Carrying Kyla

For many women the count down to a due date holds a sense of excitement, anticipation, and a hint of anxiety. But for some the count down isn't joyful. Instead they hold tightly to each day of their pregnancy. They feel EVERY kick and flip and breathe it in deeply. They smile at the feel of life because they know something that most people never get to know. They know the day their child will die.

I held my breath as the moment drew closer. The ultra sound where I would get to see my baby's face, and hopefully find out if it is a son or a daughter. My husband, Jim, was sitting close beside me as the tech walked in and greeted each of us. She opened the chart and tilted her screen. "Mom, are you ready to see who this baby looks like? Are you wanting to know the sex today?"

"Yes. We do." I looked over at my husband as I said the words. He talked about having a surprise but I wanted to know so we could paint the nursery in flowers for a little girl or in blue stripes for a boy. So many decoration ideas flooded my mind. Pictures in magazines that had popped out to me over the past weeks. "This was it." I thought. I was going to know and soon would be able to call my little one by name. The warm gel made me jump. I turned my focus onto the small television in front of me.

"Let's see here. I'm going to take some measurements. Here are the feet... and here is a leg. The arms are crossed in front and its hand is by its mouth..." "Oh, how sweet. I hope it doesn't take to sucking its thumb when its born..." my thoughts wandered away.

"the stomache...and while we are down this way, it looks like its in a good position to determine if we have a boy or girl here... it looks like you deffinately have a little girl. It is a good angle. Can you see?" I couldn't see what I was supposed to see but I nodded anyways and just smiled and laughed (and paid attention) as she pointed it out clearer and explained for Jim. Hooray, my little girl! I had a boy, Isaac, at home so this was perfect!

"I am going to finish up with checking the heart and taking a measurement of the head. Here is the heartbeat, going steady. 162 beats a minute. Now here is her face, her nose and eyes..."

I almost missed the silence that happened a split second later in my admiration for that sweet little nose, but it was a silence that was deafening so all my excitement vanished into the hole that was left.

Jim was the one to venture the question and break the silence, "is everything okay?"

"God," I whispered a prayer, Jim had noticed the silence too so it wasn't just in my head. The tech wasn't answering, she was fiddling with the controls and swerving her stick all over my rounding belly. She jotted down some notes and placed them in an envelope. She sealed it and fliped on the light. As she wiped the gel from my stomache she instructed us to head back to the dr.s office with the envelope and hand it over to him. You could have cut the air. The tension and worry was so thick. We just needed her to say that everything was okay. Why wouldn't she say those words?...

It turned out that everything was not okay. The doctor informed us that our beautiful daughter was missing most of her skull that covers her developing brain. He sent us to a specialist to confirm and unfortunatly she agreed with the findings. Our daughter was not going to live a day outside of my womb and may possibly not even make it to be full-term.

That was the day my veiws changed. No longer was the world colorful. The feeling of the sun on my face was no longer comforting. Jim and I tried to not fight but our emotions were pulled so tight that one happened almost every day. I questioned my faith, my purpose and my trust. I tried as best as I could to not hate my friends for being able to smile about their babies. I began feeling like I was carrying a ticking bomb.

Durring this time, too, our friends were harder to talk to. No one wanted to mention my daughter, so they skirted the issue and in turn skirted us altogether. We knew they were praying. And eventually I realized that was what I needed to do as well. I began first by yelling at God for what he had done. I begged for him to fix what he had broken. I begged him to fix his mistake. That's all it was right? Just a big mistake. But God began working and he began changing my prayer. At first I didn't even realize I was smiling again. It wasn't the same happy smile I had once wore, but it was a sweet, sad smile that drifted accross my lips whenever I felt Kyla kick. She was so strong and fiesty at times. I don't know how the change came over me, but I began thanking God for Kyla. I thanked him for the moments I got to feel her soft thumps and for the nights I couldn't sleep because she was summersaulting or trying to break my ribs. I knew this was probably the only way I would have to remember her. These moments were the only ones I would have to speak of her personality and of her attitude. And I needed to let her have a personality. She was my daughter after all.

The doctors scheduled a section in hopes that it would cause less stress on Kyla and allow us a few more hours with her then we otherwise would get. We requested that no life saving efforts be made for her so that we could enjoy every moment we could have without nurses or doctors getting in the way. It was bad enough I would need a surgery. Needless to say we stopped counting down the days. We tried to enjoy each day like it would never end. Some might say that was naive of us, but I believe it helped us cherish the days better.

I had not had maternity pictures taken when I was pregnant with Isaac but I insisted on a sitting with Kyla. I wanted proof of her life, and I wanted them to be beautiful. Jim and Isaac were in several posses as well. Kyla was part of our family. I felt I would need those family portaits to cherish her with. I didn't want to be told to ever forget her.

As the day grew closer my prayers were more fervrent. I kept thinking how strong she felt inside me. I could not imagine how she could be thriving inside me only to die when she comes into the world. I prayed for peace and for clarity in the time I would have with her. I prayed, most importantly, for His will to be done.

The appointed day came. Who would have thought that my daughter's date of birth would also be her death date? Who would believe that the air that filled her lungs with those first breaths would signify the beginning of the end as they would be among the very last breaths she would breathe? I was able to hear Kyla cry her soft sweet cry before she grew silent. I was able to hold her to my chest and feel her warm sweet body and touch her wrinkled and beautiful hands and count her ten tiny toes before she grew still in my arms. Jim was able to hold her and Isaac was able to kiss her cheek. I cried as I realized he wouldn't understand that he was her brother. He would never remember his sister Kyla. The nurses were amazing, they took photos for us so we could just focus on her. She was perfect. We put her in a pretty pink dress and placed a big white daisy headband carefully around her head. We kissed her soft tummy and her chubby cheeks and pink mouth. I cried when she moaned and heaved her tiny chest for the final time. Kyla had lived just 106 minutes. I didn't let go of her, instead I held her tighter willing my breath to somehow fill her lungs wishing that my heart would beat for her. Feeling my chest heaving against her tiny body. I remember feeling Jim wrap his hands around Kyla's back his arms around me. I remember feeling him sob against me. His weight pushing me deeper into her. I secretly willed him to push hard enough that I would become one with her. That somehow I could absorb Kyla into my heart where she would forever be safe.

I don't know how long I held tightly to her. I know I didn't dare look up from her fragile body. However, as with everything, we had to let go at some point. Kyla was gone. That body wasn't going to bring her back. We placed a beautiful blanket in the bassinet and placed her carefully down on it. She looked beautiful. Like she was sleeping. I had to keep telling myself that she was being cuddled and rocked by God now. I still felt so horrible laying her down like I was leaving her alone. I felt like she was screaming for me. The staff didn't stop taking pictures just because she had died. They told us we could take them if we wanted them or they would keep them for us until we were ready to see them. My precious little Kyla was not comming back. I would keep those pictures forever.

Kyla's funeral was taken care of by our church and she was burried in a plot gifted by the city next to other infants who had died or been still-born. I quietly thanked God for the hour and a half I was able to share with my daughter. And I asked God to take care of her for me. I still miss her, every day, but I know he is a perfect daddy.

As you probably know this story didn't end with a funeral. The death of a child, no matter if that child has grown old, or if it has never breathed a breath on this earth, brings new struggles each day for the parents. New and renewed sorrows pop up through everyday circumstances. Standing in line at the grocery store something reminds you of them. Someone at the park shouts their name and the tears just begin to flow. Please take the time to pray for someone you may know who has lost a child. Something we don't even want to imagine. Don't ever take your children for granted.

This is a story I wrote last year while working at the hospital. It is fictional. The characters only exist in my mind. But too many parents go through the loss of a child. This is meant as a tribute and not to hurt anyone.