The day my daughter died

April 21, 2009

I sat down and wrote out my experience from a year ago. Then I went back through and read it and thought, "Blah, blah, blah. They're just words." I wondered why I felt the need to write it all out yet again. And then I realized that I am desperate inside to prove to the world that I am a mother - I gave birth. I may not have a child to show for it, but I have a mother's spirit. Also, I don't want this experience to be just something that happened to me and my family. This is my daughter's life we're talking about here. That being said, here is my account of what happened a year ago:

One year. I was wondering what that really meant on my drive in to work this morning. It's just a number of days strung together consecutively; all without my daughter in them. It was one year ago today that we found out Harper had died. I was scheduled to go in for surgery the morning of April 21, 2008. Dr. Villar was going to remove my colon. Nothing was helping the disease and I was in a lot of pain. All the doctors felt that surgery, even though I was pregnant, was the right thing to do. I didn't know if I could hold on any longer. But something happened the night of April 20th. My number of bowel movements decreased significantly. If I remember correctly, I only had three or four that night; maybe seven in the 24 hours preceding the scheduled surgery.

Dr. Ismael came in that morning and said that with that kind of improvement, he felt we should put the surgery on hold and try another seven to ten day cycle of treatment. I sobbed. I was in so much pain. "But this could buy more time for the baby," he said. "Then I'll do it. I'll try another cycle of treatment." I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was so disappointed that I wasn't going to surgery. I just wanted the pain to be over.

I had asked my immediate family members to be there for the surgery. I was scared; my health was so bad, I was afraid I wouldn't make it out of surgery. My body was struggling to hang on. I wanted my family with me; I needed them there. My mom, dad, and brother were there that morning. My sister was flying in the next day (April 22nd). The OB team had said they would be present for the surgery in case they were needed. They said they would do an ultrasound before the surgery and immediately after to make sure everything was okay with Harper.

The OB team came into my room bright and early with the ultrasound machine and we explained to them that we were putting off surgery for the time being as I was starting to improve. "Well as long as we're here, let's do an ultrasound anyway," the doctor offered. My brother and my dad left the room. I asked my mom if she wanted to stay with Jeremy and me so she could see her granddaughter on the screen, so she stayed in the room. I pulled up my hospital gown, my stomach was full of stretch marks and was huge and sloshy. They squirted the jelly on my stomach and started moving the Doppler around.

Doctors had been trying to do ultrasounds on me to look for blood clots recently, but because I was carrying so much fluid they couldn't see a thing. I knew the ultrasounds were not really getting the job done, so I wasn't very concerned when it took the OB some time to find Harper. But then there she was, up on the screen. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was still there. The OB kept moving the Doppler around. "Just a second. I'm going to go get someone else for some help," she said. Suddenly I was afraid. I asked my dad and Jason to come in the room. "I guess she's having a hard time finding the heartbeat." In my mind though, as long as Harper was there and I could see her, she was okay. She hadn't gone anywhere.

Everyone was quiet as the OB came in with another doctor. She pointed out Harper's spine on the screen. "This is her spine, and this is her chest cavity. And this here is where her heartbeat should be." She kept moving the Doppler around. I didn't get it at first. Then I heard my brother, who was standing behind me, start to cry. Oh my God. She's telling me my baby is dead. "Could you please stop now?" I asked as she kept pressing on my stomach, trying to find a heartbeat that wasn't there.

I don't remember a lot about the rest of that day. I was in a fog. I know there were lots of tears and sobbing. And I had this sense of determination. I wanted the dead baby out of me. I didn't want to walk around with her inside me anymore. I wanted to be unconscious. I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted out of the hospital. I wanted to stop having diarrhea. I just wanted to go home and go back to my life before. Please, please couldn't that happen for me?

The OB told me I could wait a couple of days to deliver the baby, but I didn't want to wait. I wanted to get it over with. (There is a whole other story to tell about the decision to deliver Harper instead of have her evacuated, but I'll tell that one at a different time. I really don't want to go into that right now.) That night, April 21, 2008, they moved me to the labor and deliver floor and started the inducement process. They put all these little sticks up inside me that were supposed to open my cervix and help the mucus plug loosen. I really don't remember that night. I think because I was no longer carrying a living baby they were allowed to give me other medications and stuff ("stuff" being that I was probably in shock). I remember sleeping a lot that night.

I don't really remember the day of April 22nd either. My memory starts with the evening of April 22nd. They had hooked this contraption up to me that was weighted down to help the mucus plug unplug. They gave me an epidural somewhere in there. (I remember that.) And I remember being hooked up to the computer that tracked my contractions. They were giving me whatever medication to induce labor.

I was just laying there, waiting for my body to do what it needed to do. (I should tell you that in February of 2008, Jeremy's mom had open heart surgery. She was having lots of complications and was also in the hospital, just an hour and a half away from us for much of the time I was in the hospital.) Minor contractions had started. My brother was sitting with me in the room. Everyone else was somewhere else. Suddenly I realized that I had seen Jeremy walk out of the room in a hurry. "Where's Jeremy? Is something wrong with his mom?" I asked Jason. "You need to ask your husband that," he told me and left the room to go get Jeremy.

Jeremy walked in the room with a somber expression on his face. "What happened Jeremy? Did something happen to your mom?" I asked and started to cry. "Abby, my mom passed away tonight," Jeremy said and reached over and held onto me. We both sobbed. I couldn't believe this was happening to us. I told him if he needed to go be with his dad he should go. He told me he couldn't leave me right now; we needed to focus on getting through the delivery okay. He said he told his family he would be thinking about them, but that he could only deal with me getting through the delivery right now. He said he would call them as soon as he knew I was okay.

My family couldn't believe that all this was happening to us. "You can't make this stuff up," Jason said.

The room was dark, just the light above my bed was on. I was sitting up high on the bed. I felt some cramping start to happen. The OB came in and checked me and said it looked like it could be another twelve hours or so before I was ready to deliver. I'm guessing that was around 9:30 or 10 p.m. Everyone but Jeremy went home to get some sleep. My sister's flight was due to arrive and she was going to pick up my mom from the house and come to the hospital to see me later that night. Jeremy was going to stay the night with me in the hospital room.

Not long after that I told the nurse I was having some cramping, and could I get more pain meds? She sent the anesthesiologist in. Sara and my mom arrived. The anesthesiologist gave me another bolus and I told him I felt some pressure between my legs. He went to get the OB and when she came in she said sure enough, I was ready to deliver. I told Sara and my mom to stay with Jeremy and me, so they did. It was just one strong push and Harper was born at 11:20 p.m. Someone called Jason and my dad and they came right away.

Everyone was so quiet. A man came over and asked me if we knew what the sex of the baby was. I told him we were told it was a girl, "Harper Lee Cashman." He said that was right. They asked if I wanted to hold her and I said I did. The sweetest nurse gently cleaned her up. My sister took pictures for me. It sounds strange, but I knew I would want pictures. By the time Harper was cleaned up and ready for us to hold her, my whole family was there.

We all took turns holding her. We inspected her feet and her legs and her tiny little arms. We cried and laughed. We commented on who she looked like. My family left Jeremy and I alone to look at her together. I could feel the heat coming from her body, and realized that really the heat I was feeling was from my own body, still left over in her. We told each other that Grandma Cashman was in heaven taking care of her. We cried some more.

That was the night of Harper's birth, April 22, 2008. It was the most sacred night of my life. It was the most bittersweet thing that has ever happened to me. That little girl changed my world forever.

You should know that we found out the next morning that Jeremy's mother was alive. He had gotten word of her dying just before they were able to resuscitate her. The next morning when he was able to call and find out how his family was doing, they told him she was alive and in the hospital. I still like to believe that Grandma Cashman was there to welcome Harper and look after her for those few moments that their spirits may have been together.

Thank you for sharing in the memory of Harper with me. I feel like by sharing her story I am giving witness to her little life; making it more real to me. Peace to you today.
Abby