to crawl up on his lap and call him Papa. I was determined to breastfeed, have a drug free delivery in a birthing pool and be the perfect mother to my children. Jarod would be her protector and she would look up to him. I promised him the responsibility of selecting all the baby toys. He had a pair of wrist rattles as a baby and had heard the stories of how they were his favorite toy from the journeys through his keepsake box. The cow and the pig rattles were his first request and our first toy purchase. He was practicing taking care of babies at Niki’s and had me convinced that he could change diapers and be my little helper.

I looked forward to my first OB appointment on July 9th and had completely stopped smoking, started eating better, cut back on the Mt. Dew and knew exactly “what to expect now that I was expecting”. Thursdays were the day that my weekly pregnancy updates arrived in my email. I looked forward to opening them to see how baby was growing and changing. I patiently watched baby chance from a zygote, to an embryo, to a fetus. I started shopping and I never stopped. I bought clothes, baby furniture, diapers, toys, baby blankets and everything else that I swore was over-rated and over-priced hype. I spent countless hours sorting through websites full of baby bedding. I fell in love with Cocalo Tropical Punch , Chad agreed and I ordered it. It was pink with cute and cuddly animals. The gender of the baby hadn’t been confirmed by ultrasound yet but we just knew.


So excited on July 12th, 2008 at Rachel & Brandon's Wedding

We saw our baby for the first time on July 30th and were greeted by a wonderfully strong heartbeat of 170 bpm. I was 8 weeks pregnant and it all truly became real.



We had another ultrasound at 9 weeks on August 6th and again, all was perfect. My doctor was concerned about the length of my cervix but it was holding up well.
I was told to watch out for cramping, yet I was plagued by it. I was paranoid and called the office at every sign something was wrong.




Another check on August 19th confirmed that everything was perfect. We were stunned to see how much baby had grown in less than 2 weeks.






I was counting down the days until the 12 week mark approached…the “safe zone” of pregnancy and the beginning of the blissful second trimester. Our baby was nice and cozy and I had an appointment on Tuesday, September 2nd to find out the much anticipated gender. I craved sauerkraut, pickles, salsa and apple juice. I developed the nose of a basset hound. I was starting to show, the morning sickness was subsiding and I was enjoying the excitement and anticipation.

My heart skipped a beat...

My world came to a screeching halt on Saturday, August 30th at noon when I was leaving work and saw blood. I was 13 weeks, 2 days pregnant….how could this happen? I was advised by the on-call doctor that the hospital could do nothing for me and I needed to put my feet up and rest at home. I cried from the time I got home until Chad woke up at 3:30pm. He told me that we didn’t need permission to go to the hospital and took me. They checked me out and found nothing that would indicate why I was bleeding. They easily found the heartbeat on the Doppler and chased the baby around my belly trying to get a read on the bpm. I was sent home w/ the instructions that if the bleeding got heavier to return to the hospital. I was back at the hospital on Monday, September 1st for that very reason. This time, I was given an ultrasound by Chris…the 'my lips must remain sealed until the radiologist interprets the results' ultrasound tech. I was informed by my ER doctor that I had placenta previa. It was what I had been hoping the bleeding was from and went home relieved, knowing that it was unlikely to cause me any problems in pregnancy.

Tuesday, September 2nd was like Christmas Day. I was so excited as Chad, my mom and I drove to the ultrasound clinic in Columbus. I was so excited that I couldn’t wait for the tech to confirm that a daughter was in my belly. After hearing the heartbeat, seeing limbs, counting fingers and toes…we got the news we so impatiently had been waiting for. “It’s a girl!”





I remember biting my lip to fight back the happy tears and looking over at Chad. The ultrasound tech placed our pictures in a pink little envelope and recorded Parker’s heartbeat in a bear.





It felt so great to call her Parker instead of 'baby' or 'it'. I quickly cleared all the gender neutral clothes out of her room and passed them on to a friend having a boy.
On September 9th, I had another ultrasound at my doctor’s office to check my cervix and the placenta previa. The ultrasound tech gave us news that seemed better than I had expected…it wasn’t placenta previa but a subchorionic hematoma. My cervix was holding up well and I was given the instructions to remain on pelvic rest and to return in 5 weeks on October 14, 2008. My doctor seemed less concerned about the hematoma than the placenta previa. Wow…5 weeks, like normal people with normal pregnancies visit their doctors. No more weekly or bi-weekly check ups and ultrasounds.

We had been batting middle names around for months. None of them seemed to fit her. Parker means 'park keeper'. We liked Madison but the cliché of Madison Park seemed cheesy. We like Nevaeh, which is heaven spelled backwards but seemed like a curse. Babies named Nevaeh, Hope, Faith, Destiny and other spiritual names always seem to have lives that end in unexpected tragedy. We felt it best to avoid the stereotype. ~ I have called Jarod "Pooh Bear" since he was born. The name stuck and several people call him that. Of course, the name has been shortened to "Pooh". Several names beginning with "O" came up. I pointed out that we could not give her a middle name begining w/ "O" because her initals would be "POO". Chad laughed and said "So, that's what you call Jarod!" ~

Chad came up with Ellen. It was close to his middle name of Allen yet also like Jarod’s middle name of Ethan. Both of children would share E as their middle initial. Ellen was clearly a girl’s name and I would never have to worry about someone seeing her full name and still mistaking her for a boy. It was sweet but also sophisticated. It was settled and she would be Parker Ellen Oleyar.

I decided to go back to the private ultrasound clinic in Columbus to put some of my fears to rest w/out bothering my doctor. On Sunday, September 14th, I braved the Hurricane Ike wind storm to go. Parker looked great and wasn’t bothered by the hematoma which appeared to be the size of a dime. She was so perfect. I cherished the brief moments that I got to peak inside her world. She sucked her thumb and posed for us during the ultrasound.







I continued to read everything I could find about the hematoma and it continued to bleed. Several times I became frustrated with the fact that I couldn’t make it stop w/ a pill. I just wanted to enjoy my pregnancy w/out having to deal with complications. I convinced myself that I was paranoid and everything was going to be fine. I bought a Fetal Heart Monitoring Doppler Machine and I used it everyday at least once as I crawled into bed. It was a huge piece of mind.



I was feeling her flutter and always looked forward to the next movement I would feel. I was so excited for the movements that Chad and Jarod would be able to feel. Bobbie wanted to take pictures of my belly and I couldn’t wait to see what she had in mind.

Chad and I put the finishing touches on Parker’s room a week later.



We hung border, curtains, and pictures and arranged the room. My mom and I made things to customize the “tropical punch” theme.





Chad and I had assembled the crib weeks earlier and it was so patiently waiting for Parker.








I proudly took pictures. Parker’s room was perfect, her shopping was nearly done and she had the best of everything. I planned to spend the next 20-22 weeks of my pregnancy with the holiday excitement, reading the rest of my books, washing baby clothes, sanitizing the house and enjoying my pregnancy. I couldn’t wait until she could come home and see her room. I hoped that she loved it as much I we hoped she would. As soon as I finished snapping the pictures of the room, I became short of breath.

It took my breath away...

The breathlessness didn’t go away that night and I woke up still short of breath on Monday morning. I called in sick to work and went to my family doctor. I questioned whether I should call my OB but couldn’t possibly see how it could be related to my pregnancy. I spent nearly two hours with my family doctor and did my first breathing treatment. I have never had any type of breathing problem and was amazed by how quickly it came on. I left with a prescription and was told that I had pneumonia in my left lung and was to come back on Friday for a follow up. There were a few times that I had sneezed or coughed that I felt wet. I couldn’t believe that I was having weak bladder issues so early in pregnancy. At one point, I wondered if it could be amniotic fluid but quickly justified how stupid that sounded at 17 weeks. I called in to work on Tuesday as well, hoping that the prescription would soon kick in. I worked my half a day on Wednesday but came home immediately to rest.

When I went to bed that night, I cried myself to sleep. I knew that something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was. The breathing problem perplexed me but I couldn't justify that as the cause of my concern. It was the baby...something just seemed wrong. I listened to Parker for much longer than usual on the doppler. I waited until the next morning and I called my OB and made an appointment for later that Thursday afternoon. Much to my surprise, everything appeared to be fine. I was scheduled for an ultrasound the following Tuesday and I left the office trying to convince myself that everything was fine even though I couldn’t shake the feeling. I went back to work, still worried but feeling silly for not trusting my doctors.

At 4:30, I stood up and felt the familiar, yet petrifying gush. I ran to the bathroom to discover much more blood than normal. Work was over in a half hour and I tried to keep my mind focused. By 7:30, the bleeding had not subsided and I could feel that something really wasn’t right. I finally called my doctor who told me to go to the hospital. The ER department immediately took me upstairs to labor and delivery. The eerie feeling that something was very wrong was starting to take over. The hospital’s ultrasound tech came to my room and made small talk as she set up the machine. I could see the screen with Parker's image on it and carried on a conversation with her on my right and the nurse on my left. Upon looking away from the ultrasound tech for a moment, I noticed that she turned the screen completely out of my view. The nurse asked if I had noticed any amniotic fluid leaking. I immediately thought back to the few times the thought had entered my mind and then my mind began to scatter. The ultrasound tech wished me luck and left. My nurse told me that my doctor was on her way in to see me. That eerie feeling immediately turned to sheer panic knowing that if my doctor was coming in at 11:00pm to tell me what a nurse simply could have, that it was bad. My world stopped moving, my heart was ripped from my chest and time has stood still since that very moment.

My OB confirmed my fears that something was indeed very wrong. I had been leaking amniotic fluid and now it was gone. There was nothing that could be done. I would be given antibiotics and fluids through an IV and we would reassess the fluid levels on Saturday morning. Until then, we prepare for the worst but hope for the best. Her hopes were not high and her fears were very real. To say that we cried would be an understatement. I fell asleep feeling as if my daughter and my dreams had been ripped out from inside me. I spent all day Friday on the internet searching for a way to save her. I found several websites with PROM (premature rupture of membranes)support groups that gave me the courage to think positively and offered hope. I quickly learned why this may have happened, what could happen and what conditions, both maternal and fetal could be happening. I was surprised at how quickly Saturday arrived. It felt like the test that I hadn’t had time to prepare for. At 7:30am, Chris, the tech that I met during my ER ultrasound arrived. His small talk was different this time and the look in his eyes less casual than the first time we met, yet again he was tight lipped. We had to wait several grueling hours for the radiologist to interpret the ultrasound results and my doctor to come in and read it to me.

She arrived around 2pm and there were those words again; "No Fluid". The condition is known as oligohydramnios. She told us what would happen and that we would stop the fluids and antibiotics then wait. Either an infection would force me into labor or Parker would pass away from an infection and be delivered. No one knew how long it would take, but it was bound to happen. We were offered the option to terminate. Those words felt like a knife through my heart. I wanted to kick her off my bed for even thinking of it. I would never ever give up on my baby and she wasn't giving up either. I could still feel her flutters, although much less, and she had a strong heartbeat of 150bmp. We cried harder than we had on Thursday. Any glimmer of hope that we were holding on to was gone in a flash. I was at a loss for words but heard myself say that I wasn’t giving up my IV fluids and I wasn't walking around. They were Parker’s only chance. I asked about the procedures I had read of on the internet, such as amniopatches, Transabdominal Amnioinfusion, gelatin sponge plugs or the possibility of the leak self sealing and they were not possible options at this point because the procedures were experimental and not offered at St. Rita's Medical Center or know to be happening elsewhere. I don’t remember much more of Saturday or Sunday morning other than the fact that my cheeks stayed wet with tears. The hospital was only checking her heartbeat once every 12 hours, so Chad brought my doppler from home so that I could check her myself. The blue gel used for the doppler & ultrasounds is made by a company called Parker and the name is on the bottom of the bottle. Several people came to see us, called, sent emails and started prayer chains. I continued to have blood work done to look for signs of infection and my temperature was taken every 4 hours. I always asked what it was and was relieved to keep hearing that it wasn't going up. I had read about the risk, sepsis was one of them. At some point, I realized that I may have to come to terms with sacrificing her life to save my own. It was a decision that I would never willingly make. I was livid with God, fate, karma, whatever, whoever, my body, myself, etc. I wasn’t willing to give up on my daughter.

One of the responses on my internet forum posts directed me to the Society of Maternal-Fetal Medicine’s Website. I found a “contact us” link and was able to search doctors who specialized in this area in Ohio. All 60 of them that came up on the physician finder received a desperate email from us.

I hoped that at least a few doctors would reply and that maybe one of them would be willing to help me or know someone who could. My noon the next day, over 20 doctors had been in contact, one of which who referred me to a hospital in Pittsburgh, PA. Another 15 emails were sent to every MFM physician in that area as well. I received a call from a Dr. Marcotte at Good Samaritan Hospital in Cincinnati who was willing to do an amnioinfussion. There was also a doctor in Lexington, KY doing amniopatches. It was our only hope and bound to work. The amnioinfussion would find out where the fluid was going. If it was leaking, the doctor in Lexington could patch the hole (he is one of the doctors who did the study linked above on gelatin sponges). Sounded simple enough and it almost seemed as if the sun came out. I was certain that I was not leaking amniotic fluid and my OB sent me home Monday evening on bed rest with an order to drink nearly 100 oz of fluid a day. I would have the procedure done on Friday. On Tuesday, I was examined by my OB and my cervix was still closed and I was showing no sign of infection. On Wednesday, I had another private ultrasound done in Columbus and the tech was able to find a few measurable pockets of fluid but the hematoma was now a little larger than a quarter. I was disappointed to hear that it had nearly doubled in size in less than a month. I lay in bed hopeful that Friday’s amniofussion would find more fluid and no leak. The hematoma was still at the bottom of my worry list even though I now know that it may have been to blame for all this.

I buried myself in research on the computer. Sharing the information that I found w/ friends, family on MySpace, emails, text messages, and even perfect strangers in forum updates was all I had to hold on to. I was very optimistic and promised Parker everyday that I was never going to give up on her. I found websites and people who were dealing with the same problem as I who had healthy babies. For every 1 healthy baby were 10 who didn't make it or had serious health issues. I was prepared for the risks as well as the potential birth defects. I had never thought of myself as someone who would have a child with a physical or mental handicap, yet club feet or ear abnormalities didn’t bother me. I actually looked at them as a trade off for a daughter who could have a functioning set of lungs and kidneys. Even the risk of a mental handicap didn’t alter my thinking; after all she was still my daughter. Another day pregnant was another day closer to saving Parker’s life.

Not here, not now...

Thursday evening arrived and I packed my bags for the hotel stay in Cincinnati because our appointment was at 7:30am the next morning. I didn’t sleep much that night. The bed was uncomfortable; I was nervous, yet excited. I woke up in the morning ready to go and felt so blessed that this doctor had agreed to this experimental procedure. We arrived at the hospital and were given another ultrasound. Again, those words: No Fluid. This time, they had little effect because the amnioinfussion was going to solve my problem. I lay on the table confidently watching the doctor, his intern, the nurse and the ultrasound tech unpacking the tools for the procedure. I don't remember being scared but rather optimistic. Even after the risks of the procedure were explained, I never questioned my decision to continue nor did I look at Chad to make sure that we were still in agreement to continue with it. Infection and inducing labor were mentioned but this had to be the answer to our prayers and I could see no other outcome. Thoughts of my healthy, happy little girl danced in my head as I stared at her on the ultrasound.

The needle that entered my belly didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I had expected. I carefully watched the ultrasound monitor as the fluid was being injected and suddenly, I felt a huge nudge that came from inside my belly. Excitedly, I looked at the ultrasound tech and said “I just felt her move!” and she confirmed that she felt it as well. I glanced over at Chad and I felt very sorry for him. Had he been standing with his hand on my belly, he would have felt that. Had so many people not been blocking his view, he may even have seen it. Once all the fluid was injected, the dye was put in. In the blink of an eye, I felt that feeling again…the gush. I swallowed hard, screamed really loud in my head and looked at the doctor “It’s all running out.” I stammered to say. The ultrasound tech immediately became interested in one area of the screen. The doctor looked at me and stated that he believed I had a prolapsed uterus or amniotic bag and that I was 3 cm dilated. They sent someone to get the tools they needed to examine me. My mind raced and I suddenly imagined myself being forced to give up my baby. “Not here, not now…” I begged of God. I don’t think I took another breath until he said that I was not dilated and nothing was prolapsed. The fluid that came out was clear, meaning that the dye didn't have any time to mix with the fluid before it leaked out. However, what it did mean was that the 3 cm gap was actually the hole in the amniotic sac; Much too big to repair itself and much too big for the amniopatch to work. The doctor told me that I needed strict bed rest, fluids and weekly ultrasounds. I was sent for a shot of RhoGam and more blood work. At this point, I was 19 weeks pregnant and if I could make it to 24 weeks then I would be admitted to Good Samaritan and started on IV fluids and antibiotics and Parker would be given steroids to help with her lung development. Our goal was to get her to 32 weeks. I left the hospital feeling defeated. I think I cried nearly all the way home. I tried so hard to be strong for Chad and keep my sobs quiet and my tears hidden. I made plans to beg my OB for a catheter and IV fluids at home so that I didn't even need to get out of bed. I would get a home health care nurse to change them and exercise my legs. Whatever I needed to do, no matter the cost.... I had to find a way to save my daughter.

We arrived home and I crawled back into bed and fell asleep. Chad took a nap before going in for a short shift at work. He left for work and I finally had some time alone. I spent it crying, bawling actually, yelling and blaming, begging and pleading with God and telling Parker how sorry I was that this was happening to us. At that moment, I realized that I had never hit that low of a spot in my life before. The cramping that I had been feeling on and off all day was now getting stronger. The pain in my back was nearly unbearable and I felt that my body had nothing left to give. I didn’t feel like that when I left the hospital, something changed while I was asleep and even though I wasn’t completely aware of what, I just knew. I pulled myself back together shortly before my mom came over w/ Jarod. I didn’t tell her how I was feeling. Every sip of fluid I took choked me. I swallowed for Parker knowing that my body wasn’t going to retain it. My temperature had been normal at the hospital, but now it was up to 102 degrees. I had taken Tylenol earlier but it wasn't helping the fever or the back pain. Chad arrived home shortly before midnight and I told him that I was crampy but I didn’t tell him that I knew this would be the last night I would spend pregnant.

I didn’t get any sleep. My mind wandered and my heart ached. I stared at Chad in the glow of the television wondering if he would ever be able to look at me the same. When I could no longer ignore the contractions, I started timing them. They were 3 minutes apart by 9am. When I took a shower, I realized that my baby bump was gone; my belly button was back and my stomach was long, hard and flat. I woke Chad up and to tell him that my contractions were close and it was time to go to the hospital. Every pregnant women wonders when she will be able to softly say to her husband “It’s time to go…” but I wasn’t ready to say it. It came out choked in tears. As we left the house, I asked to stop at Wal-Mart so that we could buy a baby doll outfit, knowing that Parker would never fit in anything hanging in her closet. Chad hesitated for a moment, wanting to tell me that it would be okay and we wouldn’t need it but I think he knew that wasn’t true this time. The selection was horrible, the clothes were poorly made and no one should have to shop for their daughter’s first outfit in the toy aisle. I cried for Parker between contractions on the car ride to the hospital. I couldn't cry over the pain because my heart ached so much more than my body. I begged God to prove me wrong and make my labor stop.

Please God, make it stop...

Once again, the ER ushered me up to labor and delivery. The rest of the day is a blur. At one point, the nurse checked me and said that she could feel the baby pressing down but my cervix wasn’t dilated. Ironically, my cervix was still working and had been all along. It had been the center of attention during the pregnancy and the biggest cause for concern. Now, it wasn’t ready to give up on the baby. I was hoping they could make labor stop and I could just return home to my bed, still pregnant. The nurse apologized for sticking me with a needle and it brought tears to my eyes…no one was apologizing to Parker for not saving her. The hospital ordered an ultrasound to check the position of the baby. Once again, Chris the ultrasound tech arrived. Knowing that he couldn’t tell me if any fluid was showing up, I looked for black around the baby on the screen and saw nothing. I must have said it out loud because he looked at me, with sadness in his eyes, and said that I was getting good at this. She was still breech. When he left, he wished me good luck but I knew he was really saying goodbye to me. He knew that he would never do another ultrasound on Parker and all hope was gone. Every contraction was one closer to losing Parker and I couldn’t even imagine what she was feeling. I wondered if she knew that she was dying, if she knew how much we lover her, wanted her, fought for her and were going to miss her. I wondered if she heard all the things I said to her in my mind.

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.

Spirit baby...

The email updates have been canceled, the schedule of Ob/Gyn appointments have been deleted from my calendar and all the baby related items around the house have been banished to the nursery. I still have to cancel the Childbirth class that we were to attend on my birthday and pack up my maternity clothes that were just beginning to fit. I made Parker a scrapbook. I am devastated that my daughter’s entire story fits into a book. We requested that her remains be cremated but I wanted her to have a place her own that I could visit since she would have no burial location. With no way of knowing what I was thinking; Karen, Deidre and Rachel gave us the gift of a beautiful stone with this poem:

“Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones shine down to let us know they are happy.”

As fate would have it, Chad named a star after me for Valentine’s Day this year…the month we started trying to make a baby.



I’m sure that Parker found a new home in my star. We will place her stepping stone in a special garden that we will plant with love next spring, making sure that it has a clear view of the sky. I will treat her stone as our special place to visit her. I found a star to hold her ashes once she is cremated. My musical love has always been Celine Dion and her music has always appropriately fit into my life at the important times. Several lines speak perfectly to her and now I realize why God took her away while she was still inside me instead of at birth:

Lyrics from “Fly” by Celine Dion

Fly, fly little wing
Fly beyond imagining
The softest cloud, the whitest dove
Upon the wind of heaven's love
Past the planets and the stars
Leave this lonely world of ours
Escape the sorrow and the pain
And fly again

Fly, fly precious one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet

Fly, fly do not fear
Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don't wait for me
Above the universe you'll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won't forget

Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light

Several references have been made to having another child. A comment was made while I was in the hospital the first time and I stated that I couldn’t imagine ever going through it again. The doctor that delivered Parker said that we needed to give my body and our hearts six months to heal. I remember thinking “Six months? Six years wouldn’t be long enough. I’m never going through this again”. Yet after only days, I so desperately want to be pregnant again. I want Chad to feel our baby move and talk to my belly. I want our hearts to be full again, our arms wrapped around a baby, to hear the pitter patter of little feet and the laughter of a baby. I want Jarod to read his books, share the toys and the treasured wrist rattles. I feel guilty for feeling this way knowing that one child can’t be replaced with another. I can’t even imagine how Chad is feeling about it. This post was on my message board it brought some validity to my feelings of wanting another baby so soon:

~Chapter Excerpt from Part IV of Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife
~Spirit Baby

"Colin, my twelve-year-old son, discovered me late one rainy afternoon sitting at the kitchen table, a damp Kleenex crumpled in my left hand, wiping my eyes as I tried to compose myself for his sake. It was the third week of January, two months after I'd miscarried a pregnancy, but I still found it impossible to get through a day without at least one meltdown into misery.

Stunned w hen the test came back positive, Rog and I had stared at each other with doubt and ambivalence. At forty-one, my professional life consumed me. I'd just achieved what some had predicted was an impossibility: I'd been granted delivery privileges at Alta Bates, and as a consequence, my midwifery practice burgeoned. Some months I delivered twelve babies, and no one ever knew if or when I'd be home. Rog, too, felt stretched to his limits, keeping his business afloat while picking up the slack for my frequent unscheduled absences. Colin and Jill approached their challenging adolescent years. How could we fit an infant into our lives? But when I lost the pregnancy and all hope for resolution dissolved with my tears, I fell in love with the baby that was not to be.

Colin asked, "Are you crying about the baby?" and when I nodded tearfully, he said, "Well, you just have to have another one, Mom, because it's a Spirit Baby, and you should be its mother."

I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Don't you know about Spirit Babies? How could I know about them if you don't? I mean, you're my mom!" But he could see my perplexity.

So my first child, this not-yet-teenaged boy, pulled a wooden chair to my side and draped his thin arm across my shoulders, saying, "Well, Mom, here's how it is. See, I was one myself, so that must be how I know. Anyway, every woman has a circle of babies that goes around and around above her head, and those are all the possible babies she could have in her whole life. Every month, one of those babies is first in line. If she gets pregnant, then that's the baby that's born. If she doesn't get pregnant, the baby goes back into the circle and keeps going around with all the others. If she gets pregnant but something bad happens before the baby's born…now listen, Mom, because here's the really cool part. It goes back into the circle, but it becomes a Spirit Baby, and all the other babies give it cuts. Each month, it's always first in line. Isn't that great?

"So you just have to get pregnant again, and you'll have the same Spirit Baby. If you don't, though, then the baby circle will just beam that little Spirit Baby over to some other woman's circle, and it'll be first in line for her. It keeps being first in line somewhere until it finally gets born.

"But it'd be a shame for you not to have it yourself, because I know how much you want it. So you just have to try again. Mom, remember that baby you lost before I was born?" I nodded wordlessly. "Well, that was me. Really. I've always known I was a Spirit Baby. I mean, I know what I'm talking about here, Mom."

In spite of Colin's certainty that our household, so often bordering on chaos, lacked only an infant to make things perfect, Rog and I demurred. But Colin didn't give up and even enlisted his sister's support. Driving with them in the car one evening, I looked at my son in the passenger seat beside me. He stared out the side window and tried to hide his tears, but I saw the flush on his face, the shaking of his shoulders, and the surreptitious swipe of hand across cheek.

Six months had passed since my miscarriage, and I had just finished yet another discussion in which I'd told my pleading son that having a third baby at my age was out of the question. I reached over the space between us and squeezed his fingers. "Colin, I don't understand this passion you have for a baby. Why do you want one so much?"

He tore his gaze from the distant hills and looked at me with swimming eyes and trembling lips. In a choking voice, he put all of his twelve-year-old passion into his reply.

"Oh, Mom! Oh. Just for the joy of it!"

Jill stretched forward from the back seat and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Yeah, Mom, just for the joy of it."

It was my turn to look out the side window and struggle with misty vision.
So, at a time when most women eye the empty nest at the end of their branch on the family tree with something approaching relief, I gave consideration to laying just one more egg. Several months of discussions peppered with doubt and disbelief followed. Although Rog and I made the final decision, there's no denying that a big part of our decision to have a third child began with the insistence of our adolescent children that we "needed a baby in the house." Rog and I took a deep breath, looked at each other across the blond heads of those two wishful children, swallowed – and made a giant leap of faith.
I conceived my Spirit Baby a week later. Just for the joy of it."
~End of Story~

Why her, why us, why now...

I don’t know how to get past this. I don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how to deal with my feelings of helplessness and defeat. I'm mad at God. I feel that after everything I have been through in my life, God didn't have the right to take her from me. I don't have a sister, I don't have a sister in law, I deserved a daughter. I can’t help but feel responsible for the fact that my body failed her and I didn’t do enough. Chad has been a rock for me and I can't imagine getting through this without him, yet I’m lonely. I expected that once she wasn’t in my belly, she would be in our arms. Now, we have neither. Her ears were not developed enough to hear, so she never heard our voices. She never got to hear how much we loved her. I never expected to have a hole in my heart. I expected it to swell when I met the third love of my life. I'm not sure if my heart is half empty or if it's gone. I had no idea that it was possible to cry so much or that the tears would keep coming. They feel hot on my cheeks and they are the only sign that I'm not numb. I wonder if it's the karma from all those years I declared that I would never ever, under any circumstances have another child. Was karma going to prove me right?

When the funeral home called to make the arrangements, I started crying before I even answered the phone. I honestly thought that we would get to see and hold our daughter one last time at the memorial service. I was wrong and my heart sank a little deeper when I heard that her body couldn’t be embalmed. We will place her ashes in a star to be hung around the teddy bear that her heartbeat is inside. That teddy bear will be all we have left of our daughter and it too, shall get its angel wings. I remember the day we got that bear; I was so happy because I found out that I would finally have the baby girl I’d been dreaming of. I have slept with that bear every night. I still listen to her heartbeat before I go to sleep, as I did when she was inside my belly.

I wasn't dreading my follow up appointment with my OB until I woke up that morning. It hit me that I would have to go back to the office full of baby joy, pregnant women and happy new mommies. I wouldn't need to be weighed or pee in a cup. No one would ask about my morning sickness or cravings. The physicians assistant that works in the office was pregnant and the sign hanging in the lobby announced that she delivered her daughter on October 11th. I couldn't help but bury my head in Chad's shoulder sobbing, knowing that while my daughter was losing her life, her daughter was beginning her life and probably in the next room. I am happy for her (she's really great) but I didn't want to share that day with anyone else's child. The staff in the office was sympathetic and understanding but making it through the appointment was harder than I imagined. I felt as if this was closing the book on my pregnancy.

We learned that there was an infection in the placenta which was no surprise considering my temperature spike the night my labor began. Every time that I had cramping and went to the doctor, an infection was found and treated. Yet, an infection caused my water to break. Unfortunately, no cultures were done by the hospital so we will never know what type of infection caused it but it is likely that it was there my entire pregnancy. It may have even caused the irritation that prevented the placenta from implanting correctly resulting in the hematoma. The opposite is possible as well and the hematoma may have caused the infection. A study done in 1998 found a condition called Chronic abruption-oligohydramnios sequence.(CAOS) and it has gotten little attention since. I had been bleeding for 5 weeks and blood contains enzymes that break down proteins. The amniotic sac is made up of protein. Clearly, it is obvious that this a series of unfortunate events. I can't help but wonder if the breathing problem that began earlier in the week was somehow related. Otherwise, everything was fine. I suppose that in the back of my mind, I wanted something to be wrong with me so they could fix it...so that I had an explanation and knew this could never happen again. I am told that it is unlikely that it will occur again. An infection seems so dirty, yet so insignificant. My OB says that we can start trying again soon and the six month wait the delivery doctor advised is unnecessary. The thought scares me to death....what if this happens again? My mind races with thoughts as we walked out of the office. Chad took my hand and led me past all the pregnant women in the lobby to the car.

Parker's obituary was in the newspaper, confirming that it is still really happening. I expected to see her name in the newspaper...on a birth announcement in March 2009. This is as close to one as she will get. The day finally came for her memorial service. I had to call my best friend and through sobs ask for the pictures she promised me. They wouldn't be of my stomach but rather of my daughter's memorial service. Bobbie agreed. Pastor Steve did a wonderful job and shared some wonderful words. I made a cd of music to be played, two bulletin boards full of photos and her scrapbook.





I brought the blanket and hat that she was given at the hospital. Many of our friends & family members were there to support us.








Chad's boss had a blanket made w/ one of the police patches and her name and birthday is embroidered in it. I'm sure that meant more to Chad than he will ever know.



Niki gave me a beautiful bracelet with a poem that gives words to the hole in my heart. I ordered a bracelet made of pink and blue (March birthstone) beads that says 'Cherish Forever'. It also has the infant and pregnancy awareness loss ribbon on it. The bracelet is beautiful. Rachel added the charm from Niki's necklace, the star charm that holds a few of Parker's ashes and another charm that has baby feet on one side and on the other side, the following:
Parker Ellen
21 weeks too soon
10-11-08
www.MyForeverChild.com



For sweetest day, I had an necklace engraved for Chad w/ the following:

Parker Ellen
"Daddy's Little Girl"
10-11-08

He cried when he opened it and he never takes it off.


The flowers, figurines and throw that others sent were beautiful.






We had prepared a card with her photo inside and a cd of the music we played for our friends & family to take. I just don't want anyone to forget her face, her birthday, her story or the love that we have for her. I brought all the flowers home and placed them in her room, wishing desperately that they were welcoming her birth.

We have her ashes in our possession and it does feel better to have "her" back. I ordered Angel wings for her bear and my Mom attached them and put her bag of cremains inside it. She is whole again, heartbeat and all:


In this picture, she is wearing the star charm that is now on my bracelet. A star, that to me, signifies her being our star in the sky. (Image made by one of the girls on Baby Gaga, one of the many forums I have received so much support from.)


The funeral home gave us a copy of her fetal death certificate and I was relieved to see that her name is one it. No one at the hospital had asked for her name, again treating her like a miscarriage. The cause of death was listed as Fetal cardiac arrest due to premature birth caused by premature rupture of membranes" and it took my breath away. Cardiac arrest seems painful, scary and traumatic. I pictured her passing away peacefully while she slept and now I have this vision of a heart attack running through my head. I found out that she was 10.5" long and weighed 191 grams (less than half a pound or 6.7 ounces)...just like the books said she would.

I expected the service to offer closure for me, but it didn't. I feel that this is the end of the road for Parker's story....almost as if I am forced to move on. I didn't expect that I would feel that way.


(Image made by one of the girls on Baby Gaga, one of the many forums I have received so much support from.)

I feel so sorry for Jarod. We waited to tell him about Parker until the day of the memorial service because we didn't want him to go through the pain more than he needed to. Memorials and funerals are hard enough for adults, let alone a 7 year old. An hour before the service, we sat him down and explained that Parker was sick and that was why I was in the hospital and had to stay in bed. We went on to say that Parker was too sick to stay inside my belly and had to come out. She was too little to be out of my belly and now she is in heaven. He looked at me and asked "So, she died?" I answered and he immediately broke into tears, hugging us. We showed him her pictures and told him that we were going to her memorial service to say goodbye. He kept one of her pictures in his pocket and cried into her bear all the way to the funeral home. It was sad to look at him and know that I couldn't make his pain go away. He told us that now he had to go tell all his friends that he wasn't going to have a baby sister and that made him sad. He asked if he would ever have a baby brother or sister because he still really wanted one. I thought back to the "spirit baby" story and I so badly wish I knew the answer to his question. We read a book with him called "I wonder what you do your first day in heaven?" and he seemed to understand that she is there. We told him that Art & Ruthie are taking care of her. Pastor Steve made reference to the fact that our loved ones stay together waiting for us. Before bed, Jarod asked me if I put the doppler up to my belly if I could still hear a heartbeat. I told him that Parker wasn't in my belly so there would be no heartbeat there. He looked at the bear and said "Good thing we moved it to here then." He's right, that $25 bear turned out to be one of most important purchases I've ever made.

We took him to Build-A-Bear to make his own special bear to remember Parker by. To my surprise, the same bear the we have from the ultrasound was available there. He immediately selected it and didn't look at the other options. The employee asked him if he wanted to give his bear a sound. My heart broke when he asked her to put a heartbeat inside. I teared up knowing that there was no way this women could put Parker's heartbeat in his bear. She did give him a heart that pulsates but makes no sound. He was happy with that and chose a pink t-shirt and bow, diaper and bib for his bear. We left there, with his bear named Parker, born on October 11th in a baby carrier made for the bear. He proudly wore it all around the mall and to dinner. When we arrived home, I saw him enter Parker's nursery. I went in to see what he was doing and his bear was laying in the crib and he was turning the mobile. He looked at me and asked where the treasured wrist rattles were. (Another item that I couldn't bring myself to return.) There were tears in his eyes and sadness on his face. I took for granted that he would love and miss her as much as Chad and I do. He is so much wiser than I give him credit for. I'm sure his bear means as much to him as the other one does to us. On the night of trick or treat, he fell asleep in his Halloween costume, with his bear.

If I'm living my life, then I am not hurting enough for her's....

I have been thinking a lot about the spirit baby story and wondering if I trust in faith enough to believe the story is true. I have nothing to lose by believing in it and some huge part of me is desperate to believe it. Not many people know that I had a miscarriage when I was 16 years old. I was around 8 weeks or so and that miscarriage may have actually saved Jarod's life because I discovered that I was RH negative. I know that it was for the best and that my life would have dramatically changed. It taught me a lesson that I needed to learn the hard way at that time in my life. Until recently, I had nearly forgotten about that miscarriage and was ashamed to even have to admit it, even when medically necessary. Losing Parker has caused me to think about that child as well and recall the feelings of loss that I had then. I always felt that child was a boy and I have no problem believing that Jarod is also a spirit baby. It may explain why Jarod is so much older than his years. Ironically, it wasn't until after Jarod was born that I was able to get over that miscarriage. Maybe I knew that Jarod was my spirit baby and that is why I have been able to move on.

I can feel myself changing. When I see others, I look at them differently. I wonder what is on their minds and if their heart aches with something, the same way that mine does. I can't smile as easily and I can't get the sadness out of my eyes. I have also developed the "ability" to decide who deserves their pregnancies and babies and who doesn't. I know that I do not have this right, but I can't keep my mind from racing. A walk through the mall to buy Chad a sweetest day gift yields pregnant teenagers, mothers chasing around and yelling at multiple children who are covered in dirt wearing clothes that don't fit and others who coo at their babies while pushing them through the stores. I inventory them in my mind and either "approve" or "decline" their right to be a parent. Then I become frustrated with God, fate or maybe karma that it's just not fair. If God doesn't give you more than you can handle, I'd like to know when his cruel joke is going to end. Apparently, he gives me more credit than I deserve.

Life must go on and we must find a way to continue on with our lives. Will life go back to normal and Parker be forgotten amongst the challenges of daily life? Will my tears dry up? I'm afraid that if I'm living my life, I'm not hurting enough for hers. I struggle to get through each day, feeling as if I am swimming in jello. I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other. The last 24 days of my life seem like a blur. I feel trapped in the moment on my first visit to the hospital when I waited for my doctor to arrive. A few days ago, I was gazing out the window, crying for Parker and I noticed a rainbow. It wasn't raining and had been sunny all day. I called Chad over to verify that it really was there. I wondered if it was her telling me that she made it to heaven. I smiled and wiped the tears from my cheeks. When we were going over the memorial arrangements with Pastor Steve, I cried for her again. Outside the patio doors, I heard the wind pick up and wrestle the patio umbrella for a moment. It got my attention and again, there had been no wind gust all day and there were no more after that. I truly believe that she is at peace and God only takes the best. I'm jealous and upset that he thought heaven needed her more than we did.

Sorry I didnt get to stay,

To Laugh and run and play.

To be there by your side,

I'm sorry I had to Die.

God Sent me down to be with you,

to make your loving heart anew.

To help you look up and see

both God and little Me.

Mommy, I wish I could stay.

Just like I heard you pray

But, all the angels did cry

When they told little me goodbye.

God didnt take me cause he's mad.

He didnt send me to make you sad.

But to give us both a chance to be

A love so precious..dont you see?

Up there no trouble do I see

and the pretty angels sing to me

The streets of gold is where I play

You'll be here too, mommy, someday.

Until the day you join me here,

I'll love you mommy, dear.

Each breeze you feel and see,

Brings love and a kiss from me..

DEATH OF A CHILD by Sandy Eakle

(Image made by one of the BG ladies)

10/24/08: One day at a time...

10/24/08
I went back to work today with the help of Xanax. My doctor had given it to me the day after I had Parker and I hadn't taken it. I didn't take it because I had no idea what it would do to me and honestly, I wanted to feel whatever it was that I was going to. I needed to be able to make it through the awkwardness, keep my mind focused and make it through the day.I didn't want to come back. I didn't think that I was ready. I also knew that I was not ever going to feel better sitting in my pajamas all day w/out a shower, crying into a scrapbook.

I chose to come back at the end of the week, knowing I would be in a meeting for half the day. I would only have to face the members, many who had been asking about me, for a few hours. I will work tomorrow for three and a half hours, catching up on misc items. Monday & Tuesday I will be at a seminar in Columbus. Wednesday is my day off. This gives me almost another week to get back to into the groove of things. Being gone for three weeks felt like a lifetime when I walked into my office this afternoon...yet lying at home, losing my daughter felt as if it happened overnight. Again, time has stood still in that sense for me since I learned that my water broke.

I laughed several times this morning at my meeting. I thought of Parker, but I didn't feel the need to cry when she came to my mind. I focused on the meeting. I returned to my office and realized just how much I actually missed my staff and my job. It's the one place that is almost an escape. It's the one place where I was defined as something other than a mother. I may be the division manager, I may be a teller, I may be a bitch but I work behind a 4 1/2 foot counter all day...so I'm not the pregnant one.

I had the option of hiding in my office all day, fiddling with paperwork that could wait or cleaning, etc but I chose to put a drawer in and go to the teller line. It was the first time since losing Parker that I actually wanted to see and talk to people. I waited on member after member who probably had no idea that I have a huge hole in my heart. Yet, it seemed as if everyone spoke softer, looked me in the eye and shared my pain. For the first time in a long time, I took appreciation that everyone else has something going on as well that weighs heavy on their hearts. I have the ability to use my discretion and make judgment calls at work but normally, I stick to the policy. I listen to what the members tell me, but I find few circumstances that warrant my signature on an exception. Today, I didn't just listen, but I heard what they said. In the time that I have spent at the credit union, I have gained a firm grasp of the difference between BS and a legitimate issue. I know when something isn't right and the story doesn't jive. I pay attention to what goes on and follow member habits. I feel that we do a wonderful job of protecting the credit union and the members. It's not that I didn't care before about their problems, it was that I didn't sympathize with them. I guess it's part of one of the two changes that I described I was going through.

I picked Jarod up after work and there was his bear. I was sad again and I cried on the way home. I walked into her room and her crib is still empty. Her flowers still litter the house. I spent awhile moving them around to different locations. I cleaned the house and I started laundry. I made plans for tomorrow that do not consist of sitting in my pajamas feeling sorry for myself. I have to get up everyday, I have to do my hair and make-up. I have to smile for Jarod. I have to make sure that I don't take my son and my husband for granted. I love them more than life itself and have to make sure they know that.

I made the decision today that I will not allow Parker's death to be in vain. I don't know what I'm going to do, how or when. I will find a way to keep her memory alive. I'll let you know what I decide.

11/10/08: One foot in front of the other...

11/10/08
I made the decision today that I will not allow Parker's death to be in vain. I will find a way to keep her memory alive. I have decided to do some volunteer work at The Women's Center in Sidney. I had been feeling drawn there and couldn't shake the feeling. The center had came up numerous times in the past weeks and I could no longer avoid it. I had no idea what to say when I walked in and felt very awkward. I spent some time w/ the director and I am very excited w/ what they offer. They are firmly pro-life and have such wonderful programs. I am hoping to start the "Mentor Mommy" training at the first of the year. I will be working to educate and support other mommies during all stages of the pregnancy and after the baby comes. I may also be able to teach a few courses, one of them being the Natural Family Planning that we used to get pregnant. I can also give pregnancy tests and counsel women after they receive the results. It's a great program that has so very much to offer. I am looking forward to it. I also went to the Right to Life Society and offered them Parker's pictures to use.

11/11/08

Today is the one month mark. It is also Veteran's Day, so the bank is closed. I spent the day at home and the girls on BabyGaga.com made the imagines w/ her pictures that are on the page. I thought about her much today and I felt as if I could feel her w/ me. I wished on her star this evening.

11/13/08
Today was my 24 week mark. This was the day that I needed to make it to in order to be admitted to Good Sam Hospital. I remember being told this on 10/10/08 and thinking it seemed so close. However, today looking back, it seems so far away and so impossible. I'm glad that I had hope and strength then. I went to my baby website and I read where she would be in her development at this point. It talked a lot about lung development. Her precious little lungs were on my mind all day and I kept thinking back to the wording we chose to use for her obituary..."without wasting a breath". After work I came home, opened the door to her room and sat there for a few moments. It's so cold in there from having the door closed. I cleaned her room. I put away all the misc items, threw away the dead flower arrangements from the memorial. I placed the angel figurines all around the room and put away all the gift tags, cards and items from the service.


((I took this picture 7 times and every time it came out blury. The only picture that is like this, is the angel one....))







I hung the bullentin boards that I made for the service on the wall in the place where her ultrasound pictures had hung. They are now in her scrapbook and the wall was empty. I put all the pregnancy related items & books in the closet. I dusted and vacuumed. I opened the blinds. I didn't kick the cat out when he came it. He immediately crawled into her crib and for the first time, I let him lay there. Maybe even the cat misses her.



The door doesn't need to be closed anymore. Her room will no longer be the "off limit's dungeon" of our home.

Of all days, I received a special package today. Inside was a note that said "Sorry it's late, it took forever to arrive." Inside was an angel figurine sent by my friend Amber, whom I went to high school w/. She has a son that is in school w/ Jarod and in August delivered her second child, a daughter. The figurine was an angel w/ a child that read:
"No farewell words were spoken, no time to say goodbye, you were gone before we knew it, and only God can tell us why. It broke my heart to lose you, but you didn't go alone, for a part of me went with you on the day that God called you home."




I now know why the hole in my heart is there. Parker took that part w/ her, as she deserved. I know that she has a piece of Chad & Jarod's as well as so many others. She knows how much she was loved and she can feel it. I imagine her in heaven w/ Art & Ruthie....maybe they are raising the child they never had. I find the oxymoron of 'Whole' and 'Hole' to be so odd. Can it be that my hole is their whole? One can only look to heaven and hope it is so. The last time I saw Uncle Art was at a restaurant when I was only a few months pregnant. He rubbed my belly, congratulated us excitedly on the pregnancy and gave me a hug.

At this point, I question my decision to not have Jarod brought to the hospital to have seen and held his baby sister. At the time, I didn't think he could handle it or that we should put him though it. Now, I feel as if he needed it for some type of closure and his own comfort. It's too late now, but if I had it to do over I would respect that fact that he comprehends, understands and feels so much more than I will ever realize.

I get emails and messages everyday from women everywhere who tell me how strong I am and what a hero I was to my daughter. Although I appreciate their support, I don't feel that way. I know that any other woman in my position would have done the same thing. It's easier to keep going than it is to give up. I googled Parker's name today and was absolutely taken back by what came up. I found her story all over random message boards on the internet posted by other women who had stumbled across her story and were offering it as support for other women. I cried....for several reasons. I wrote her story so that I could have a release but more importantly because I didn't want anyone to forget about her. I was so afraid that her memory would slowly drift out of people's minds and her loss weigh less on the heart. I didn't ever want her to be forgotten. The fact that our story is helping others cope w/ their loss in any sort of way warms my heart. Women that I have never met send me such kind words of thanks. To those women, Thank you back. You have no idea what those messages mean to us. We can't tell you how much we appreciate that you took the time to read her story, pray for us and think of her. I keep hearing that she is imprinted in their hearts and playing in heaven w/ their angel babies. I have no choice but to believe that is absolutely true. I have met so many women in different stages of the grieving process who have been very helpful and supportive. I have one friend now who is also in the "bitter" stage w/ me and we can appreciate and justify the others frustration, anger, resentment and pain. It's helpful to not feel alone and to have someone else tell me that it's okay to feel this way because they understand exactly what I mean even though I can't explain.


(Image made by one of the BG ladies.)

My Forever Child:

You are a precious child created out of love, a blessing from above.
I've adored you from the start and your little footprints have touched my heart.
A single teardrop represents the millions I have cried.
My life never the same since you died.
I wish you could have stayed longer with me.
I'd watch you grow into all you could be.
Although we are apart, You are always in my heart.
I dream of a joyful time when we will be reunited once again.
Thoughts of you make me smile. You will always be my forever child.

~Susan Mosqera www.MyForeverChild.com