Life Isn't Fair: Rosie's Journey Part 2. Her Birth story
We found out that our tiny daughter, Rosie was going to be born sleeping on Monday, August 4th, 2014. This is the second miscarriage we have had in two years, though this is the first one that baby was far enough along to actually deliver.
The induction was scheduled for the next day at the Birthing Center. We arrived promptly at 7 a.m. The lady behind the desk was very prompt at getting things in order and us to our room. Good for me, because there was a tiny newborn sleeping in a bassinet right behind her. Talk about a knife to the gut. She led us back to our room, at the end of one of the wings. I think they did that purposefully to keep us away from the babies, which was appreciated. I noticed as I walked in that there was a little sign to the right of a leaf on a purple background with a drop of water on it. That was there to alert those walking in that we were delivering a stillborn.
She walked us in and gave instructions, and gave us her sincere sympathies as she was exiting. We received a ton of sympathy from everyone there. Everyone who walked in either offered works of caring and concern, and several of the nurses walked over and just gave me a hug. It was truly the nicest experience at a hospital I have ever had. I had no idea how wonderful they would be. They honestly cared about me and the situation.
The midwife who took care of the induction was also just as amazing. She introduced herself with a hug, explained everything that would happen and made sure we didn't have any questions before we began. Her description was right on the money. She said that it would most likely take 2 or 3 doses of the medication before things would happen. She also said that once things got rolling, I would most likely be in a lot of pain for about an hour, and then it will be done. She stated that they would give me whatever medication I needed to help with pain, but didn't recommend an epidural, just because the worst part was generally very short lived. She placed the first pill and said she would be back in after four hours had passed for the next dose.
Ken and I made small talk and tried to keep our minds off of what was going on. Ken expressed that he didn't want to see or hold her. I was OK with that. Everyone grieves in their own way. I had spent a few hours on the internet the night before, so I knew what to expect as far as how she would look. The first four hours wasn't too eventful, but in the last hour I started cramping a bit, so they started my IV.
Those who know me know that IV starts are usually a fiasco, and this was no different. Three tries by nurses yielded nothing more than sore arms, so they turned me over to an anesthesiologist. She managed to start it the first try, which was nice and not as painful as typical. The labs they drew after were a different story. The doctor who put in the IV stated that drawing off of it would be a bad idea. So they called lab to try to find another place for blood. What a joke. I have one good vein and it was in the arm that the IV was in, so they couldn't use it. So, they poked and poked and poked. Finally, they discovered a vein on the back of my thumb which gave them just enough. Holy crap...that hurt worse than ANY of the IV tries!
Shortly after they were done, the midwife returned to check on us. She checked me, and found that not much had changed. The biggest challenge was getting my long cervix to shorten. She decided that to get some better results, she would attempt to snag what was left of my bag of water with a hook. For those who have had children, this is a very uncomfortable ordeal when you don't have a long cervix. I had a long cervix, was only dilated to 1 and she was attempting to snag a bag that was 85% deflated. It was horrible. To top it off, she didn't catch the bag at all. All we got out of the deal was some bloody show, but she was happy with that. She placed another round of meds in, and promised again to be back in another 4 hours.
After the mess with trying to break the bag and all the pushing and shoving, cramping started with a vengeance. It wasn't unbearable, just incredibly uncomfortable, and it stayed that way for the next several hours. It started to get really hard to keep a good attitude as we got closer. Thankfully, the nurses were all fantastic. Ken started to shut down around then, and spent more time out of the room than in it. My sister had shown up though, so that really helped. The midwife came back as promised and checked again. She was again not happy with the way things were going. She used a different type of probe to try to break the bag. She managed to get a small leak, so she placed another dose, and promised it would most likely be the last one because even though I wasn't really dilating, my cervix had thinned well. After I laid down for the required half hour after the dose, she had me up and walking. Kelly and I walked for a half hour. By that time, I was really starting to feel pretty bad. I had serious pressure and pain. This is where Ken couldn't handle it anymore. He apologized to me profusely before he basically ran from the room. For a while, they thought that things were ready to roll. It's amazing how quickly OB nurses kick into gear when they hear the term "pressure." They called the midwife back in, this was around 5:50 p.m., and she checked again. I was dilated to about a 3, and everything was pressing down. She said I needed a little longer, and she managed to actually snag the water bag this time around, relieving some of the pressure I was feeling. They gave me a shot of nubain because I was scared, shaking and starting to transition. It really helped with the sharpness of the pain. It was probably a half hour later when I felt everything start coming down. I buzzed for the nurses, and everyone came running in seconds later.
After one single tiny push, my baby girl arrived. Rosabelle Betty Staskiewicz, born sleeping, came at exactly 6:21 p.m. They were sweet and gentle with her, wrapping her in a blanket and trying to clean her up as best they could. You see, Rosie had been deceased for a while, and when they have been gone for more than a few days, their skin becomes very fragile. It was hard for them to wipe her off too much without jeopardizing her skin integrity. They handled her like they would have with any live newborn. With respect and care. They all commented on how beautiful and tiny she was.
After that started the hard part. I was able to deliver Rosie being dilated to a 4-5. The placenta was a different matter entirely. Again, when they are dealing with a stillbirth, the placenta also becomes fragile and as she was pulling the cord dislodged entirely from the sac. This meant that she had to go in after it. I have given birth to 3 giant children, and the pain from them coming out didn't even COMPARE to the pain of someone digging a placenta out of my uterus by hand and with forceps. My uterus has a crazy anatomy of it's own, where it takes a sharp, weird turn. Thankfully my last OB told me that during my last D & C. She was able to find that area, and get the remaining pieces of placenta out. She was thorough. It made life awful and painful, but it ensured I wouldn't get an infection or need surgery later, so for that, I am thankful.
After I got a little cleaned up and they did the lovely pushing on the uterus stuff, I was finally able to see and hold my baby girl. She was tiny. More tiny than I could have ever imagined. Her entire hand didn't even cover my finger. She was very, very red. Something I had read about, but didn't truly expect. Her tiny little feet fascinated me. They had little bitty toenails on each teeny toe. Her toes were no bigger than a piece of Nerds candy. Her little eyes were open about half way, and I could see her daddy's nose, and she had my mouth. She had perfect little ears. You couldn't really touch her skin because of the danger of it pulling and tearing. I managed not to cry. I just held her and talked to her. I kissed her head. My sister and mother both got to hold her. My sister Becky even stopped by for a bit to see her. She was beautiful. I wanted to make sure they were able to get good pictures of her before her skin became too hard to work with, so after about an hour, I let them take her for the night. They allowed me as much time as I wanted, and said they would bring her back in the morning as soon as I said the word.
I was given lots of medication. Vicodin, Ibuprofen, and Xanax. Falling asleep wasn't initially an issue, but the usual having to get up a few times to use the bathroom interrupted. I made it to morning with the need for an ultrasound because of lots of pain and cramping I was still experiencing that even the Vicodin couldn't touch. They wanted to make sure there was no retained placenta. Thankfully, the results came back good, and I was able to return to my room. I asked to see Rosie so I could say goodbye.
My last meeting with Rosie was the most painful of all. I knew I was saying goodbye forever, and it was horrible. I started crying the second they placed her in my arms. I told her repeatedly that I loved her. I apologized for not being able to save her. I begged her to watch over us and to be with me. I asked her to give Clara a hug when she met her. I kissed her face. I held her hand. I hugged her close. I hope that wherever she was, I showed her how much she was loved, and how much she would be missed.
The second they wheeled her out, I felt instant guilt. Did I do enough? Did I hold her enough? Why did she have to die?? Nothing I could do or say would ever bring her back to me. It hurts. It hurts more than I could ever express.
I love her. RIP my sweet little Rosie.
The induction was scheduled for the next day at the Birthing Center. We arrived promptly at 7 a.m. The lady behind the desk was very prompt at getting things in order and us to our room. Good for me, because there was a tiny newborn sleeping in a bassinet right behind her. Talk about a knife to the gut. She led us back to our room, at the end of one of the wings. I think they did that purposefully to keep us away from the babies, which was appreciated. I noticed as I walked in that there was a little sign to the right of a leaf on a purple background with a drop of water on it. That was there to alert those walking in that we were delivering a stillborn.
She walked us in and gave instructions, and gave us her sincere sympathies as she was exiting. We received a ton of sympathy from everyone there. Everyone who walked in either offered works of caring and concern, and several of the nurses walked over and just gave me a hug. It was truly the nicest experience at a hospital I have ever had. I had no idea how wonderful they would be. They honestly cared about me and the situation.
The midwife who took care of the induction was also just as amazing. She introduced herself with a hug, explained everything that would happen and made sure we didn't have any questions before we began. Her description was right on the money. She said that it would most likely take 2 or 3 doses of the medication before things would happen. She also said that once things got rolling, I would most likely be in a lot of pain for about an hour, and then it will be done. She stated that they would give me whatever medication I needed to help with pain, but didn't recommend an epidural, just because the worst part was generally very short lived. She placed the first pill and said she would be back in after four hours had passed for the next dose.
Ken and I made small talk and tried to keep our minds off of what was going on. Ken expressed that he didn't want to see or hold her. I was OK with that. Everyone grieves in their own way. I had spent a few hours on the internet the night before, so I knew what to expect as far as how she would look. The first four hours wasn't too eventful, but in the last hour I started cramping a bit, so they started my IV.
Those who know me know that IV starts are usually a fiasco, and this was no different. Three tries by nurses yielded nothing more than sore arms, so they turned me over to an anesthesiologist. She managed to start it the first try, which was nice and not as painful as typical. The labs they drew after were a different story. The doctor who put in the IV stated that drawing off of it would be a bad idea. So they called lab to try to find another place for blood. What a joke. I have one good vein and it was in the arm that the IV was in, so they couldn't use it. So, they poked and poked and poked. Finally, they discovered a vein on the back of my thumb which gave them just enough. Holy crap...that hurt worse than ANY of the IV tries!
Shortly after they were done, the midwife returned to check on us. She checked me, and found that not much had changed. The biggest challenge was getting my long cervix to shorten. She decided that to get some better results, she would attempt to snag what was left of my bag of water with a hook. For those who have had children, this is a very uncomfortable ordeal when you don't have a long cervix. I had a long cervix, was only dilated to 1 and she was attempting to snag a bag that was 85% deflated. It was horrible. To top it off, she didn't catch the bag at all. All we got out of the deal was some bloody show, but she was happy with that. She placed another round of meds in, and promised again to be back in another 4 hours.
After the mess with trying to break the bag and all the pushing and shoving, cramping started with a vengeance. It wasn't unbearable, just incredibly uncomfortable, and it stayed that way for the next several hours. It started to get really hard to keep a good attitude as we got closer. Thankfully, the nurses were all fantastic. Ken started to shut down around then, and spent more time out of the room than in it. My sister had shown up though, so that really helped. The midwife came back as promised and checked again. She was again not happy with the way things were going. She used a different type of probe to try to break the bag. She managed to get a small leak, so she placed another dose, and promised it would most likely be the last one because even though I wasn't really dilating, my cervix had thinned well. After I laid down for the required half hour after the dose, she had me up and walking. Kelly and I walked for a half hour. By that time, I was really starting to feel pretty bad. I had serious pressure and pain. This is where Ken couldn't handle it anymore. He apologized to me profusely before he basically ran from the room. For a while, they thought that things were ready to roll. It's amazing how quickly OB nurses kick into gear when they hear the term "pressure." They called the midwife back in, this was around 5:50 p.m., and she checked again. I was dilated to about a 3, and everything was pressing down. She said I needed a little longer, and she managed to actually snag the water bag this time around, relieving some of the pressure I was feeling. They gave me a shot of nubain because I was scared, shaking and starting to transition. It really helped with the sharpness of the pain. It was probably a half hour later when I felt everything start coming down. I buzzed for the nurses, and everyone came running in seconds later.
After one single tiny push, my baby girl arrived. Rosabelle Betty Staskiewicz, born sleeping, came at exactly 6:21 p.m. They were sweet and gentle with her, wrapping her in a blanket and trying to clean her up as best they could. You see, Rosie had been deceased for a while, and when they have been gone for more than a few days, their skin becomes very fragile. It was hard for them to wipe her off too much without jeopardizing her skin integrity. They handled her like they would have with any live newborn. With respect and care. They all commented on how beautiful and tiny she was.
After that started the hard part. I was able to deliver Rosie being dilated to a 4-5. The placenta was a different matter entirely. Again, when they are dealing with a stillbirth, the placenta also becomes fragile and as she was pulling the cord dislodged entirely from the sac. This meant that she had to go in after it. I have given birth to 3 giant children, and the pain from them coming out didn't even COMPARE to the pain of someone digging a placenta out of my uterus by hand and with forceps. My uterus has a crazy anatomy of it's own, where it takes a sharp, weird turn. Thankfully my last OB told me that during my last D & C. She was able to find that area, and get the remaining pieces of placenta out. She was thorough. It made life awful and painful, but it ensured I wouldn't get an infection or need surgery later, so for that, I am thankful.
After I got a little cleaned up and they did the lovely pushing on the uterus stuff, I was finally able to see and hold my baby girl. She was tiny. More tiny than I could have ever imagined. Her entire hand didn't even cover my finger. She was very, very red. Something I had read about, but didn't truly expect. Her tiny little feet fascinated me. They had little bitty toenails on each teeny toe. Her toes were no bigger than a piece of Nerds candy. Her little eyes were open about half way, and I could see her daddy's nose, and she had my mouth. She had perfect little ears. You couldn't really touch her skin because of the danger of it pulling and tearing. I managed not to cry. I just held her and talked to her. I kissed her head. My sister and mother both got to hold her. My sister Becky even stopped by for a bit to see her. She was beautiful. I wanted to make sure they were able to get good pictures of her before her skin became too hard to work with, so after about an hour, I let them take her for the night. They allowed me as much time as I wanted, and said they would bring her back in the morning as soon as I said the word.
I was given lots of medication. Vicodin, Ibuprofen, and Xanax. Falling asleep wasn't initially an issue, but the usual having to get up a few times to use the bathroom interrupted. I made it to morning with the need for an ultrasound because of lots of pain and cramping I was still experiencing that even the Vicodin couldn't touch. They wanted to make sure there was no retained placenta. Thankfully, the results came back good, and I was able to return to my room. I asked to see Rosie so I could say goodbye.
My last meeting with Rosie was the most painful of all. I knew I was saying goodbye forever, and it was horrible. I started crying the second they placed her in my arms. I told her repeatedly that I loved her. I apologized for not being able to save her. I begged her to watch over us and to be with me. I asked her to give Clara a hug when she met her. I kissed her face. I held her hand. I hugged her close. I hope that wherever she was, I showed her how much she was loved, and how much she would be missed.
The second they wheeled her out, I felt instant guilt. Did I do enough? Did I hold her enough? Why did she have to die?? Nothing I could do or say would ever bring her back to me. It hurts. It hurts more than I could ever express.
I love her. RIP my sweet little Rosie.
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