October: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

My baby shower was beautiful. My baby shower was hosted by my amazing sister with so much love. My baby shower was Pinterest worthy. My baby shower was one of the hardest events I ever attended.

On January 3rd, 2015 almost 50 of the most important and influential women in my life gathered together at the stunning Duke Mansion in Charlotte, North Carolina to celebrate our upcoming arrivals and enjoy a wonderful tea party. Every detail was thought through from the delicate tea sandwiches to the baby rose bouquet favors. We were showered with beautiful gifts and love.

The reason I say it was one of the hardest events for me to attend is because exactly one month prior was the worst day of my life. The day we found out our precious daughter, Ashley, was gone.

On December 2nd I underwent an extremely complicated surgery to correct TTTS. The day before the surgery I was so full of hope as I laid on a table for three hours as they did the most intense ultrasound of our triplets. They studied each baby for an entire hour. They noted cord blood flow, exact position in the womb, and took more measurements then I could ever understand. The doctors and their team created a game plan for their surgery to laser my placenta to give each baby their own "piece" and this would hopefully correct the disproportionate blood supply the babies were sharing. The doctors were so optimistic. We had traveled to Miami, Florida to be with some of the best fetal surgeons who had performed this miracle procedure countless times but we were in the triplet category. Triplets suffering from TTTS was considered even more rare. We were told by our team at that moment in time, there were probably only five other cases of triplet-to-triplet transfusion syndrome on earth. On earth. This fact was startling to my husband and I. We knew it was rare to conceive spontaneous identical triplets and now we are finding out we had hit the extremely unlucky jackpot of having TTTS. (I will go more in-depth about TTTS in December since it's TTTS awareness month.)

After the surgery my team of doctors applauded and cheered. They were so happy with the results. Everything had gone really well. The crazy part about this type of surgery is I was awake the entire time. Just like with a C-Section except my husband was not allowed in the operating room. I have never been more scared because I could hear every word they were saying while performing the intricate procedure. I started to hysterically cry tears of relief and happiness when they told me it was a success. I was still strapped down to a table so the kindest nurse wiped my face and squeezed my hands while they finished stitching me up with surgical glue.

The "congratulations" continued as they wheeled me to the recovery room. Doctors and hospital staff were a haze as we moved down the hallway. I did not realize during the procedure the amount of people who were in attendance to witness the surgery but realized it was a learning experience for so many since it is a rare occurrence. I pray today the nurses and doctors who witnessed the successful procedure will also be able to save lives by replicating the surgery.

I was waiting patiently for the medical team to do all post-op protocol so my husband and parents could soon join me. I was already throwing up again but that was pretty normal since I had been sick my entire pregnancy. I looked up and saw the three happiest faces ever walking through the double doors to the post op room when it happened. All the sudden I felt a little gush. This did not make sense and I immediately told the doctor. After that everything seemed a blur. My family was rushed out again and a flurry of people started moving quickly around me. I went from sitting up to back down and they immediately wheeled me to the nearest ultrasound machine and started to conduct tests. My husband was then able to join me when we found out our precious baby A's sac had ruptured. We were hoping I could be taken to emergency surgery right away to repair the rupture but unfortunate circumstances halted this hope. We had to wait and see if after 24 hours we could do more to save Baby A, our precious Ashley.

I will never forget the last moments I was able to see her wiggling around on the ultrasound machine. I would have never let them turn it off if I had known the next time I would see her again she would be forever still. 

We found out Ashley had passed on the morning of December 3rd. I do not think I can ever recreate the guttural sound that left my body when the doctor told us she was gone. I remember looking around the room and seeing my husband's eyes lose the twinkle that is always present. My parents were crushed and my mom immediately called my sister to tell her our terrible, new reality. I felt like I was in the middle of a horrible nightmare. All I wanted to do was sleep with the hope of when I wake I would still have three live and happy babies growing inside of me. 

We left Miami four days later and I was on strict bed rest. My family and I have never really been completely open about how awful the next few weeks were for us. We had some complications after the surgery and I was in and out of the hospital more times than I like to remember. I had frequent doctors appointments to monitor our survivors and the position of Ashley too. Each time the ultrasound screen would light up I felt like I was holding my breath and praying there would still be two heartbeats. 

I could not bring myself to speak with anyone other than my immediate family and medical team throughout the entire month of December 2014. My close friends called to offer support and condolences and I could not answer. I was able to text but I knew I was not ready to speak to anyone about our loss and the current state of my pregnancy. I missed both of my best friends baby showers that month due to being on bed rest and I knew my sadness would cast a dark shadow over any happy event. 

I had a constant internal battle about canceling my shower. The invites were sent out exactly a week before I was diagnosed with TTTS. I was originally so excited about the invite and how the stationary company created the cutest poem about "three gifts from above." After Ashley passed, I did not even want to see the invite on my parents refrigerator because it was another contstant reminder of the loss of our baby. I was honestly hoping my doctor would say the shower would be too much stress and strain for me to handle. Unfortunately, he "prescribed" me the party and said it would be good for me to be around loved ones for a couple hours. 

The morning of my party my dear husband drove me to the home of a local hair/makeup artist so she could help me get ready for the shower. He was hoping this would cheer me up and make me more excited about our special day. It did so much more for me than he could have ever imagined. It forced me to talk to the first person outside of my inner circle in an entire month. The hair/makeup artist was so kind and understanding. At first I did not want to open up but she made me feel comfortable and I told her my story. It was almost a sense of relief to talk to a stranger about our baby and her surviving sisters. I told myself I could face the crowd of people waiting for us at The Duke Mansion and I would do it with grace. 

The shower was wonderful. I was elated to see my close friends and family all together in the same room. The event made me escape my sadness for some time and almost feel a sense of normalcy. I tried to hold myself together the entire time I was opening the most beautiful and heartfelt gifts. It was hard to see everything in two's instead of how I pictured in three's. I felt like I had played the part of the happy, pregnant lady well until right after the last gift was opened. I looked up to say thank you to all the guests for attending and I was hit with such a raw, wave of emotion. I can blame pregnancy hormones but I started to cry as I thanked them all for not only attending my shower and the thoughtful presents but also for being so supportive over the last month. I honestly cannot recall everything I said between the sobs but I was hoping the message was clear. I was thankful for my village. 

A weird feeling came over me as I cried and thanked everyone endlessly. I looked around the room and realized that at least one guest at each table had suffered a similar loss. It was like a ray of light shined down on each of my friends and family members who were all part of this unfortunate sisterhood of pregnancy and infant loss. I knew they really understood me. They could see my pain. They live with their own sadness and could honestly feel mine. Many might have been thinking of their own loss as I spoke about my baby. I went from feeling so alone to being comforted knowing that I wasn't because unforuntately so many of my friends before me, and sadly after me now too, have endured their own loss. 

Realizing I was not alone also introduced me to the stigma around pregnancy and infant loss. It is so true you do not understand until it happens to you. I know all women who have experienced pregnancy and infant loss wish we did not have to induct another single member to our unfortunate club. Statistically speaking, 1 in 4 women will experience pregnancy loss. The guests at my baby shower alone were an exact representation of this horrible statistic.

So what should we do to support each other? Speak about the loss. Acknowledge it. Don't feel like (collective) you shouldn't talk to people about their loss. When you acknowledge the loss it shows the woman you know her baby existed. Don't try to be the silver lining. Say you are sorry. Say it sucks. Say it isn't fair. Don't say she should focus on the positive. She knows this. She is trying with every ounce of her soul to do this. Being told to be positive makes it even harder because you're not acknowledging that she is already trying. Don't tell her to be thankful for what she already has; a supportive family and/or existing children. One of the most hurtful comments made to me after announcing our loss was from someone who followed me on social media and told me, "to have a wonderful Christmas knowing you still have two beautiful baby girls." I knew I still had two precious babies. I was mourning their sister we lost. I was blaming myself and felt like my body had failed me, failed Ashley and then ultimately failed emmy and elle because they were born way too soon. Women do not need to be reminded to be grateful for what they have but they do need you to be aware of what they have lost, a piece of their heart.

I recently read an article written by a woman who lost her brother and said she can think of her life now in two parts, before his death and after. I feel like this is an accurate way of describing pregnancy loss. You are never a whole person again after suffering a loss and it's so difficult when it's a loss of someone you created. A women loses a bit of her optimism. A slice of hope for the future is gone. And for some reason women are expected to bounce back and move on. What everyone needs to remember is we did not just lose a baby. We lost a lifetime. We lost the first day of kindergarten. The first dance recital. The first skinned knee that can be cured with just a kiss. The first, "I love you mommy." My husband lost walking a daughter down the aisle to her happily ever after. We lost seeing her become a teacher or a doctor or whatever her heart desired. Most importantly, emmy and elle lost their sister.

A woman will never forget her due date. She will never forget her baby or the moment when she was told she lost her baby. So please, don't make her try. Show empathy to others you know are walking the same path. 

Personally, I am in an even stranger category of pregnancy loss because I lost one of my identical multiples. I play along with the stigma each time I call my girls twins instead of triplets. I call them twins not to shield myself from the pain but to make it less awkward and uncomfortable for others. I want people to celebrate my survivors because they are miracles. I know emmy and elle are triplets. I will never forget this fact for the simple reason that it is literally on every medical document because it is part of them. It is them. They are identical triplets. Some days this fact makes it even harder for me to cope with our loss because I know what Ashley would have looked like and I have a good idea of what her personality would have been like too. I am caught staring off by my husband often and when he asks me what I am thinking it is always the same, "there should be three beautiful girls here right now" participating in whatever activity we are currently doing from bath time to playing together in the backyard. I am not sharing this for anyone to give me sympathy. I am only sharing this intensely personal story because I hope it will help raise awareness about pregnancy and infant loss and to hopefully help break the stigma that surrounds this subject. I want our story to give others hope. Hope for future babies, through pregnancy, surrogacy, fostering, or adoption. Hope that your heart can heal even though you will never forget. Hope that one day you can write your own story of survival and how you overcame a dark time and can walk again in the light. Hope for your baby(s) that was born too soon and has a rough start to life. This is my hope for all women who are walking this similar path and lastly, I hope this post will help others by continuing the conversation that has been started by countless people before us.

Thank you for reading part two of my four part series devoted to awareness months that make up the story of my family. Your support means the world to me and I encourage you to share your story to help others too. 

Presbyterian hospital was able to take Ashley's tiny footprints before she was taken to the funeral home. A local stoneworker etched them into this beautiful piece of granite. We are forever thankful to them for giving us this perfect gift. The pink heart is her tiny urn. The ultrasound picture is one of my favorites of Ashley from the countless that were taken during my pregnancy. On october 15th We lit a candle in honor of our daughter we lost and we lit a candle in REMEMBERANCE of all babies lost.