I spent the next several days after her diagnosis doing what I could for Lorris, to make sure we would be ready for her arrival.
I called to let my employer know that I wouldn’t be back to work until after. That was hard because I knew in the back of my mind that after really meant after Lorris had passed away. I had planned all along to stay home with her and was still planning on doing just that, for whatever time I had with her. Also, not going back to work was an act of self-preservation. I worked in an insurance office and dealt with the public. It was very obvious that I was pregnant and my clients would be asking about my pregnancy and baby every single day. Innocent questions that they would ask would be bittersweet and I knew that it would be too much for me to handle day after day while I was trying to process everything.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I was thankful to be carrying her, but I was also beginning to grieve the fact that more than likely my time with her could be very short. It’s a dance that not many can understand - carrying a baby you know you may never bring home from the hospital. A baby you might never hold while she is still breathing. I felt her move inside me throughout the day and it was easy to pretend sometimes that she was going to be completely fine.
That was something else Marty and I discussed – a plan for her birth. We knew that if Lorris survived her Caesarean delivery our time with her was more than likely going to be very limited. We wanted whatever time we had with her to be spent with us in our arms so we agreed that after the doctors has assessed her and did some basic things that we wanted to hold her as soon as possible. We talked to our doctor and the NICU at the hospital to make sure they were on board with this and we had their full support.
We also began the process of trying to prepare our boys. We explained trisomy 18 to them in the simplest terms possible and that Lorris was very sick. I’ll be honest, that’s all I could tell them. I just couldn’t bring myself to have the discussion with them that she was more than likely going to pass away. That was something I thought we would talk about closer to her delivery. My reason was simple, I didn’t know how long I would carry Lorris. I was 26 weeks pregnant and I if I carried her to full term I didn’t want that weighing on their little hearts the entire time. Marty and I could handle the unknown but I didn’t know how to prepare them for the uncertainties. I also didn’t want to put more on them than they had to deal with at that moment.
I really thought we would have more time.
At 28 weeks I woke to something that I wasn’t used to.
No feelings of kicks or movement from my baby girl.
I laid for the longest time that morning and moved from one side to the other, still nothing. Those of you who have been through this know, your brain does crazy things to keep you from losing your mind. I wasn’t ready to accept it.
The doctors had told us that Lorris’s esophagus and stomach were not connected so she was not able to swallow any of my amniotic fluid. This made me have double the amount that was normal. I convinced myself in that moment that her lack of movement might be because the abundance of fluid I had. More to cushion her movement, I thought, that is why I couldn’t feel her.
The day went on and I never felt anything. I started to grow concerned but just couldn’t say the words to anyone, I couldn’t even let myself think it. When Marty got home from work I told him that she hadn’t moved all day but that I just knew she would soon. At this point I had already soaked in a bath tub filled with warm water with no movement from her at all. I had done everything I knew to make her move. Still nothing.
Marty called Stephanie who lives right down the street from us and she came over. Bless her heart, Stephanie is my cousin, a dear sweet friend and a nurse who had a stillborn baby years before. I can’t imagine how she must have felt when Marty called her to tell her our baby wasn’t moving, I’m sure it was awful for her, but she showed up at my door like she always did when I needed her. Stephanie is another of my “in the trenches” friends.
When she arrived, she suggested several things to try to get Lorris to move. Still nothing.
“Jenny, I think you need to go to the hospital.”
I just wasn’t ready.
I promised Marty if I hadn’t felt any movement by morning I would go.
As I lay down for bed that night, I prayed that God was just help me to know what I needed to do and the strength to do it.
At about 4:00am that morning I called the hospital and talked to someone in labor and delivery.
“My name is Jenny Cummings and I am 28 weeks along with my baby girl who has trisomy 18 and I haven’t felt her move in almost 24 hours.”
The nurse in the sweetest kindest voice said, “Sweetheart, why don’t you come on in.”
Marty called his parents to come over and watch our boys while we went to the hospital. Whatever was going on, I needed to know for sure. It was time to find out.
In the back of my mind I felt a little silly. Maybe I just wasn’t able to feel the movement and she was fine. All that being said, I was still very anxious.
When we arrived at the hospital the nurses greeted me, expecting me. They quickly escorted me to a room and strapped a wide fetal monitor around my belly.
It took a few minutes but then we heard a very fast “ba boom, ba boom, ba boom.”
“There she is” one of the nurses smiled and said “128.”
I let out a huge sigh. I smiled and looked over at Marty only to see him shaking his head.
“I don’t thing that is the baby, I think that is Jenny” he said.
The nurse looked confused and called a few other nurses in and they debated on what we were hearing. The decided to order an ultrasound to be sure.
A few minutes later the ultrasound tech came in squirted some cold jelly on my stomach and began looking intently at the screen in front of her.
“I’m so sorry. There is no heartbeat.”
And with that she turned the screen around and there was the silhouette of our daughter completely still with the beat of her heart no longer flashing on the screen.
The tears flowed for both of us. Just like that, she was still there, but she was gone.
I looked over at the young ultrasound tech and thought to myself how hard it must be. Having a job where you deliver good news day after day to mommas only to have to tell a select few the worse news of their life.
“Are you ok?” I asked her. She nodded yes but I could tell she really wasn’t.
A few nurses came in to offer their condolences. Within the hour my doctor came in to talk with us. He was so gracious and told us both how sorry he was about Lorris. He also gently began the discussion about how we needed to plan on delivering her.
Not knowing exactly what was going on or how long we would be, we had asked Marty’s parents when we had left that morning to go ahead and send our boys to school. We hadn’t got to share the news with anyone yet, and I wanted to be the one to tell our boys. I desperately wanted to go home, I wasn’t ready yet. After some discussion our doctor suggested that we go home and come back later that evening and that he would deliver Lorris later that night. He wasn’t on call, but he said that he wanted to do that for us so we could go home for a while.
Marty made some calls to our close family on the way home. We made one stop before picking up our boys from school - the funeral home. Marty’s parents met us there and helped us make arrangements so the funeral home could pick Lorris up from the hospital when we were ready. Making her arrangements was something that made me feel good, like we were still doing everything that we could to take care of her.
Then we picked up our boys and told them that Lorris had went to be with Jesus. They had a few questions, but handled it well and we took them home where we could all just be together. After we got home, our family arrived one by one to surround and encourage us, doing things that we didn’t even know we needed.
That evening, August 19th 2011, exactly two weeks after her diagnosis we headed to the hospital to meet and say goodbye to our little girl. I felt a calm that I can’t even begin to explain other than it was a God given peace and comfort like I had never felt. We had a waiting room full of people there to love and support us waiting for her delivery.
When I delivered my boys by c-section I had been completely awake during the surgery, but for this delivery the doctor had suggested that perhaps it would be better if they put me completely out. I think he believed that it may be easier on me.
I woke up in recovery with Marty with me. He kissed my forehead and told me I did great. Then the nurses asked if we were ready to meet our girl.
They put Lorris in my arms and at 28 weeks she was absolutely whole, complete and beautiful. I immediately noticed her head full of dark hair and she had sweet bushy eyebrows. I examined her, pulling her pink blanket back that we had bought for her and counted all ten of her fingers and toes. She was tiny, weighing just over a pound but perfect none the less. She was wearing a white gown that the hospital provided. A group of volunteers made the tiny dresses just for stillborn babies. Marty’s parents and our boys joined us in the room and Maxton held her. We had promised him early on that he could be the first to hold her since Noah was the first to hold him when he was born. After the boys had some time, the nurses (they were angels) slowly shuffled the waiting room full of our family into our tiny recovery room so they could meet our little one.
I’ll never forget the love that filled the room that night. It was enough to take your breath away. We all spent time holding Lorris, soaking her in. I don’t know that there was a dry eye in the room.
The nurses told us to take our time but to let them know when we were ready for them to take Lorris away and call the funeral home. I realize now that because I was coming out from under the anesthesia my mind wasn’t completely clear, that’s why my memories are a little fuzzy. I am so thankful that Marty’s brother Brad picked up my camera and took some pictures for us, they are absolutely priceless and they help me to remember. If I had that night to do over again I would do it different. I would have waited to send her back. I would have went to my room after I was out of recovery and spent a little more time with her. Maybe then my memories of her would be a little clearer. I guess every mom who has ever lost a little one wishes for that, just a little more time. However, I remind myself it was just Lorris’s body that we were holding- her soul was already with Jesus.
We said our goodbyes to Lorris in the surgery recovery room.
Later that night as they wheeled me up to my room and moved me to my new bed the emotion of the day caught up with me and I began to sob uncontrollably. My nurse crawled up in the bed beside me, wrapped he arm around my shoulders and said over and over, “its ok."
I composed myself long enough for my boys to come in so I could kiss them and say goodbye so they could head home with Marty's parents. Marty stayed with me and never left my side. I had just survived the unthinkable, I had delivered my baby girl, stillborn. Little did I know that God, in the process, was also delivering me. It was going to take some time for me to realize from just how much. But thats another story, that is Life after Lorris.
