| April 9, 2003: Marissa has tubes and her adenoids removed. After we got home that afternoon, I got a call from the urologist's office. DH was to have a vasectomy at the end of May, but they had a cancellation and they could take him in on April 11th. I called DH at work, and he took the appointment. His surgery went well. When his surgery was scheduled for May, I always had it in the back of my mind that if we lost this pregnancy, we may get lucky and be able to conceive another child before he became sterile. Since it has been moved up over a month, I knew that there would be no other baby if we lost this one. The day before I found out I was pregnant, a dear friend from a message board found out she was pregnant also. We were so excited to be pregnant buddies. April 16th she delivered her baby at 14 weeks. She named him Gabriel. I was so heart-broke, I couldn't even convey to her my sympathy, and I had to have someone else tell her for me. I knew in the back of my mind that I was doomed. I don't know why I felt like that at the time. My pregnancy rolled along fine. We told our families around Easter that we were going to have another baby. Mother's Day wa spent at DH's dad and step-mom's house. We had a wonderful lunch and a great visit. I was going to be the mother of four; I was feeling on top of the world. Little did I know that my baby was already dead. Two days after Mother's Day, I had a regularly scheduled OB appointment. I joked with the nurses and the resident who was going to listen to the heartbeat of my baby. While she was searching she would find a heartbeat, but it was mine. She was looking in the right place, but was just not picking up the baby at all. I knew it was not a good sign. I had to wait about 5 minutes for them to get me into an ultrasound room to check the baby. While I waited, I knew it was over. I could tell myself it was over, I could tell myself I can be strong, but in the end- emotion takes over and wipes away that stoic feeling I was trying to prepare for. I walked in the ultrasound room, sat my purse down, and layed my sweater over it. I looked at the tissue box and thought to myself I should grab some. I didn't, I think I was just hoping that the news wouldn't be bad. This was my third pregnancy in two and a half years, I'm pretty familiar with the picture on the ultrasound. I saw my baby with the most precious little foot sticking up- at the bottom of my uterus- not moving. I knew. I watched the ultrasound tech look at the resident and shake her head. The resident went to get the doctor. This was not my regular OB, but it was the second best OB that I have seen. I'll never forget the feel of his cold hand on my arm as he spoke the words, "I'm so sorry, but there is no heartbeat." I broke down and sobbed. I guess I just needed to hear those words as confirmation, which is all I needed to break the dam of tears. I was 16 weeks, 5 days and the baby had been dead at least a week. I then had to make the call to my husband to break the news. He left work and met me at the doctor's office to take me home. We cried, tried to nap, but there was no comfort to be found. Our baby was gone. We made the decision to induce labor. My doctor's office set it up for me the next day at the hospital. On our way to the hospital, the morning of May 14th, I told my husband that if our baby was a girl, we would name her Charity..."For now abideth Faith, Hope and Charity, these three, but the greatest of these is Charity." I walked through the doors of Labor and Delivery and it seemed so unreal. I was here just 6 months before giving birth to Lauren; it was like a dream that I was back to have another delivery, one that wouldn't be as happy. We wanted pictures of our baby, so we had brought a digital camera, as well as a disposable camera. They were never used. The induction was slow, because I had a prior c-section. DH went home to get some rest because it was taking so long. I didn't mind really, it was going to be uneventful until the next day. Fifteen hours into the induction, I felt a gush and figured it was my water breaking. I was wrong. I had started bleeding. I called DH at 3:30 am, May 15th. He started on his way back to the hospital, 45 minutes from our house. It was getting bad, and they discussed that it looked like I would need a D & E. I wanted to see my baby, but I knew that if it were for the best, I would consent to this procedure. I signed the consent form and things turned bad for me. I set the alarm off six times in 30 minutes. My blood pressure was dropping too far. It was 74/36 and they rushed me to surgery, it was 7:30 am. I had been put under general anesthesia because the siuation became emergent. When I was in recovery, DH was beside me and told me, "Sheri, they took your uterus." I would have been 17 weeks that day, it was three months to the date that I found out I was pregnant. I suffered a double loss that day. I lost my baby, I never got to see my baby, but then I heard the words that I never thought I would hear, I lost my uterus. I continued to hemorrhage after the D & E and the doctor got DH's permission to take the uterus, or I would most likely have bled to death. A double whammy was dealt to me that day. My story, although very sad, doesn't end there. I suffered from depression; I couldn't find that all-important "closure". I had to recover from the emergency hysterectomy, so I was home and lonely and had too much time to think. Many tears I cried, not just for our baby, but for my other loss as well. Four weeks after my surgery, DH talked to the pathologist at the hospital and he was told that there was nothing dynamic that caused our baby's death. I asked DH to call them back and ask them if they could find out the baby's sex. DH was told that it was too early in the pregnancy to know the sex. I called the OB's office very upset that they couldn't tell me the sex. My OB personally called me later that afternoon. He told me he saw the pathology and told me that my baby had gastroschisis. I was confused. How could he know my baby has a gastroschisis and not know what the sex was? (Gastroschisis is where the intestines grow outside of theabdominal wall.) At my 6-week appointment, just before I was to come back to work, I saw the pathology report for myself. My baby did indeed have gastroschisis; my baby was also my third daughter. I was devastated. How could they have delivered a body and not told me? Why was I not offered footprints and handprints? I know that pictures were not a possibility, but those two things and just knowing I could name my baby would have been helpful. Slowly, I am resolving the issues in my own mind. We named our third daughter Charity Hope Davis. We will always love our daughter, even though we never got to see her, she is a part of our family. Charity's estimated due date was to be October 24th, 2003. I figured she would be late, just like her sisters. Little did I know in February that Charity would change our world in a whole other way thatn how we first imagined. We can't take anything for granted any longer. We never know when it will be taken away from us. It is now August 2004. Charity's dad and I are now divorced. I'm not sad about that though. I had a website for Charity, but someone in "his" family attacked me through the guestbook, so I had the site taken down. Eventually, I will have it put back up. While recuperating from my surgery, I had a thought that I wanted to get a new tattoo to honor Charity. Trying to find the 'perfect' tattoo was difficult. The artist, Brittany, helped me a great deal, and I certainly appreciate her patience and talent. The sleeping cherub came from a book of flash, and the flowers I found on the internet. The tat is located just below my neckline on my upper back. We put it there so it would 'peek' out. I am pleased that I memorialized my baby in this fashion. ~Sheri Umholtz~ Mom to my three girls and Kyle |