page6goinghome

I spent most of my time on the phone, calling friends and family to tell them that I delivered Shaina, and trying to get as much support as possible. After my pastor came to talk with us, we watched a video about losing a baby and the grieving process. That video touched my heart so much, that I ended up ordering it for myself.
   That morning, when Matt went home to take a shower, I had him call some of my relatives who were long-distance, to tell them what happened. He called one of my half siblings (I'll respect their privacy and not give their name), who I hadn't seen in quite a while. I was told that she said some things that were pretty upsetting and down-right mean, instead of being caring or sympathetic. Matt didn't even want to repeat what she said, because he wanted to save me from feeling hurt. I guess her main message consisted of blaming Shaina's death on my young age and saying that we weren't ready for a baby anyway. Matt has told me he will never speak to that person again and I don't blame him a single bit. I doubt I will either, under any circumstances and it's really sad that things are like that, because family means so very much to me.
   Other relatives Matt called were wonderful, very supportive and helpful. During times like that, there's no doubt that you definitly learn who's sincerely your friend and who doesn't really care about you. One of the hardest parts about the first month, was how quickly the phone calls and cards came to a halt. That's when reality really set in and I realized how alone I truly was. I think people got tired of trying to be so supportive and were ready to get off the subject of death and on to something a bit more upbeat. I can't say that I blame them, but to someone who has just lost a child and one day have all the support stop, is very traumatizing and confusing, but I guess it can't last forever.
   On January 3, after I'd been in the hospital for 2 nights, my time ran out. I had no choice, but to go home and begin my journey through grief, even though I'd been trying my best to avoid it, it was right there in my face and there was no way of getting by it. I had to go through it; the bumpy road of grief. Leaving just about killed me. I honestly could've happily stayed there a week or more and not given a single complaint about the less than delicious hospital food, or the 2:00, 4:00, 6:00 a.m. blood pressure checks and out-right middle of the night nagging. I had to leave that hospital with empty arms.
   Walking down that long hall, past the many labor and delivery rooms, filled with families that were celebrating their new additions, past the nursery; where happy, healthy infants napped between feedings, was a terrible feeling. Matt carried most of my stuff out into the car, before I even stepped through the doorway of my room. I carried the last of my beautiful flowers that thoughtful people had brought for me, even though soon, they'd too dry up and die. As we passed the front dest o our way out, I couldn't help from noticing the countless Anne Gedde's pictures that adorned the walls....images of the most adorable babies; posed inside flowers and other props. They were beautiful pictures, but I wanted to avoid babies or anything related to babies altogether, unless they were my very own.
   I had a couple people offer to go to our apartment before I came home, to put away all of Shaina's things, like the clothes we bought her, the toys, the carseat. I'm sure they ment well and really were trying to be helpful, but they didn't realize that if I came home without Shaina and found all of her stuff gone, also...it would've been frightening. I didn't want her to completely disappear. I wanted her stuff left alone.
   I said my goodbyes to my favorite nurses and asked for one of the stickers I seen that said "It's a girl! Family Birth Center. Lebanon Community Hospital." I wanted it for Shaina's scrapbook, afterall, she was a girl and she was born there...even though the law states something about not being able to issue a legal birth certificate for a baby who doesn't take at least one breath. No doubt, that law must be changed!
   I wanted to say goodbye and thank you to the nurse who had helped me out the most, the one who sat down and talked with me. She seemed truly concerned. Unfortunatly she wasn't working that day, so it was a good thing I had wrote her a letter and given it to her the day before. I'd like to see that letter,now, because I know I couldn't have wrote any better than the average toddler that day.
   Two years after Shaina's birth, when I was at the Birth Center, visiting a friend who had just given birth to her first son, I stopped and talked to that nurse. She remembered me and my letter must've touched her, because she said she still had the letter at home and had been keeping it all that time. That made me feel so good!
   When we arrived home, I didn't want anyone to see me or ask about my baby. Our neighbors probably thought I was still pregnant. I didn't want to have to explain what had happened, at least not right away. The first few days, I tried to keep as busy as possible. I arranged the pretty flowers all over our apartment and worked on Shaina's scrapbook. I started to plan her funeral and made my final decisions about the details. It took me part of a day to write a letter to Shaina, for the pastor to read at the service. I also found a poem that was perfect to go with the letter.
   Matt and I had to go to the funeral home and pick out a casket and design little handouts, and decide on a few other smaller details. We also had to make a trip up to the cemetary to buy a plot. We bought the one next to Matt's G-pa Luke, who died of cancer. Shaina would be buried next to family; her great-grandfather. That made me feel better. I didn't want her buried all alone, or next to strangers.
   So many decisions that we weren't prepared to make. Who would've thought, I was barely 17 and planning a funeral for my only child. I never, ever imagined I would be burying my child. I thought it was supposed to be the opposite. We also learned just how expensive funerals could be, although that was the least of our concerns. I wanted things to be perfect, just like my little Shaina. Nothing could be too good or too expensive for her.
   One aweful night, similar to most, I sat up in bed and cried my eyes out, thinking of my lost baby. I could've sworn I heard the sound of a baby's cry, for a split second. It practically made me jump right out of bed and run through the wall! Matt probably thought I'd lost my mind, when I woke him up. I must've been so incredibly upset, I was hearing things. It was terrifying. I don't exactly believe people come back from the dead, or that you can communicate with lost loved ones, execpt maybe through God, until you join them.
   A few days after giving birth to Shaina, my body started producing milk and I became painfully engorged, as if I were nursing a baby. At that point, I was certain that 'Mother Nature' was being very cruel to me. It was so painful, both physically and emotionally. I had been planning to nurse Shaina and now I had the milk, but I didn't have my Shaina to nurse. After many frustrating calls to the Birth Center at the hospital, asking every nurse we could possibly talk to, what to do; my milk finally dried up and I couldn't have been more relieved.
   During the first week, following Shaina's birth, I added to my make-shift memorial, on our entertainment center at the apartment where we were living at the time. After moving from Lebanon to Sweet Home in the fall of 2000, I had a memorial for Shaina in our kitchen. It is now on a different entertainment center in our bedroom. The memorial is made up of: the fancy light yellow dress with short, lace sleeves and a little pink rose type bow in the middle of the chest (that we bought before we found out the devastating news, and planned to bring her home from the hospital in.), her framed ultrasound picture, hand and footprints, tiny pink booties, tiny white cloth shoes that have pink roses on the sides of them, the paper tape-measure the nurses used to measure her with, the colorful blanket I made when I was pregnant ( it was the first and only thing I have ever crocheted! ), my first 'Seraphim Angel" that I collect (this one is Shaina's special angel), a few little keepsakes people have given me throughout the years and still treasure like; the keepsake photo album that Matt's mom gave us for Christmas-right before Shaina died, a hand-made paper angel made by the ladies of my old english teacher's church, a angel ornament that was given to me by our neighbor- last Christmas (2002), who is a nurse and is currently pregnant with their first child; due in August, along with many other things. If you've given me something special in memory of Shaina, you can bet it's either part of her memorial or in her scrapbook. I keep everything!

Click on 'next' to read about Shaina's funeral