On December 17th, Paul and I went to the doctor for my 20 week ultrasound. What should have been an exciting visit, finding out the gender of our little baby, didn't turn out that way. As soon as we saw the ultrasound screen, we knew something was wrong. There was no movement. The baby was hunched over and there was no heartbeat. Our hearts sank. I had a feeling something might have be wrong because I felt small for this being my sixth baby. Still nothing could have prepared me for the sad news.
I cried, like I haven't cried in years. The doctor hugged me and told me how sorry she was. Paul held me. I didn't want to believe it. I had just heard the baby's heartbeat at 17 weeks. I had planned in my head what it was going to like to have another baby around the house. What it would be like for Max to have a little brother or sister just 2 years younger. I had thought of the timing of the baby's birth and how it would be right around Ava's 1st Communion and how we were going to plan for that. We bought a new van in preparation for our growing family. Now everything was changing.
The doctor told us that most of the time when a baby dies this far along in the pregnancy that it is often something chromosomal that caused it...out of our control. She told me that it was nothing I could have prevented. That God must have had other plans for this little soul. She told us that I would have to deliver the baby, but we could decide when we wanted to do that. Paul and I talked it over and decided it would be best to deliver the baby before Christmas.
Then we had to tell the kids. Paul wanted to wait a day or two to tell them because the next day they had their Christmas parties at school and it was a big day of celebration, but they knew I was having the ultrasound that day and I knew I wouldn't be able to hide my tears. I don't think the little girls fully grasped the situation, but Rose and Ava had a harder time. Rose said she didn't want to tell people at school because she didn't want to cry at school. I told them to wait until after Christmas break to tell people, that way we would have a name for the baby and the initial shock would be over.
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| Ava added the sad face and the word 'gone' to a family picture she had drawn a couple days before. |
That weekend we were supposed to go to Pokagon and Scheele Christmas, but Paul just ended up taking the girls and I stayed home with Max. I just didn't have it in me. I didn't want to be an emotional wreck or make others feel awkward for not knowing what to say to me. Rose kept saying, "Why did this have to happen at Christmas?" I didn't know what to tell her, except that Christmas celebrations were happy distractions from the sadness.
We went in Monday morning, December 21st, at 6am to deliver the baby. At that time we still did not know if it was a boy or a girl. They gave me medicine starting at 7:30 and again every 4 hours until the baby came. It took 3 doses before my body was ready. At 9:40pm, I finally delivered the baby. It was a boy. (The tears came a little stronger, knowing Max would have had a little brother.) The nurse wrapped him up in a blanket and handed him to me. He was perfect. All his little toes and fingers. He even had fingernails! He was so tiny. Only 7 ounces. Through my tears I even laughed that he had Paul's upper lip! I couldn't believe how perfectly formed he was at 18 weeks. He would have still had 22 weeks to grow until he was full term. God's design is truly amazing!
We thought long and hard about his name. We wanted it to have some meaning. We chose Dominic after St. Dominic Savio who was a child saint....just like our little boy. It is also a family name (my brother Luke's middle name and my nephew Will's middle name) and my aunts are Dominican sisters (different St. Dominic, but still the same name).
After we held him for a while, the nurse took him to take some momento pictures for us. Our nurse could not have been sweeter to us. She let us choose whatever was comfortable for us and was so loving. She brought Dominic back after she finished his pictures and left him in the room next to me for the night. I just wanted to be near him.
Physically I was in no pain after the delivery, so they sent us home the next morning around 10. They gave us so many momentos that I will cherish forever...his handprints, a tiny name bracelet, the beautiful crocheted blanket that he was wrapped in, a teddy bear for each of our kids, the tiniest outfit I've ever seen...amongst other things. I bought a beautiful box to put everything so I can get it out to look at things whenever I want.
On Wednesday, December 23rd, we buried little Dominic at the Lebanon Cemetery next to my Grandpa and Grandpa Titus, my dad's sister Ruth Ann (who died at 3 months old), and my baby sister Rose, who also died about halfway through the pregnancy. My grandparents, my parents, Paul's parents, and our kids joined us for a short burial service led by Fr. David Rasner, my Dad's best friend.
There was a beautiful white vault that Dominic was placed in for the burial, with a casket inside.
My mom took pictures to help us remember.
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| The girls all carried their "Dominic bear" to the burial. |
It was another hard day, but I am so grateful to have a place to go with the kids to remember him.
We have felt so loved by everyone around us with all the prayers, dinners, cards, gifts, and support through this tough time. What a blessing to be surrounded by family and such a wonderful community! Thank you to all of you who have been thinking of us.
We are doing better. It still makes me sad, thinking of what would have been. But I know that everyone needs to go through some sort of suffering to get to Heaven. I feel that this is part of our suffering. We pray to our little St. Dominic every day and talk about him with our kids. We hope to be with him again some day in Heaven. I know he already has family up there holding him and loving him for us.
Our little Saint Dominic, pray for us!
