Hunter's Story

I will never forget March 25, 2013 as it was the day that my husband and I first found out we were expecting. So many emotions filled our hearts; fear, shock, excitement, joy, anxiety...but most of all an immediate and consuming love for our unborn child. It was not an easy pregnancy in the beginning, I experienced horrible morning (which was really ALL day) sickness, which led to me making the difficult choice to leave a job where I was blessed to work with and for people I truly care about. Our first appointment was at 10 weeks gestation, on May 7, 2013. At first, no heartbeat was detected using the doppler, which was the worst feeling I thought I could experience, but was shortly lived as we had our first ultrasound that same day and I was able to see my little Peanut. Our ultrasound on June 27th, showed we were expecting a healthy baby boy, who was growing perfectly, heart beating as it should, and a healthy mom who could not be more excited about the miracle growing within. We were given a CD of that ultrasound, which will forever be near and dear to my heart. My son waved to us at that appointment, and you could easily see each of his five little fingers moving. Early in the morning of July 8, I got up to use the bathroom and was experiencing things that I felt were not quite right and were concerning to me as a first time mom. Taylor took me to Riverton Hospital ER at around 4 in the morning, where we were checked in, and quickly seen by the staff there. No pelvic exam was performed, but an ultrasound showed a healthy heartbeat, placenta right where it should be, a baby boy that was growing exactly as he should be for 19 weeks gestation, and a cervix that was long and closed. I did, however, have a UTI and was sent home with a prescription for antibiotics and orders to stay in bed for the next few days. I went home feeling somewhat relieved, but still on edge. Around dinner time that night, however, I started to experience some mild cramping which I associated with the UTI. By 2 or 3 in the morning of July 9, that mild cramping was turning into more severe pain, so much so that it woke me from a deep sleep. As everything from my previous ER visit had shown that my baby was healthy, and I was too with the exception of an infection, I chalked it up to needing to push the fluids and get the rest I was prescribed. The pain continued to grow more intense, and the decision was made to take me back to the ER around 4 that afternoon. I'll never forget sitting at the kitchen table, waiting as my husband gathered a few more of our things before we left, and he tried to get my dog to go outside quickly before we left. That dog would not leave my side. I now believe that he knew something was wrong.When we got to the ER it was a little bit busier, and took much longer to be seen. The doctor was worried that my pain was caused by dehydration so I was immediately given an IV and pumped full of fluids. After the first bag was given and I was still in severe pain, the doctor decided to try one more bag, and gave me a Lortab to try and ease my growing discomfort. After none of these treatments brought any relief, I brought up to my nurse that I was concerned that these might be contractions, but as this was my first child, I had absolutely no idea what those felt like. I think I had feared that what I was experiencing from the get go was labor pains, but I didn't want to believe it. Finally, the doctor came in and performed a pelvic exam. I laid on that hospital table and prayed harder than I have ever prayed in my life. With tears filling my eyes, I asked God to please not let me be dilated. Please. Unfortunately, that prayer was not answered in the way I had hoped. I was informed that my cervix was indeed opening, and that an OB would be coming in to see me immediately. At this time, I knew what this meant. I tearfully asked my husband to call my mom. You're never too old to need your mother, and I needed her more than I think I have needed her in a very long time. When the OB came into my room, she didn't have to say a word for me to know what was coming. She checked me again and confirmed that I was about 5 cm dilated, and at this early in a pregnancy, there was really nothing that could be done. My heart shattered at that moment into a million painful fragments. My mom arrived about this time, and when she came into the room I couldn't even answer her question of what was going on. I was sobbing, trying to handle a pain that I never anticipated I could feel. The doctor told my mom what was going on, that I was dilated and losing my baby. They called Intermountain Medical Center in the hopes that perhaps they could stitch my cervix closed, but I was just past the point of saving at that point. Tay had stepped out to get some fresh air and gather his thoughts, and when he came back all I could do was apologize. I felt like I had failed him, that I was disappointing so many of our friends and loved ones who were so excited about this new little boy that would be joining our world. He quickly assured me that I had done nothing wrong, this was just something out of our control. I was then quickly taken upstairs to Labor and Delivery, a complete blur of lights over head and voices that sounded miles away to my ears. Next thing I know I'm in a delivery room, nurses hooking me up to machines, offering me their sincere and kind condolences for my situation. At this point, I had most likely been in labor for 24 hours. I had always wanted to give birth naturally. That was a goal I had made for myself. But when an epidural was offered to me, I quickly accepted. The emotional pain I was experiencing was beyond any physical pain that I had experienced, but I hoped that the epidural would slow down my labor. I could still feel my son moving around within me, and I wanted to keep every last minute I possibly could with him. I was not ready to part with him, not ready to let go of the precious and special bond that is created when you are carrying a child. The epidural went in without a hitch, and within minutes I felt nothing. What I had hoped would take hours, unfortunately only took about 30 minutes and before I knew it, I was fully dilated and being prepped to push. My mother, my mother-in-law, and my husband were with me for the delivery. Hunter came quickly, I think I only pushed about 4 or 5 times, and before I knew it my precious son was placed on my chest at 11:38 pm on July 9. I have no words to describe the emotions I was feeling. Everyone always talks about this moment, how much love you feel immediately for your child. None of it is exaggerated. If anything, it's just not something that can be put into any language. It was the most spiritual, life changing moment I have ever experienced. But it was also the most heart wrenching. I had been told my son would only have a heartbeat for a few minutes, at best. I quickly examined him, he had perfectly formed features, all 10 tiny fingers, all 10 toes, and he had his father's nose. He is the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld. I witnessed a miracle, I participated in a miracle, and my miracle was a perfect baby boy. The light and love of my existence. And he grabbed my finger. I had so looked forward to that moment, ever since seeing his little hand wave during his ultrasound. I never anticipated that we would meet this early, but I had loved him and wanted him since the moment I knew he was coming into my life. The other members of my family were brought in and I am so thankful that they were able to share in this experience with me and my husband. This pregnancy didn't just happen to me, it was a much anticipated event for my parents, brothers, sister, sisters-in-law, aunts, grandparents, in-laws...they all loved my son, and I'm eternally grateful that they were all given the chance to hold Hunter, to love on him, and get to share in his brief life. Hunter miraculously held onto life for about an hour and 40 minutes. At 1:20 am, on Wednesday July 10, he was declared passed. I didn't think my heart could take anymore, but hearing the words out loud...I lost a piece of myself. When he went, I feel as though a part of my heart and soul went with him. I was blessed to have a wonderful nursing staff who encouraged me to keep my son as long as I wanted. I was able to kiss his handsome face, hold his little hands, rub his tiny feet, and snuggle him close to my heart. Seeing my husband hold our son, is a feeling that will never leave me. I didn't think it was possible, but the love I have for him grew in those moments. There is something to be said for a man who truly loves and cherishes his child, and my husband is one of those men. We held onto our son until about 5 am, when we decided to try and get a few hours sleep. I cried when I handed my son over to our amazing nurse Wendy, and was quickly reassured that I could call her at any time and she would bring my son to me. I think I slept for maybe an hour and a half, my poor husband and mother-in-law got no sleep whatsoever, and we soon called for my son to be brought back to us. With the shift change, we no longer had Wendy, but a new nurse. When she brought my son to me, she brought him in his little body bag. My heart sank so far into my already shattered chest, and then she tried to hand him to me like that, a white body bag with a tag on it. I had no words, no movement. I was shocked that this was actually happening, and my husband and mother-in-law were livid. No mother should ever have to see her baby like that. Then, after asking her to please take my son out of the bag, she warned us not to handle him too much so that he wouldn't fall apart. Again, no mother should be told that. I don't want to be made afraid of holding my child. I have such little time with him as it is! Soon, more family arrived, and I am so thankful that Taylor's grandparents, and aunts were able to meet our sweet boy. We were also blessed with a visit from some amazing volunteers for a group called Share, who deal with child loss. They gave me the greatest gift: they took my Hunter and made casts of his precious hands and feet. What a blessing this is to me now, and a comfort for the future. I will cherish the moments that me and Tay were given alone with our son. We were able to hold him together, cry together, and I was able to rock my baby in a rocking chair, tears streaming down my face, something I had been looking forward to doing when he was to be born in November. Before we knew it, however, it was time to pick a mortuary and send my son away. Of all the traumatic experiences of the last 24 hours we'd experienced, none will compare to the moment when I had to hand my son to the funeral assistant, watch as she gently wrapped my sweet child in a blanket, and look on as she carried my son out of that room.  My arms ached to hold him. My spirit felt utterly defeated. I sobbed and sobbed on my husband's shoulders, I felt like my knees were going to give out at any minute. I just wanted to yell and scream that it wasn't fair, I wanted my baby. After he was gone, I couldn't get out of that hospital fast enough. I needed a hole to crawl into. As I was wheeled out to my waiting husband and the car, I saw that there were two other vehicles in front of ours, both of them loading up their brand new babies, ready to head home and begin their journey as parents. I longed for their experience, and a part of me felt so envious it bordered on hate, if I'm to be completely honest. They got to go home with their children. Why couldn't I? Why was my baby, who I had waited for for 25 years, on his way to a mortuary and not to our home? I know life is unfair, and I know there is a reason and a purpose for this experience. But I want to shout it from the highest mountain, it is not fair that I don't get to raise my son. I have faith and trust in God that there is divine purpose to this pain and suffering. But I feel that I am entitled to experience the emotions that I am feeling. And I have to constantly remind myself that its okay to feel this way. If anyone can understand what it feels like to lose a son, I imagine it's our Heavenly Father, and I believe he weeps for His children here on Earth and the suffering they experience. I am trying to not be angry with Him, to trust in His plan for me and my husband. Someday we will have full understanding of this trial, and we will have the opportunity to raise our son in the next life, but I am not happy. And I feel as though happiness will take some time to find its way back into my soul. Each day, each moment is a struggle, and the upcoming years will have it's moments of continued heartache and sorrow. On Monday July 15, I bury my firstborn. We picked out his little casket today, a beautiful light blue fabric covered casket. We looked at headstones. And I felt my son's spirit so strongly through it all. It's still so surreal to me, like I'm watching from a distance as someone else goes through the motions. Then the waves of hurt and anger and pain and sadness wash over me and I'm brought back to reality. No parent should have to bury their child. No matter how much time a parent is given with their little one, I imagine the grief is the same. And that grief is all consuming. I am trying to not allow myself to get caught up in the "what ifs"...but it's hard. I feel guilt, though the situation was out of my control, my son came early because of a problem I have with my cervix. It will effect future pregnancies as well, but at least now that we know this problem exists, I can take proper steps to ensure future healthy babies that will make it to full-term. No other child I will ever have will replace my sweet Hunter. There is a place in my heart where he will permanently reside, and he will live on in the hearts of his parents and family who love him and miss him immensely. My arms ache to hold him, I miss feeling him moving around inside of me, and I'm mourning the loss of the life and experiences we would have shared together. My husband has been my rock, my saving grace. Without him, his loving and constant support, and the simple act of just letting me cry in his arms every five minutes, I'd be lost completely. I know he is mourning just as much as I am, and this experience is making our relationship so much stronger and the love we have for each other has grown and evolved to something much deeper. I hope that I can be as much of a support for him as he has been for me, and that he knows that this is just as much his loss as it is mine. I think sometimes dads get a little bit forgotten when the loss of a child occurs, and I hope he never feels that way. We love our son, and we are still parents, we just happen to be the parents of an angel. I take comfort in knowing that our son is with his Father in Heaven, and his brother Jesus Christ, along with the family members we hold so dear that have gone on before us.

Until we meet again my sweet boy, mommy and daddy love you more than anything else in this world. We will miss you every day of our lives, and we know that you're in heaven looking after your brothers and sisters. Please watch over us son, guide us through our grief. Visit us in our dreams, and know that you are constantly in our thoughts. You will never be forgotten, and we will always celebrate the miracle of your short, yet so important, life. We had so many hopes and dreams for your Earthly life, but God sent us such a perfect spirit that you didn't need to experience this world. I know that you are clothed in eternal glory and are your mommy and daddy's guardian angel. I pray that you will always feel of our love for you. I promise to talk to you often, to send you my prayers and love.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.