Sleeping Beauty

My husband had recently received employee of the quarter as his work, and as a reward, we were sent to Chicago for a trip that started our wonderful, but ended in tragedy. On May 15, 2014, our baby girl, Emma Elizabeth Bradley, would be born sleeping, never able to wake, to cry, to move. No one should EVER have to go through such a miserable experience.

What happened: On May 14th, 2014 at around 7pm, I started to feel awful pain and pressure in my stomach. At first, the typical thoughts go through your head: maybe its a bowel movement (sorry if that is TMI) or maybe I ate too much. After dinner, we were supposed to catch a cab to go see a comedy show about 10 minutes away, but instead, my pain progressed to the point I could barely walk. Tim just wanted to get us back to the hotel 3 blocks away from where we were eating dinner. I could barely walk. Cramps began, back pain began. At that time we determined that our best bet was to head to the hospital about 5 blocks away in a CAB of course.

In Emergency, they asked me to change into a gown, and go ahead and give them a urine sample. At that time I discovered an immense amount of blood on me, and on the floor. Instantly, I started to cry. There shouldn't be that much blood when you are 21 weeks pregnant! After they did an exam, they determined that my water was outside of my cervix and it was ready to burst. The doctor blatantly stated "sorry, but this pregnancy will not be going on any longer." Tim and I started crying. We were shaking in fear. Our first baby, our first experience in that department. Being in too much pain to ask questions sends you into a worse misery. All I wanted to ask was:

- Will our baby be okay?
- Can we put her in NICU?
- Can she survive if we deliver her and fly us to Michigan to a childrens hospital?

My fear progressed but so did my pain. Tim was trying to call my mom, as well as his parents to let them know what was going on. Not only that but the nurse was trying to get more information from him. I felt so bad. I couldn't even tell them my name it was so bad.

After about an hour in Emergency, they were sending me up to labor and delivery. Immediately they asked if I wanted an Epidural. Thank the lord for that. My pain soon stopped, and I couldn't feel anything. I didn't want to feel anything. All I could keep saying is "this isn't supposed to be happening!"... "my baby girl is healthy!" After another hour, they stated that my water was now coming down the canal. They would like it to stay intact so that we could get the baby out easier. It took two seconds, and I felt a "pop"... Emma was born sleeping. She didn't cry. She didn't fuss. She was so peaceful.

You're asked before the birth if you want to see or hold your baby even though she wouldn't be born alive. I couldn't. Not that night. Although I regret it now, at that time I couldn't have handled it. My nerves were shot. I couldn't drink. I couldn't eat. I was sick to my stomach. Looking at that curtain, knowing my baby girl was behind it when she should be in my belly, was the worst torture anyone could endure. Tim held her and seen her. He was brave. He stated that she was small (she was born 13oz, and 10 1/4 inches). Her eyelids were still sealed. But he claimed she was perfect. The hospital takes pictures and keeps them pretty much forever. 30 years down the line, I could call the hospital and retrieve those photos if I wished.

My heart hurts every day. My stomach feels empty. My boobs are full of milk (sorry another TMI). But there is no baby to hold, no baby to feed, no baby to hear cry. Something inside of me died that night. Rather it be part of my soul, or even my heart. I can't stand to see children on TV. I have hidden all of my friends baby and childrens pictures. I can't handle seeing them right now. I asked the counselor if that is selfish, but he stated that it is all about grieving. I have to grieve how ever I see possible. If that means deleting photos of babies, then so be it. If that means deleting people off Facebook, then so be it. The stores are the hardest. How can you not be sad when you see a family of 4, with parents that can hardly stand taking their children to the store? It breaks my heart.

Not only am I dealing with grief, I am dealing with finding out who truly is there for me. Most people ask what happened and then never talk to me again. Most people say sorry, and that is enough for me. Not knowing what to say when you lose an innocent life is perfectly normal. I have my family and Tim's family that have been very supportive. Then I have a few select people that have actually asked how I am (sadly I can count on one hand). I thank the people who have been there for me. Who put up with my depressing posts. It is really hard to be "happy" right now. I may get out of bed and try to put a smile on, but in reality, if it wasn't for my husband, and my two amazing puppies, I would be living in bed. The walls of this house is like my sanctuary. I am protected from the outside world in here. Protected from the harsh but innocent words of other individuals.

To go from not only picking out your babies name, to falling in love with the growing child inside of you, to buying clothes and items your baby would need, to having nothing is the sadest thing I will ever go through with my husband. You picture a baby playing in the yard with your dogs, or even on a swing set. You picture holding and feeding and playing. You picture your babies nursery. But now, I will never know what Emma would have grown into. I will never experience her firsts. I will never see her laugh. Her personality. Who she looks like more. Would she have had curly or straight hair? Would she have hazel eyes? Those are the things that make you fall in love more and more with your baby, the life growing inside of your belly.

We love you Emma Elizabeth. More than you will ever get to know. We will never forget you, and we will display what we have left of you, especially love.