Tom

Monday morning, November 11 (Veteran's Day), I had an unusual amount of energy. I was 37 weeks and 5 days pregnant with sweet baby #6, whose name was still a little undecided. I washed all of his clothes, swaddling blankets, and prepared the stuff I would need by my bedside once he arrived. Was this burst of energy a sign of labor to come? My c-section was scheduled for the following Wednesday, November 20, but this pregnancy had been particularly long and mentally tough and I was fatter than ever and so so so so tired. Maybe he was going to come sooner than planned!

Fast forward to around 5 p.m. I had gotten in the bath, and after lying there for a while realized I hadn't felt Tom kick in quite some time. I tried to remember when exactly I had felt him kick last, and I couldn't. I had been so busy all day that I hadn't realized if he was still or not. I was pretty sure he was active in my belly the night before, which was Sam's birthday. Brian and Scottee braved Mollie's pink eye contagion and came to celebrate with us. We all played a home-made game that Sam had invented. I am pretty sure I felt Tom kicking then.

It was now around 8:00 on Monday night. I wasn't worried that I hadn't felt any movement, but I did mention it to Devin. This was my 6th pregnancy, and with each baby I've experienced that panicked feeling that I hadn't felt them move in a while, but they always eventually did. I am healthy. My babies are healthy. The only thing "wrong" with my pregnancies is the obscene amount of weight I gain each time, which doesn't hurt me or the baby, just my pride. We had just had an ultrasound the week before, and I saw that everything was ship-shape. Tom was already measuring at over 8 lbs!! I heard his beautifully strong heartbeat loud and clear and saw his heart pumping blood. Liv and Remi were in the ultrasound room with me, eating apples and getting ridiculously sticky. Liv started giggling when she heard Tom's heartbeat and imitated the "bump bump bump" noise.

I started googling "reduction in fetal movement at 38 weeks" on my phone. I read some scary stuff but didn't give it a second thought. I read other things that said no fetal movement could mean the baby is engaged and preparing for labor. I told Devin and he agreed, this could be happening tonight, you never know! We enjoyed that thought for a few minutes, then I told Devin to come over to me and try to get the baby to move. Devin blew raspberries on my belly for a good 90 seconds. Nothing. He yelled in a deep, deep voice into my belly. "Hello in there, this is your father!" Devin thought he was pretty funny. I was texting with Michelle off and on during this time, and still not feeling too concerned.

I played music up against my belly as loud as my phone volume would go. Nothing. I drank a soda. Nothing. I downed a few pieces of the kids' leftover Halloween candy. Still nothing. By this time it was about 10:30 p.m., and I said to Dev, "Well, I either need to go to the hospital or go to bed." I can still hear Devin's exact tone in my head. "I'm sure he's fine."

I decided to go to bed and I felt complete peace about that decision. Looking back I realize that by that point my little Tom was already gone.


During my usual 1 to 2 bathroom breaks in the night, I didn't feel any movement from my belly. I was half asleep but I do remember that. By the time bathroom break #3 rolled around it was 5 a.m. I thought that maybe if I ate something it would alert sweet baby boy that the day was starting and he would wake up. I downed a piece and a half of leftover Barro's pizza and waited for a minute. Still nothing. I put on a bra and some shoes and told Devin I was heading to the E.R.

On the 15 minute drive to the hospital, I kept telling myself, "If he moves now I will just turn around." Then I'd think,"Well, even if he moves I should still have him checked out." After all, he was my most active baby. I had even told an ultrasound tech about a month earlier that I never had to worry about this baby's movements because he was always kicking. Just among the many sentences that I will remember forever.

I checked in to the hospital and nonchalantly gave all my info, the reason I was there, and signed all the necessary paperwork. They put me into a room and into a gown. The one they gave me was too small (go figure. I had only gained 85 lbs.), so I then changed into one that could have fit about five pregnant people all at once. The nurse came in and hooked me up to a monitor, and we were chit-chatting about baby's movements. I told her I hadn't felt him all day yesterday, and not at all during the night. She said to me, "You didn't feel him in the night? Weren't you sleeping?" Yeah, I thought that was jerky of her to say, too. I probably too snarkily responded, "I just have to go with my gut."

She hooked me up to the doppler and started moving it around. I still was not worried until I heard the absence of that strong heartbeat I had heard 7 days before. The nurse moved the doppler all around, and the tears started rolling down my cheeks. She kept checking and checking. After a few minutes she said she had thought she heard a heartbeat down near the bottom right side of my belly. She called for a doctor with a portable ultrasound machine to come check me out. He did, and we still heard nothing. I knew which part was Tom's heart on the ultrasound screen, and I saw that it was still. The part that bugs me about this whole experience is that neither the nurse nor the doctor said what I already knew was true. The doctor just kept moving the ultrasound wand around my belly, silently. I finally had to ask, "Is he dead?" The doctor said, "I'm sorry, sweetie, there's no heartbeat."

I texted Devin to come right away. The nurse and the doctor (who by the way was NOT my beloved Dr. Erickson, just some random guy who didn't have the courage to tell me my baby had died) left the room. I was a constant stream of tears. I could hear a woman a few feet away from me, moaning during her labor pains. A random nurse came in and asked if she could hug me. I said yes when I really wanted to say no. She started crying and I just wanted her off me. I told her I wanted to be alone and thankfully she left.

Devin arrived and we cried and cried.

Dr. Erickson came in the room and cried with us. He said sadly this kind of thing happens sometimes with zero cause. He said we would know more once the baby was out, and hopefully would get some answers.

Because of my 5 a.m. Barro's fest, I couldn't have the c-section until that afternoon. Devin went back home to tend to the kids (Brenda had been there watching them). I know I had a lot of visitors in between this time, at least I think I did. I know for sure that Scottee was there. She cried with me and I was so grateful for her presence, because she of all people knew the pain I was going through. I was having contractions, and they were tricking me into thinking that Tom was moving. Maybe they were wrong! Maybe he was still alive?

It was finally time to deliver Tom. Devin was back with me. They took me down to the O.R., which is never my favorite room to go into anyway, and I started to lose it. The anesthesiologist was trying to do my spinal, but I was crying and shaking. The spinal is always my biggest hurdle to get over during my c-sections. The thought of the needle in my back gives me major anxiety, but it is always worth it because my babies are born just a few minutes later. But this time, this time was not worth it. It finally hit me that I was going through all this hell and I would not get my prize at the end. They were going to take my baby out and he was going to be dead.

When they were testing to see if my legs were numb yet, I could still feel everything. The spinal wasn't working as it normally did, and I attributed that to my shaking while the Dr. was trying to administer it. They said they would have to re-do the spinal, and I remember saying, "Come on!" They also said I had the option to be put to sleep, but that I wouldn't remember anything about the birth. I was quiet for a few seconds while I decided, then I told them to just put me to sleep. I am so grateful for how this worked out, because looking back, I don't think I could handle the absence of Tom's cry as he was born. I am so grateful the spinal didn't work.






And now for the part I have been dreading writing down.

I woke up in the same hospital room I was in before the surgery. Devin said, "Here he is," and handed me our lifeless newborn baby.

In the past 2 months I have read every stillbirth story a google search would give me. Most of the mothers described the time spent holding their dead babies as peaceful, even sacred. I wish I had those feelings.

Holding Tom felt foreign. I didn't want to hold him.

He was wrapped up in one of those generic pink and blue pinstriped blankets. The same ones I had previously wrapped 5 of my warm, healthy newborns in. I looked him over. Tons of darling, curly hair. I knew he was going to have lots of hair because a)heartburn and b)Dr. Erickson had pointed out little white tufts of hair in an ultrasound around 25 or 30 weeks. Tom had the signature Barry nose. He had round, puffy cheeks and the most perfect, beautiful little lips. He did not look shriveled or abnormal at all. There was zero sign that he was not living, except that he was perfectly still. At some point the nurses took him from me, maybe to stamp his footprint. I was looking over at the nurse handling Tom, and she said, "Look, I want to show you something." She pointed to a little blister on Tom's ankle. She said, "you have to be careful when you handle him because his skin can rub off." Those words did it. I couldn't snuggle my boy or take care of him because I could damage him. His little body was starting to decompose. If I felt stiff and awkward before, it was tenfold when she handed him back to me.

Someone had gone to our house and picked out an outfit to dress Tom in (Michelle, I think?). Devin and I unwrapped the striped blanket and started to dress Tom. I was so worried about damaging his little body that I couldn't bear stuffing his arms and legs into the outfit after it proved difficult to force them through. I started to cry when I couldn't get him dressed, and we decided to just wrap him in a swaddling blanket I had recently bought and washed for him just the day before.

Visitors started arriving. I was happy for the excuse to hand Tom over to others because it was so terrible holding him. My parents were there, Devin's parents were there, Scottee and Oaklee, Becca, and it's possible that others were there too. Selena was there, documenting the whole thing. She was one of the first people I had texted after I found out Tom had died, because I knew there was only one chance to get perfect pictures of him, and no one else but Selena could achieve that.

Devin left to pick up the big kids. They went to school thinking the baby was coming early. It broke my heart knowing that Devin had to tell them that the long-awaited baby brother wouldn't be coming home. When Sam, Mollie and Tay came into my hospital room, they all 3 analyzed my face, and I could tell they were waiting to decide how they were feeling until they figured out how I was feeling. Sam and Taylor held Tom, but Mollie didn't want to. Mollie is most similar to my personality, so I totally understood how she felt.

After everyone had gone home and someone took the kids back to our house, Devin and I were left in the room with Tom. We took turns holding him and looked him over a few more times. I kissed his little cheek and noticed that it was starting to feel cool. And then I knew I was ready to be done holding him. I did not want to hold him cold. Babies are not supposed to be cold.

The nurses came and took Tom away. Devin stayed a long time, then went home to take care of the kids. And then it was just me.

The next day or so spent in the hospital was my personal ground zero. I was sitting there with no purpose, not taking care of Tom, not taking care of my other kids either. I heard a woman give birth in the next room and ached with jealousy. I sobbed shamelessly in front of all the nurses that were caring for me. One moment I distinctly remember, was hugging a sweet British nurse. We cried together and she rubbed my back. Another nurse later told me that the British nurse had lost 2 babies of her own, and was never able to have any more. She understood.

Leaving the hospital the next day empty-handed was devastating. My nurse-friend Erin, who has been my nurse with 2 or 3 of my other babies, wheeled me out to Devin's truck. I couldn't stop sobbing and I know I was making a scene. I remember having to take a break in one of the hallways before we reached the exit, clinging to the wall and sobbing and sobbing. And then I went home without Tom.


** ** ** ** ** **



Today marks 3 months since Tom was delivered with no heartbeat. This has been the hardest thing I (and Devin) have ever had to live through. I have learned so much about myself in these past months. I've learned so much about the people around me, and I've learned so much about God.

1. Sisterhood
The sisterhood that enveloped me after Tom's passing was something that has changed me. My sisters by blood, my sisters by marriage, and my sisters by choice all wrapped their arms around me and literally shared my burden. Anything I could write here wouldn't even begin to show what was done for me and the love that kept me from imploding. That's another post for another time.

2. Marriage
Devin and I HATE online PDA, but here I go. Devin Barry is the world's best man. I knew he was great and I knew I was blessed to have him, but the way he stepped up and took care of all the details, when he himself was also grieving, is something that has changed him in my eyes and changed our relationship. Marriage truly is a gift from God and I'm so glad I've got Devin.

3. My Heavenly Father
I find it to be no small gift that I am not angry about Tom passing away. I am not happy about it, and frankly bugged, but I really don't need to know why this happened. Honestly, the only feeling I have about the whole thing, is that I just want Tom here with me.

I know people lose their faith over things much less than the passing of a child. I know that loss and pain can cause anger and bitterness. But I also know in whom I trust. God has never let me down, not once. When the nurse struggled to find Tom's heartbeat during that first run-over with the doppler, I was pleading in my heart, "Please please please let him be ok!" But he wasn't. My prayer was not answered, but I do not feel forsaken.

Here's what I've figured out about my faith and about faith in general. Every prayer that I say, every time I open my scriptures, every time I go to church, and every time I go to the temple to learn about my Savior, I am creating a link between Him and me. I almost picture long strings, going between myself and Heavenly Father. Each time I do one of those things, I am creating a string, another link between the 2 of us. Each time I feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit or feel God's love, He is creating a string back to me. Years and years of creating these strings back and forth has created a big spiderweb-like net that caught me as I was and still am in the depths of sorrow. When I fell, that is what caught me. Having faith is an investment and it takes effort, but without it I would be lost.

I know that Tom's passing is for a purpose, but I don't think I'm going to be able to the one of those people that says they are grateful for their trials. I will never be grateful for my perfect boy dying. But I do know that my favorite verse (Romans 8:28) is still absolute truth. I know without a doubt that I will see Tom again and that our reunion will be too sweet for words. Devin has already figured out what he's going to say to Tom when we see him again. He just said he's going to say, "Dude, what the heck??!"