My sweet angel is
Forever loved and always missed
December 30 2011 – February 18 2012
My baby, my little girl, my third child, was born very early on Dec.30 she was born a undiagnosed frank breach which means she came out bum first, she was folded like a pancake, she cut off her own airway by being folded in half. She also swallowed meconium and was deemed “flat” at birth, a nice? way of saying almost dead I guess. Was she flat because she was slowly dying the last three weeks she was trapped in my uterus? We found out my placenta was so badly deteriorated that she probably wasn’t getting anything from it. If we estimated my due date according to my last period (March 6) not the “dating ultrasound” she would have been almost four weeks late when she finally came, they might have induced me and saved the horror that her birth has traumatized me with.
In British Columbia they rely solely on the ultrasound. They had to resuscitated my baby girl, but first they had to clear her airway of meconium as the precious seconds without oxygen passed I screamed from my bed knowing that something was very wrong and at eight minutes of life they were performing CPR on my tiny 5lb baby, I was never most scared than at that moment, they did revive her, but without knowing how much time without oxygen to the brain, she was inevitably in trouble. I didn’t get to hold my baby until she was 4 days old.
Off we rushed to BC Children’s hospital, where we stayed for four weeks. In the next few months there was definitely more downs than ups, you could see the pain on her face even though she never cried, she endured too many tests for any baby, but in hindsight maybe not enough. After four weeks of driving back and forth every day, crying, worrying, and not knowing her future. Amazingly my Lily girl was able to come home on January 26th almost one month old, although she had to feed through a tube in her stomach and was behind a bit in her milestones, they started coming none the less and we were just ecstatic to have her home finally.
When she started to smile at me, it melted my heart.
I still worried everyday at what the future held but I had her in my arms at home. I regret never bathing her, I was too scared of that stupid tube in her stomach I washed her with a cloth, I regret not holding her more, or at least holding her during her tube feedings. Why was I so scared to touch my baby, I didn’t let myself get close because on another level I think I knew she was not going to make it. Then one horrible night two weeks later February 11th, she turned blue, she stopped breathing, I performed CPR on my tiny baby girl, I screamed to call an ambulance, we were rushed once again to the hospital. The next morning she woke up seemingly better, I fed her, she smiled at me for what I know now as the last time she would ever look at me and smile, God if I only knew that would be the last time.
Then it happened again and again, she looked like she was choking, she turned blue, they took us back to Children where we were to find out after many more scans that Lily’s anatomy of her heart and windpipe were so rare and abnormal she could not breathe on her own, she would die if they took her tube out this time, that knowledge was devastating.
My baby girl was put on morphine to ease the pain because even with a breathing tube she had “episodes” were she couldn’t breathe, they were happening more and more frequently she was telling us she had to go.
We made the decision, its not really a decision as much as its torture to think there is a choice. But we decided to take her breathing tube out. We were told she would eventually die regardless. So we called her brothers to come and say goodbye, the song playing in the background of the hospital was ‘Home’ by Michael Bubble, weird I had never heard music in the hospital before, Lily wanted to go home. We played the same song for her at her funeral during the slide show one week after she died. My baby, Lily died in my arms at seven weeks of life on February 18th 2012. She was fifty two days old. I will never be the same. My heart will always ache. I am thankful for those smiles and the time she gave me at home. I realize it was a miracle that she lived past birth.
I will miss my Lily for the rest of my life. I will never be the same.
I will always wonder how old she would be today.