May 7, 2016 - When I Became a Mother

My first baby was a gift from God. Blessed with beautiful hands, perfect kissable lips, chubby cheeks…Kassidy was my lesson on life and even death, while trusting in His plan.

My husband and I were at my scheduled 12 week appointment at my OB, when they couldn’t find our baby’s heartbeat with a Doppler. An ultrasound a few minutes later showed a little heart beating away, but also indications that something wasn’t right. I broke down into tears when we were told that our baby had an omphalocele, and that we were being referred to a specialist. Our first baby’s organs were growing in a sac on the outside of her body. It was a severe case. I struggled to eat and sleep awaiting my specialist appointment 3 days later. We arrived, sat for a long and tedious ultrasound and waited in a quiet room for an hour before the doctor emerged with news that was even worse than we could have ever imagined.

“Your baby’s omphalocele is close to the size of the baby itself.” I couldn’t breathe. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. The doctor continued, “That is the least of your worries. Your baby has anencephaly.” She explained that our baby’s skull did not develop. Her brain was exposed, she had no chance of life outside of the womb, and that my amniotic fluid would slowly damage her brain. I felt so confused. How could this be happening? This kind of stuff didn’t happen to people I knew, let alone me. What were my options? The doctor said it was up to me. 90%+ cases of anencephaly were aborted, but carrying the baby wouldn’t cause any health concerns to me. There were no treatment options, just comfort care. I was told I’d most likely miscarry.

I prayed, cried, prayed and cried. I knew every life is precious and God’s plan. There was a reason this was happening to me. I was chosen to be this baby’s mother. We told my OB that we were carrying this baby to term. The following months consisted of doctor’s appointments, loss of sleep, anger even, and planning for my daughter’s death. I began to focus on memory making. Scheduling a photographer to come to the hospital after her birth, choosing her one and only dress, journaling my emotions and reaching out to mothers of anencephaly angels consumed me. Then, I began to feel her kicking. She didn’t do it very often, but when she did, I felt complete unconditional love for the little girl I had been given. I looked forward to seeing her face.

At about 28 weeks along, we met a local neonatologist that had experience with anencephalic babies. We were told that after seeing my ultrasounds that our baby had less than 30% of her brain, which typically would indicate that if our baby were born alive, she wouldn’t be able to see, hear, feel any pain, or feel anything at all. To this day, I can’t decide if that information made me feel better or worse.

On Halloween 2012, I was sitting in my driveway handing out candy to all of the trick-or-treaters. I thought about Kassidy and how she would never get the chance to trick or treat. I was having contractions all evening, and thought it may be because of my emotions and that maybe I needed to drink more water. It was clear by mid-morning on November 1^st that I needed to go to the hospital. I was having painful back labor and dehydration. I wasn’t admitted until November 2^nd, and labored for several days while being monitored for infection since my water was leaking. I was given Pitocin and an epidural, and Kassidy was born on November 5^th.

 At about 2:30pm, the nurses told me that it was time to begin pushing. I asked for one last heartbeat check on Kassidy, then they found her heart beating strong. That was the last time I heard her heartbeat. I pushed an exhausting 2 hours, since she didn’t have a skull, there was no pressure on my cervix. At 4:16pm, Kassidy was born sleeping. She was only 2lbs 11oz and 12.5 inches long. My husband baptized her, and a photographer came in and took our first and only family photos with her. Our families visited, took turns holding her, and our Priest also visited and prayed with us. I felt relief for the first time since her initial diagnosis. I knew she was safe and with God. Her entire time on earth was with me. She knew my love, she was never cold, never hungry, never alone. I was a MOTHER.

Kassidy wore a gown and a hat the whole time we held her, and she looked like a typical premature baby girl. She was wrapped in blankets and held her grandfather’s rosary in her hand. We left the hospital the next day, and immediately made funeral arrangements. It was very difficult to leave the hospital empty handed.

On November 10^th, we laid Kassidy to rest. It rained that morning, but it was a beautiful and peaceful day. I had a feeling of…”what now?” when I arrived at home later that evening. Grief presented itself in unexpected ways the days, weeks and months that followed. I felt guilty when I would smile or laugh, as I didn’t feel it was right to do so when my daughter wasn’t there. It dawned on me one day that Kassidy would want me to be happy. I knew she was watching over us all the time, even when were surprised with another pregnancy just 10 weeks later.

My first rainbow baby, born just 10 months and 9 days after Kassidy, was a little healthy boy named Steven. He is a miracle. He healed me of the pains of being a mother with no baby on earth. He is now an energetic 2.5 year old toddler that loves dinosaurs and counting to ten. My second healthy rainbow boy, Beau, is now a 14 month old chunk of snuggly love who loves music. My third rainbow is due in October. I feel immensely blessed and thankful for each one of my four children.

Kassidy made me a mother, she made me stronger in my faith and taught me to value and protect all life, no matter any diagnosis. Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers. Those who have children on earth or children in heaven, and even to women who have mothers on earth and mothers in heaven. Being a mother is not easy, but it is worth it a million times over. Being a mother is the true definition of unconditional love.