Told by: Caycee
Below is the letter I wrote to my baby.
It was on the evening of February 13th 2012 that a dollar store home-pregnancy test showed positive results. The next morning, Valentine’s Day, I took a more expensive brand-name test just to be sure. That too showed that I was pregnant. This should have been a great and joyous discovery, as we were trying to conceive you. We had ignorantly assumed that we could pretty much conceive whenever we were ready. Around the time your big brother, Roger, was 5 months old we began trying. We wanted so much for Roger and his brother or sister to be very close in age. Even after my brutal cesarean and slow recovery I was ready to suffer another long and possibly very painful pregnancy that would most likely end in yet another cesarean. The moment I felt fully healed, about 4 months postpartum from Roger, I began an exercise routine to strengthen my whole body in preparation for my next pregnancy and in hopes of a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) delivery. We are unsure of when it really happened. We kept a detailed calendar of my cycles and of our attempts to conceive. I am remarkably predictable and almost always get my period on the 23rd of each month. January 23rd came and went with no sign of bleeding. Even before that day I had a premonition that I was pregnant, but because I was so hopeful, I believed that my desire might have clouded my judgment. Finally 4 days late, on the 27th my period arrived. This was the latest it had ever been without a pregnancy. Even one month after Roger was born and while breast-feeding I still got my period on the 23rd. I had thought that maybe an egg had been fertilized but was flushed out by other things happening in my mysterious female parts. And something of that nature had caused my cycle to shift and be late. Other than the time of it’s arrival, my period was very normal, brief and basically cramp-free. February 7th, I began spotting. I am not one to have this problem and it bothered me and finally began to panic me after 6 days of it getting more and more frequent and slightly heavier day by day. I read up on what the cause might be and to my horror the symptoms I displayed matched those of an ectopic pregnancy. Fearing the worst I took the test and instead of joy at seeing those long awaited two lines, I was struck with fear: the fear of death, the fear of losing a baby, and just the fear of the unknown. I was missing a key symptom: pain. I felt no pain of any kind. Not so much as a cramp. This was of little comfort, because the more I lost the fear of my own death, the more I began to worry about the loss of you. Somehow I knew in the depths of my being that you would never get a chance to see this world. Valentine’s Day, already overshadowed by a hectic schedule of your father’s school and work, was now over loaded with my panic and need to get to the doctor and simultaneously procure medical coverage. Turns out my doctor had zero interest in physically looking at me and just set me up for what seems to be never ending series of blood tests that still continue on to this day even as I write this. My HGC levels were low, my Progesterone level was even more low. They offered a prescription to possibly raise the levels of the progesterone, but not only was the results of that medication not guaranteed, Medicaid refused to cover it. I refused this option, not because I would not do anything to save you, but because I knew in my heart it was already too late. It was sad and frightening that after a few tests proving that my levels were moving up far too slowly, I was told in so many words that I would miscarry and being do so at home. Somehow this seemed barbaric and frightening beyond words. In a sense I would be giving “birth”, unassisted and possible very much alone. I feared the pain. I feared the grief that would overtake me. I feared never getting to see you or hold you. No matter how tiny and unformed you were, I wanted so much to see you and give you a proper resting place. They said it was hard to tell my cycle and hormone levels just how far along I was, but with the combined information I have, I would have to guess you were about five weeks along, six at the most. Saturday, February 18th, 2012, is the day I believe you ever so briefly entered this world. I had researched online as to what you may look like in your current stage of development and every time I used the bathroom and bled, I looked down to see if you were there. Something the size of a golf ball emerged painlessly from me that day and it was the largest thing I passed during this time. So I think that was you, snuggled in a tiny placenta and exiting this world as quickly as you arrived. It still makes me cry that I could not give you a proper birth and burial. I can’t bare the thought of my beloved child entering this world by being dropped into the arctic filthy waters of a toilet and being flushed into the sewer system. Please forgive me that I did not know for sure until later that what was in that bloody sack was you. Had I been sure I would have gotten you out, cleaned you off and lovingly prepared your tiny seed like body for a proper burial. I know that being so tiny and so young, that God had his hand in everything and my faith would have me believe that you never felt the cold of the water or the pain of being separated from the body that kept you alive. For all I know your soul departed long before your body ever had a chance to experience it’s first heartbeat. I believe strongly in God and maybe even more so following this loss. This experience has not caused me to question God or to lose faith in Him. It has in fact strengthened it as God has shown me many mercies in this that others have not been spared. I am thankful that this miscarriage was not physically painful. I am thankful that it happened so early on in the pregnancy. This would have been far more tragic had it happened after an ultrasound or had it been a stillbirth. I am also thankful for how it made your father and me closer. I would have never guessed that of all my friends and family, your father would be the one who remained hopeful and optimistic. At times he would tell me how this pregnancy may yet be healthy and I may carry you to full term. Your father is a man of facts and reality. Hope and faith are foreign to him. So just that he even expressed such things made me love him all the more and brought us closer. I believe that when the Lord takes a baby, especially one not yet born, He has a truly great purpose for that child. So to be so blessed as to be chosen as a vessel to carry something so special to the Lord is a great burden, but more a great honor. We wanted another boy, one to be best friends with Roger and to be honest a second boy would save us a pile of money by just passing everything from one child to the next. But through this I realized how accepting I would be if I had a girl this time. I just wanted a healthy baby. I don’t know what your gender was. I somehow imagine you as boy, but I can’t be sure, so it was tough coming up with a name that fit either gender. Lots of people had input about this, but your Grandmother on my side was actually most helpful by suggesting initials, such as C.J. I instantly liked the initials but felt every child no matter how small deserves a full name. So after much thought I came up with “Christian”, because it is a testament to my faith and it is somewhat unisex. Your middle name took longer. I want all my children to have strong classic first names, followed by more creative middle names that are the names of places I have been or want to go. So we I came up with “Jersey”, because me and your Aunt Kate always joke around about going to the Jersey shore, just like on the TV show. So finally, at the end of February, I picked a name for you. You probably already go by a different name in Heaven or perhaps the Lord already knew what name I would choose, so the name is more of a surprise to me than to you. Many of my online friends had also suffered miscarriages or losses of children. This comforted me a bit in thinking that perhaps you are up there right now playing with those children and happily waiting for your parents to join you someday. There are no others on either side of your family of our Faith. So I can’t imagine who you’re with up there other than the children of my friends. I know the Lord will care for you either way and you will never be alone. You are blessed that you never knew pain and the cruelty of this world, and we are blessed to have had you with us even for this very brief time. Mommy loves you so much. I do not say “rest in peace” instead I say “be joyous with the Lord my baby”…Christian Jersey 2/18/2012 – 2/18/2012