I have felt every feeling there is to feel now. Before November 13th, I never truly knew what it meant to grieve or had any clue of the emotions that could so easily drown my soul. In these past two weeks and four days, my faith has never been tested more, my spirit has never been crushed so hard, and my mind has never been so completely unsure of what it was supposed to be thinking. In fact, that first 5 or 6 hours, it was impossible to think. My mind was void and empty. But at the same time there were so many thoughts, questions, emotions, and scenarios flooding my mind- I literally couldn't process a single thing. I believe those first few hours I was just in shock. My brain somehow protecting itself from the pain. But all of that is a bit different now. My world had come crashing down in one stupid freaking second, and I feel everything now.
I think it will serve me well to write, so I'll start with what happened November 12th and 13th. Tuesday, the 12th, I was scheduled to go see my midwife for an exam and get a sonogram done. (The week before, I had developed high blood pressure and my amniotic fluid was dropping.) Turns out my fluid had dropped from a 10 to a 7, so that afternoon at about 12:30, I was induced with a balloon catheter. No drugs. I went home to have cramps- the balloon was expected to thin out my cervix and dilate it to about a 4 or 5. So I went home expecting to labor there until the famous "5-1-1 rule" had me calling the midwife to come to the birthing center and have my baby boy. It all went downhill at about 11:30 that night.
My husband, John-Michael, called my midwife at about 11:30… my contractions were ridiculously on top of each other and I couldn't talk through them. It was time to go! I wish I could tell you I was excited at this point, but I was in so much pain, it was unreal. I wanted so badly to get into the tub. We get to the birthing center, she checks me and I am only 3 cm dilated!!! This was not good for the amount of pain I was in. Then my world began to crash. She couldn't find the heartbeat. She could only find mine. The next hour or so seemed like an eternity and the blink of an eye all at the same time. We immediately rushed to Baylor hospital, 3 mins down the street. But my baby was gone. I believe my baby Jaxon passed away sometime between 10pm tuesday night (the last time I remember feeling my Jaxon kick me in the ribs) and midnight wednesday morning (when we arrived at the birthing center.) I would give anything to redo that day. Anything except my husband.
The staff at Baylor was amazing. Their compassion for John-Michael and I was unexpected and so comforting. I immediately got an epidural- what's the point of a natural labor now?!? I didn't care about anything anymore. My mind has never been so inactive… just a white noise. My sweet baby boy was gone… I didn't have any thoughts. My mind was void. I couldn't cry. I felt sorry that this happened to my husband. I was worried about my husband. I've never seen a grown man fall to his knees and sob the way he did. I've never seen so much agony in someone's eyes and I pray that I will never see that face on my husband again. All I could do was tell my John-Michael that our sweet Jaxon was in heaven now. What did that even mean?!? Did I even really believe that?!? Like I said, my faith had never been tested more. It is easy to say that when you don't so desperately need it to be true. "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." I repeated these words over and over in my head, but I still had not shed one tear.
It wasn't until about 7 in the morning that I was alone in the hospital room. I looked at the baby station directly in front of me. You know, the station where they take your newborn baby and weigh him and measure how long he is, they check on his breathing and his coloring. It hit me like a sledge hammer right between the eyes. I wouldn't get to hear my Jaxon cry. I would never hear my baby cry. The pain and agony of losing my sweet Jaxon finally hit me. Regret, guilt, anger, emptiness, sadness, more anger, more pain, more regret. What if we had chose to birth in the hospital? Why in the world didn't we induce labor in the hospital?!?!?! There would have been a monitor on me and my Jaxon. We would have known that my baby boy was struggling and he would have had a chance at surviving. My uterus crushed my baby. I killed my baby. My body betrayed me and most unforgivably it betrayed the baby it was supposed to nourish and protect. These thoughts are so dangerous, but they are so undeniably real.
My Jaxon was born 9 days early on Wednesday, November 13 at 4:37 pm. He weighed 6lbs 12oz and he was at least 21inches long. I knew he would be long. (He definitely was NOT the 5 1/2 lb skinny and frail looking baby my midwife and sonographer thought he would be.) My sweet boy looked exactly like his daddy. The only thing I could claim was his chin. My baby had my chin. He had beautiful hair that had blondes and reds and browns, all which could have come from either side. He had chubby cheeks. He was perfect. I miss his baby legs and feet under my right ribs. I miss my Jaxon desperately.