Mikaela's Story - Conclusion



    An amnioreduction is something they do when a woman is carrying too much fluid. It becomes dangerous because it causes early labor, among other problems. I'm 36 weeks at the time they want to do my second reduction, and I'm all for it. I can barely walk, I can hardly breathe, everything hurts. They want to do it that day, but Mark is not with me, my mom (God bless her) has been taking me to my appointments so that Mark can take off work to be with Mikaela at the hospital after she is born. I guess I just had a feeling, and I asked to do it on a day Mark could be there, in case I had to be admitted or something went wrong.



During my fluid reduction, the day before Mikaela is born



    The reduction is scheduled for Friday, June 15th. I'm having nearly constant contractions, but they're not strong enough to cause me to go into labor. It's just uncomfortable. We get to the hospital early, they do the reduction. I have to stay for observation for a few hours after, because of the many risks. I'm still having contractions, but they're not steady or regularly spaced, and they're not painful or getting closer together. They're strong, but sporadic. But Mikaela's heartbeat is not responding well to the contractions. They want to keep me over night. Mark stays with me- they move me into triage. I'm afraid, they've tested the amniotic fluid for lung maturity and, as expected, her lungs are under-developed.

    The next morning, my doctor comes in. It's a Saturday, he's off that day, but he comes to tell me that they will be prepping me for a c-section. Mikaela needs to come today, her heart is not seeming so strong suddenly, even though up until this point it seems like the only thing about her that is working the way it should. I start making the calls - My mom is babysitting Ladybug, she has to wait for T to get Bug so that she could come to Houston. My best friend is at a hospital 4 hours away with her cousin, who is having a baby. She won't be able to make it. My other closest friend is in Houston already, she'll come by that evening. I'm scared, but I'm excited at the same time. Up until now, it's just been waiting, nobody can do anything, nobody can tell me anything. Once she's born, they'll be able to diagnose her and they'll be able to fix her. They'll be able to make her better.

    My doctor, Dr. Ivey of TCH, will not be doing the surgery, there's a team of OB-GYN's and neonatal specialists waiting to take me into the operating room. They are all competent and incredible people, and I am still so thankful to all of them for everything they did for me and my daughter. I was blessed to be in that hospital, with those people, even if under the worst circumstances.

    Mark is dressed in his scrubs - He's going in with me. The way the operating room at TCH is set up is great, while they're sewing my guts back into me, I'll still be able to see Mikaela and the neonatal team, thanks to a camera set up over the baby's table and the large flat screen that sits over where I'll be laying- Otherwise, I never would have seen my daughter while she was alive.

    As soon as she was delivered, the neonatal team went to work. She was on a manual aspirator, because of her under-developed lungs. At 36 weeks gestation, her lungs should have been almost fully developed. If she hadn't been so sick, she would have been able to breathe. But remember how I said she never took those little practice breaths? That stuff matters. Those little hiccups they get are an important part of their development in utero. I learned a lot during this pregnancy. I could probably pass the test to be an ultrasound tech by the time it was all said and done. I couldn't have worked the machine, but I knew exactly what I was seeing, I knew what the numbers and the measurements meant.

    So for 44 minutes I watched these doctors and nurses try frantically to keep her pumped with oxygen, and to keep her heart rate steady. When the doctor came over to tell us that they were going to try for a few more minutes, but they had done nearly all they could do, there were tears in her eyes. She was heart broken, you could see it. I would not have wanted to be in that position, I can't imagine what it must feel like to tell a new mother that they can't help her baby. Mark had tears in his eyes - our baby girl wasn't going to make it. It was a reality now - Not just a fear. They gave our beautiful, messy-haired baby girl to Mark to hold and he held her close to me and we cried... It was all over. Everything that we had wanted and prayed for was here, for a moment, and then gone.

    That night, Mark went back home. His brother was in town, and he needed a place to stay. Our dog needed to be fed and taken out. The cat needed food, and attention. So I was at the hospital, all alone. Lots of loneliness when a baby goes to Heaven. That loneliness never really went away - It's stayed with me, lingering over me most of the time, even when I'm surrounded by people that I love and care about. It's an emptiness that I don't think will ever be filled.

    The day that we were supposed to have my baby shower, we held a funeral. It was a beautiful service, at the cemetery where most of my family is buried. We laid my Butterfly diagonally between my amazing grandmother, whom I loved so much and miss every day, and my grandfather, whom I never had the chance to meet. Next to my cousin, who passed away a few years before. Surrounded by my family, people who loved me, and who would have loved her unconditionally. Out in the woods, far away from me, alone. Mark, Ladybug, and I, sat there; staring at the little white satin-covered box that held our daughter and her sister. Ladybug held me and she cried heavy, heart-breaking sobs, saying "Mommy, I miss Squishy." Yeah babe, we all do. And we always will. At one point, my Ladybug couldn't handle it, she asked to go stand in the back, away from her Squishy. That empty-armed feeling increased exponentially.

    The autopsy results came in about 2 and a half months later - Cause of death was under-developed lungs. She couldn't breathe. She was afflicted with spinal muscular atrophy, something I had never heard of. It was good to finally have an answer, but now Mark and I are left with the fact this could happen again. SMA is often caused when two parents carry a gene for the defect - Mark and I apparently both carry this gene. It's not a guarantee that any of our future children will be sick, but it's a probability. So not only is our first child together gone, waiting for us on the other side of life, but we may never be able to have a rainbow baby. A special child, conceived and born after a devastating loss, to help fill the gap left by tragedy.

    Every day that passes, I think about Mikaela. I miss her. I never understood women who would miscarry and be distraught that they had lost a child - yeah, I was one of those people. I mean, I didn't talk down to them about it but it seemed silly to me. But I realize after Mikaela, that if I had lost her in my 1st trimester, I would have been distraught as well. Maybe more so than I was losing her the way I did. I was prepared to lose my daughter; I prayed for it, honestly. I prayed every day to God, that if she was going to spend her whole life in a hospital, that if she would never have the opportunity to live and laugh and love like a person should, that I didn't want her to suffer. Part of it may have been selfish, because I'm not sure if I could have handled having a special needs child. It's not like she was going to be a little challenged; This girl would have literally spent the majority of her time in surgery or recovery, she would have been 100% dependent on someone, for her entire lifetime. And no, I was not looking forward to that.

    Does that make me a bad person? Does that mean I'm going to hell, because I prayed for my child to die? I don't think so.  Maybe under another circumstance, yes... But, I talked with God about this, for months. I still do. He's the one I turn to whenever my heart is aching because I don't think that Mark and I have been grieving the same. And I don't want to be that whiny person that none of my friends want to be around because I can't be happy and have a good time and appreciate what I still have. I can, and I do, but I need someone to talk to and it's reassuring to know that I can just close my eyes and pour out my heart and that every word is received with open arms and love. I'm sure there are friends of mine who would do the same, but they don't know what to say, and it's not their emotional baggage to carry around and be burdened by. So I talk to God.

    And you know what? He still hasn't spoken back. But I feel comforted after I do it, I feel a sense of peace and calm, if only for a moment, and I know that one day, I'll have the answers I'm looking for. And if I'm sad and inconsolable for an hour, and I can't get out of bed and my pillow is soaked through with my tears and the dog and cat are hiding because my sobbing is scaring them, I know that God is seeing and He is hearing and that He will give me the chance to hold my baby girl one day. My faith is what makes what has happened bearable- Without it, I could not go on after losing my daughter. And it's what makes it easier for Ladybug. She hasn't had a lot of exposure to religion and to God and Jesus, and that's my fault. But she will tell you that her Squishy is in Heaven, and that when we die, that's where she'll be, waiting. She will tell you that Nini [my mom]'s mom is holding Mikaela, and taking care of her, because they both died and went to Heaven because they were good people, who believed in God, who lived good lives, and who love us and miss us as much as we miss them.

Mikaela Evalynn was born on Saturday, June 16, 2012, at 12:43 P.M. in Houston, Texas.
She weighed 4 pounds and 3 ounces, and was 14 inches long. She lived for 44 minutes, thanks to the amazing people at Texas Children's Hospital, who are so compassionate and so good at what they do.

She had a head full of thick, dark brown hair, and never opened her eyes.

She is survived by me, her mother, Sheila, father, Mark, and big sister, Ladybug,

As well as innumerous other friends and family that will continue to love her as if she were still here with us.



Ladybug, Me, and Our "Mikaela Bears"



She is preceded in death and looked after by my grandmother, Florence Evelyn, who I know, would be honored at giving her name to this perfect little angel.



Mikaela's Resting Place - Taken The Day She Was Laid To Rest