A couple of hours after giving birth to Shaina, a nurse came into our room and asked if we wanted to spend some time with Shaina. I hesitated only for a brief moment, I guess because I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what she would look like or how I'd react to seeing my baby so still and lifeless. Would she look like the other babies? Would she look gruesome in any way?
My deep love for her out-weighed my fears and I said she could bring Shaina into our room; I wanted to see her. Soon, the nurse reappeared in the doorway, with a tiny bundle. Shaina was wrapped in a pink blanket, wearing a pink and blue striped cap. The nurse asked if we wanted to hold her. Of course we did. As I held out my arms, that had been aching to cradle her, the nurse placed Shaina on my lap, ever-so-tenderly. I rocked her and talked to her in a soft motherly voice. The nurse left, so we could be alone with our daughter for the last time.
I couldn't get over how absolutely perfect she was. Not a flaw to be found anywhere. Maybe I had been expecting at least some sort of imperfections, since her death was a mystery. I was desperate for an explanation. Babies just don't die for no reason! What went wrong? Shaina wasn't retarded, she was simply a tiny, beautiful baby girl, who died suddenly.
She had tiny little features, that were so delicate. Her eyes were closed tightly, her mouth slightly open. Her color was dark red, which was completely normal, since babies born that young in their developement have skin that is transparent; very thin and see-through.
Pulling back her cap, revealed a very small amount of fine hair. I uncovered her a little more, so I could see the hands and feet that had playfully punched and kicked the inside of my stomach, so many times. Tiny and perfect hands, fingers, feet and toes.There just wasn't any simple reasoning behind her death. How could a baby that healthy-looking, suddenly die?
I handled Shaina gently, because her fragile skin had begun to tear and slip. I believe her skin was that way prior to her birth, since she'd passed away days before. There was a tiny bit of blood on the side of her cap, the result of her skin slippage. I've looked many times at the cap I was given to take home, for traces of blood, but there wasn't any. That really makes me wonder if that was the same cap as she wore in my pictures. Maybe they left that cap on her for burial? I'd like to think I have her original cap that she wore, even if there was blood on it, it wouldn't matter. Some people have told me that things like that shouldn't be a big deal at all, but to me they are, since I have very few things of Shaina's to hold onto.
For some reason, I felt like I couldn't hold her very long. Not just because it was too painful, but I thought it might not be appropriate to hold her more than a couple of minutes. I sure with I'd held her all night on my chest, to spend some precious time with my only daughter. If only she had opened her eyes, if only she had begun to cry, if only........if only I could've.........kept her.
I slowly handed Shaina to Matt. I knew he wanted to finally spend some much-needed quiet moments with her and connect with his little girl. His silence spoke louder than anything. He loved her and it tore his heart apart to have lost her. Even though men sometimes tend to hide their feelings and continue to 'be strong', I could tell by looking deep into his eyes, he was in a lot of pain, just as I was.
If only we had thought to bring our camera or video camera, we could've captured those once-in-a-lifetime moments with our sweet Shaina. Although I usually connect taking photos and videotaping with happy times that we don't want to forget, how I wish I had thought to throw my camera in my bag. If only someone, anyone would've mentioned the idea or even jumped right in and started taking photos themselves (of course, asked us first), I would've been so grateful.
I'm sure people thought it was the wrong time for pictures and definitly would've felt uneasy taking them. I can truly understand that. But sometimes it's worth the effort to do something you feel a bit unsure of, if the outcome or benefit is greater than the uncomfortable feelings that might have lasted only a brief few minutes. It's really hard to think of things like that in a time of crisis. I just keep picturing me holding my Shaina in her pink bundle. I'd give or do just about anything to have one photo of that.
I am ever-so glad that there were pictures taken of Shaina in the nursery, by the staff. I have 2 polaroids and a 'professional' first photo. They are pricelss and highly treasured possesions. I keep them in Shaina's special scrapbook. If someone is flipping through the pages, they won't see her pictures, because I have them displayed in a card-type manner, which can be opened up to reveal the photos. I did that because it can be very disturbing for some to view those type of images. Plus, sometimes it's a bit easier for me to add things and look through her scrapbook without completely breaking down and becoming overwhelmed with pain and sadness.
The nurse came back into my room soon after leaving, to check on how we were doing. We handed Shaina back to her, with great hesitation. As I watched the nurse carry my baby away and finally disappear, a lonliness came over me like nothing before. I knew that was the last time I'd ever hold her, the last time I would ever see her. I wondered where she would be taken and if she was comfortable. I couldn't stop thinking that she was all alone, without her mommy. That made my feelings of lonliness even stronger. I longed to hold her again and kiss her cheek, before saying my final goodbyes. It was too late.
The truth was, Shaina wasn't really in her body, but had left days earlier to go home to be with Jesus. I didn't grasp that right at first, because it was just to hard to accept. Maybe I was being a little selfish, but I didn't want anyone else to have her, she was my baby and I needed her. Farther along in my grieving, the thought of Shaina being cradled by Jesus and surrounded by angels was the most peaceful thought, it literally kept me going at times. I accepted the fact that Shaina wasn't in any pain or distress, she was in Heaven; the most magnificent place ever created and someday I would eventually be right there beside her, holding her hand; throughout eternity.
The next morning after Shaina's birth was January 2. I was finally able to take a shower, which I thought would be very cleansing and relaxing, although in reality, it turned out to be far from that. I'd been having terrible cramping in my lower abdomen, while laying in my hospital bed early that morning, which only seemed to get worse. All of a sudden, standing in the shower, the majority of the placenta came out, without warning. I had assumed it already had came out after Shaina was born. The cramping, I guess had been my warning, although at that time, I didn't know what was wrong. The problem had been that most of the placenta was still inside and needed to come out. I thought the doctor or nurse were supposed to check and make sure the placenta was all out and intact. Guess not.
In the shower I stood, half ready to pass out, with the placenta at my feet. I must've reached and pulled the emergency call string, to get a hold of a nurse, since I knew they would want to examine it. It had startled me at first, but I quickly realized what it was and calmed myself down. I just continued to shower, I didn't know what else to do until the nurse came in. At least I knew the cause of my cramping and that I should feel better, physically. But that didn't take away the fact that it was a scary experience.
I was told I could go home that day, even though I'd given birth just barely 24 hours earlier and felt more comfortable in the hospital. It kinda felt like my cacoon, my saftey net. I was really dreading leaving the hospital and going home. The minute I walked out that door, I'd have to continue my life and have to face the world without my baby. I wasn't willing to do that, at least not right away.
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