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 1st
that I needed to go to the hospital. I was having painful back labor and
dehydration. I wasn’t admitted until November 2nd, 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 5th.
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 10th, 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.
