A horrible dream

Yesterday, I gave birth to my beautiful third son, Caden. It should have been a joyous occasion, instead, however, it was the saddest day of my life. My son, Caden, the beautiful boy I carried for over 35 weeks had died. Giving birth was bittersweet-I got to meet him, but I also had to say goodbye. I was and still am heartbroken.

Wednesday afternoon we could find no heartbeat and later that day we would get the confirmation that he was gone. The days prior were filled with worries about his decreased movments. I had spent both days at the birth center and OB office with reassurances that he was okay, but something still nagged in me that Caden wasn't acting normally. I realize now, that I "knew" that something was wrong. I am and probably will always be wracked with guilt about what else I could have done, whether or not it resulted in a different outcome for my sweet boy.


It was rainy the day we found out and rained most of our first day at the hospital- the earth was crying with us. They started the pitocin around 4 on Wednesday and I finally had him at 2:51am on Friday morning. The days prior to his birth felt like a a horrible dream and I kept hoping to wake up. I chose to not receive pain medications for the birth and follow through with my initial plans for a natural birth. It hurt, It hurt like hell, my body was in as much pain as my heart, but my midwife and nurse encouraged me on. I know that towards the end, I was not the stoic patient I wanted to be, I was an absolute disaster, but they all put up with me. I started to doubt I could make it another minute. What they refer to as "the ring of fire" felt more like an inferno- I cried and I screamed as Caden finally made his way out, silent and still. There were no cries like my sons before him and  I will never know what his cry sounded like. But, I cried for him. I am still crying for him.

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I think this one is hardest for me to share because it shows  emotions I don't usually share in public, but  its real and I didn't want to hide it.

 

We held him, weighed him and dressed him while he remained eternally asleep. We took pictures, lots of pictures. We slept with him next to me for a bit-the only cosleeping we would get to do. It was time to move from the labor and delivery room and I asked to be put in the GYN unit instead of postpartum, as I knew I couldn't bear to hear other babies crying.I held him as they pushed me to my new room.  Once we got there, it was about 5:30 in the morning. I sunk into my bed and I held my precious boy against my chest, while my husband slept next to me. I could no longer sleep, I didn't want to miss any of these moments. I needed to make a memory of how he felt and I wanted it to last as long as possible.The photographer came to take photos. Then, we introduced our 2 and a half year old son to his brother. He lovingly kissed him and hugged him. When the nurse finally came to take him later that day, Brady did not want to see him go. He keeps asking "is Caden there?" gesturing towards the hospital rooms. It was hard to make him understand and I felt bad for him, as we spent so much time trying to make him excited about the baby and now we were having to make him understand why he wouldn't be around.

I hated leaving the hospital without him- HATED IT. I was mad and sad and overwhelmed with the reality, my heart was broken and no one could fix it. Seeing my other boys was definitely healing and my love for them keeps me going, but there is still a hole there that Caden's passing left.