The past few days I have been having flashbacks of the day Eisley’s heart stopped beating. It all comes back to me, like a nightmare, only this is our reality.
I’m lying in the hospital bed as they use the monitor to search for her heartbeat. 5 minutes pass, then 15, then 30. I think deep inside I knew but I kept hoping. 45 minutes passed and I began to have a hard time remembering to just breath.
My heart was racing and they kept finding my heartbeat low where hers normally was. Each time they would find my heart and I could hear it beating, I would just close my eyes and listen and feel my own heart in my chest. This wasn’t her heart, it was mine. My heart racing because I knew she was gone.
They called Dr. Hill in and he came quickly along with an ultrasound machine. I felt like I was in a horrible nightmare as they plugged it in and kept thinking “This can’t be happening. I just felt her this morning”. They put the warm jelly on my stomach and I had to force my eyes to look at the screen that would tell me if my baby girl was still hanging on or not. I could see right away, she wasn’t reacting as she normally did when we had ultrasounds. I could see she was still. Dr. Hill brought the wand over my belly for a few minutes and finally pointed to the screen. He told me we were looking at her heart and that is was no longer beating.
I immediately began moaning and crying out “Oh God, no” over and over. The most horrible moment, realizing she was no longer with me.
I couldn’t even bring myself to call Ted and I had one of my favourite nurses make the dreaded call. Ted told me when he saw my number pop up on his phone, but heard Deb’s voice instead of mine; he knew. Our girl was gone.
Because I was alone so often, I had this horrible feeling that if I ever did lose Eisley, that I would be alone when I found out. And I was. My body shook from shock and sobbing for what seemed like forever but was probably not even an hour. I felt so alone and confused during that time. But when I finally regained my composure, I realized, I was most definitely not alone. Dr. Hill and two of my nurses had stayed by my side and Dr. Hill was actually rubbing my leg to comfort me, which I didn’t notice until I looked around. Dr. Hill stood close to me with tears in his eyes and my nurses were crying as well as they stood by my bedside. I wasn’t completely alone; I was surrounded by two nurses who I have grown to love and our amazing Doctor who has been such an incredible blessing throughout our pregnancy. Once I really opened my eyes, I soaked up the comfort they offered me in that time and the tears they shared with me meant the world to me.
One thing I still wrestle with is that I didn’t feel God’s presence when I found out my daughter was gone. Maybe it was because of the hopes and dreams I had for her were gone in an instant, but in that few hours of my life, I felt so confused, and alone and even abandoned by the One I placed my hope in. That is the one part of the week that still bothers my heart greatly and I’m still trying to process the entire day… and the time I felt without Him. But He did provide me with people who loved me and grieved with me, until Ted was able to get to Denver.
I guess where I am at currently, in this hour and sporadically throughout the past few days is denial. It sounds so twisted, that I can remember these horrible moments yet I feel like this can’t be happening. She can’t be gone. My heart still can’t believe what my mind keeps telling me. She is gone. I think that is why I keep having these flashbacks. I want to “make sense” of what happened. I just want to understand what happened and it even ask it replays over and over it just doesn’t seem real. Denial. One of the “stages of grieving”, I know, I’ve heard. I go through probably all of the stages throughout one day and over and over sometimes. It will probably be like this for a while and I am really trying to let myself feel what I need to feel.
Yesterday little things I read or heard or saw kept triggering this feeling of “it just doesn’t seem fair” in me. We had dreams and hopes for our daughter that were all gone in the instant they told us that her heart had stopped beating. Yesterday I kept thinking of Chase and how he will never know his little baby sister Eisley. They were going to be 16 months apart and they were going to be best friends. He was going to be her protector and give her big sloppy wet kisses. He was going to be the best big brother Eisley could ever had. All of those dreams are gone… and it breaks my heart more than words can say.
I will always tell Chase and someday our other children, of Eisley and who she was and the legacy she left behind, but it does break my heart that they will never personally know her and grow up with her. I watch Chase run around and I mourn the loss of his baby sister who I want so badly to be running along side him.
Our hearts and minds are having a hard time connecting the dots between what is reality and where we had such hopes and dreamed for our daughter. It’s even hard for me to put into words because it’s so obvious physically… she is gone… yet my heart doesn’t quite grasp that fully.
I know this is kind of a raw post, but it’s where I am at and I always want to be real and raw. Will you please pray for me? For Ted? For our hearts and minds to begin to connect the dots as we mourn the dreams we had for our Eisley and at the loss of her life. I am not strong, I am really the weakest I have ever felt. It’s not that I am in an unhealthy place but I’m hurting and aching and in need of your prayers. Ted is too.
Thanks for your love and support in this time.