Whispers of the Heart

Comfort & Reassurance

2011-05-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

What we are trying to reflect in this website, is to give you a place to find comfort and reassurance and give others an understanding. I don't have any medical training or offer any medical advise, there is too much medical emphasis already or medically we find no answers to our pain. I want to help comfort you where the real pain is, the Heart, no matter what the medical implication is or isn't, you have suffered a great loss. Let us help you with love and let us help you, to cherish the memory of your baby.

Reflecting

2011-05-25T18:52:00.003-07:00

Now as I think of you, I often think of you with a smile, knowing you are in a better place and I am at peace with that. Some days I miss that I didn’t get to meet you.

I know that one day I will. To hold your hand, to kiss your cheek, to tuck your hair behind your ear, to look into your eyes, to feel your soft skin and to tell you…..
I love you

I think back to the time when you were taken away, – when I felt lonely and confused. That I didn’t get to hold your little hands or tickle your little toes.

But now, because of you, I can make a difference. Although your stay was only short, I know you brought with you a purpose. And because of you…. others will gain comfort, as I needed, when I had to say goodbye to you, but there was nothing for me to treasure your memory.

You were too small for a funeral and too small for people to acknowledge.

The pain, it eases with time, but you never forget your little ones, you treasure them in your heart and you remember them often.

My grief and pain are no more, but I still sometimes shed a tear for my little ones,
as I will miss seeing them grow.
I will always cherish them.
I will always remember them

I hope others can find comfort here,
Because of You.

Written by Robyn Spring

A Memory of You

2011-05-25T18:52:00.001-07:00

My son he often asks of you
and wonders where you’d be
I told him you were sick
and now that you are free.

He holds you in his Heart
this little 5 year old
He never got to meet you
but listens when he’s told

of your new home in Heaven
and what it would be like

He joins me in this passion
of keeping you alight
with memory keepsake boxes
that many hold so tight

So when a box is given
my love goes with it too
because that is all
I have left of you

By Robyn Spring
5th December, 2006

The Littlest Angel

2011-05-25T18:51:00.001-07:00

I'm only a small child, not much do I know.
But God holds my hand as I look down below.
I'm here with the Father in the most wonderful placeyet I can't feel much joy when I see your sad face.
Your heart has been broken, I can see from up hereas you struggle along and you wipe every tear.
If only I had words I could send you todaythat would tell you I'm home and I'm really okay.
Heaven is so beautiful with sparkles and white wingsand the angels are teaching me so many things.
I'll grow and mature in this Heavenly landwhile holding on tightly to the Father's soft hand.
So don't grieve for me now but find peace in your soul,and know God has finally made your little one whole.
And even if you can't seem to understand "why",please know in your heart that our love didn't die.
He tells me that just for a time we must waitand then I can meet you at Heaven's front gate!
So for now, know I love you in my own special wayand we will meet again on that glorious day!

For My Friend

2011-05-25T18:50:00.001-07:00

My dear friend,
I visited your daughter recently,
and although it’s just a plaque,
I cried as I remembered
for they weren’t that far apart.

You and I we journeyed,
although it was cut short,
from sharing pregnant dates
to something – who would have thought?

I shed a tear for your little one,
for I remembered mine too
and a memory of the day
of a promise made
to help each other through!

By Robyn Spring

If Roses Grow in Heaven

2011-05-25T18:49:00.003-07:00

If roses grow in heaven Lord
Please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my daughters arms
And tell her they’re from me.
Tell her that I love her and
Miss her, and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
And hold her for a while
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it everyday, but there is an ache
Within my heart that will never go away

Take a Moment to Consider

2011-05-25T18:49:00.001-07:00

Your loved one has just lost the most precious thing, a piece of their heart and soul – their baby.

Don’t be afraid to cry with them, share with them their pain, let them cry, allow them to grieve over their loss. Let them talk about it and don’t just assume if they are having a good day or haven’t spoken about it for weeks, that they’re over it.

Call them, let them know that you care. Be honest, if you don’t know what to say or do for them. But let them know you are there for them, anytime.

Acknowledge their baby. They want to feel that their baby did exist. Their hopes, dreams, love, excitement, happiness, protective instinct was taken away in an instant and they are left feeling lost, lonely, failure, guilt, confused and isolated.

If she does fall pregnant again, be understanding by considering her anxiousness and fears for this baby, especially at the same stage as her last. Acknowledge her fears, they are real and valid.

For Only a Short Time

2011-05-25T18:48:00.001-07:00

I knit you in your mothers womb,
you needed to be there,
it was only a short time
but you needed to be prepared.

I created you, intracately,
in the secret place,
your tiny frame not hidden from me
or your delicate face

I needed you to feel the warmth
the rhythm of her beat
the softness of her voice,
although you would not meet

I had a plan, you will one day see,
why I brought you home to me.
It’s only in your deepest pain
that you call unto me,
even if only to ask
“how could this be?”

My answer to you, is cant you see
I just want you to look to me

I didn’t mean to bring you harm
but bring you back to me,
to feel the fathers loving arm
and home where you should be

Although its hard to understand,
that leaving you with empty arms
could be part of a plan,
to reinforce my love
a love I’ve always had.

Written by Robyn Spring

Secret Places

2011-05-25T18:47:00.001-07:00

....when I was growing there in secret, you knew that I was there - you saw me before I was born.
Psalm 139:15b-16a

FOR DADS & GRANDPARENTS

2011-05-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

When there is a loss of a child, there are others that also need to be considered....there's not only Dad, but also Grandparents. I want to be sure that both these get a heresay too and that your thoughts and feelings are welcomed and appreciated too. You also, have suffered a great loss.

I invite any Dads or Grandparents, who would like to share their story of how your loss effected you. I am also asking how Dads could be more catered for as I also feel there is a need there for these men. We never hear how the loss of a child effects our men.

Grandparents your testimony could also encourage other Grandparents out there who are stepping in, to support their children through this time, when they too, are suffering. You could be holding some vital keys to helping others overcome their loss and pain or maybe you are searching for some help to understand how you could be of help.

If you would like to be included in this page email me or add your experience as a comment at the bottom of this page.

STILLBIRTH

2011-05-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

Do you have an experience you would like to share? Email Me. Please specify this title page for your story. Or you may add your experience at the bottom of this page as a comment.

The following story was provided by Erin (Mother of Amara).

Amara Jane Lawrence - Amara was born on Tuesday, March 19, 2002 at 7:15 P.M. She weighed 8 pounds, 1.5 ounces and was 51 cm long. She had red hair like her mummy.

All our hopes and dreams came true when we found out that I was pregnant with you. We knew that you were a girl. At 18 weeks we saw your petite body in an ultrasound, your little arms waving and your legs kicking, and your heart beating so strong. It was such a joy having you grow inside of me. Your daddy would feel my tummy and you would kick and somersault to let him know that you were there. Daddy would ask your brother, Kurtis where mummy’s baby was and Kurtis would pat my belly where you lay inside.

We decorated your room with fairies and butterflies. Your wooden cot and matching change table had heart-shaped holes cut in them. A rocking chair was by the window, and outside that window was a frangipani tree which had been given to you by a friend. All your dresses were hanging up in your wardrobe, one of them was a pretty pink silky one that your nanna gave to you at the baby shower.

How anxious we were to see you! The day before your due date I went to the hospital because I thought my waters might have broken (which is how it had happened for Kurtis). At the hospital the midwife said that my membranes were intact and that everything was fine, so she sent us home. At least we got to hear your strong little heartbeat on the monitor one more time.

Two days later, early in the morning I felt mild contractions. I lay in bed and watched the clock to time each one. Some were 10 minutes apart, some 7, some 20. When I got tired of watching the clock I rolled over. Something felt strange. I realized that you hadn't rolled with me. I turned back again. Why weren’t you moving with me like you usually did? Perhaps your movement had slowed because there wasn't much room for you to move in my belly anymore, maybe you were just ready to be born? When I got out of bed I noticed a show. So I rang the hospital. They said to come in.

After taking Kurtis to nanna’s house, daddy and I were on our way to Gosford Hospital, talking excitedly about having you and wondering what you would look like. When we arrived we were taken to a delivery suite. The monitor was switched on and a doppler was soon sliding over my big round belly. Round and round, round and round. Nothing.

I began to sense something was really wrong now. A doctor came in with ultrasound equipment and he didn’t say a word as he watched the screen, but I could hear him sigh. Then he looked at us and said, “I’m sorry but your baby has died.”

“…Really?” I heard myself say. I looked to the midwife, tears welled in her eyes and she looked away. What did I do? Surely something can be done? You can’t have died!

I felt numb as we were led along corridors, down a lift and into another room for another ultrasound. It was true, the second ultrasound confirmed that your heart had stopped beating, but we didn't know why. We were then taken to a different delivery room to prepare for your birth.

Suddenly I was alone in the room. I sat looking down at my tummy. It now seemed lifeless, I yearned for you to kick again. I rubbed you, thinking I could wake you up, but you were still. Then I realized just how alone I was. You were there but you were gone.

When your dad returned we made a few phone calls. He rang your poppy, and I rang your nanna. “Why?” She kept asking, but I couldn’t tell her why.

I was given an epidural and induction began. Four hours later I could feel you sliding out of my body. The midwife checked to see that I was fully dilated then told me to push with the next contraction. At 7:15 pm you were born. Your daddy cut the cord and I looked at your beautiful face. We named you Amara Jane. You were 8 pounds 1.5 ounces and you measured 51 cm long. You looked just like Kurtis with your chubby cheeks and red hair.

We dressed you, wrapped you up in a “Blanket of Love” and held you. We had photos taken with you and your hand and footprint were made in ink on a card. When we laid you in your bed, you looked like you were sleeping. The midwife kept coming in and out of the room. When a pan slipped from her hands and it crashed to the floor I turned to you thinking it had woken you up, but you lay still. On one of her returns, the midwife brought my placenta back after it had been taken away. “We think this is why your baby died,” she said, holding up the umbilical cord. I looked and saw that there was a knot in the middle of it. How could that have happened? She untied the knot and showed us just how compressed it was, that it had tightened over time.

During the next few hours we had with you in the room, I experienced many mixed emotions. I felt very sad though I also had a feeling of excitement, that I had just had a baby girl!

The time came for us to go home. How I hated having to leave you. My precious darling daughter, we had been together for so long and now we were going to be apart. Daddy and I drove home feeling so empty without you.

When we saw Kurtis we hugged and hugged. I felt his warm, breathing body against mine. I looked into his face; his eyes sparkled; his lips and cheeks were soft and full. I held his hands and they wrapped themselves around mine. He was so much alive! He would have loved to have been your big brother.

At home I wanted to dress you, change you and bath you. When we went out I felt that you needed to be out with us. The whole time my breasts were leaking to feed you and my arms ached to hold you.

I did get to hold you again. We dressed you in your pink silky dress. Daddy held you and I held you for ages. Then we laid you in your coffin. We didn't even have to make you up because you were already so pretty. On the day of your funeral all our family and friends came to see you for the first time. Each of us placed a pink carnation with you. You were beautiful. You had rosy cheeks and you still looked as though you were just sleeping. We sang Amazing Grace. We said goodbye and I kissed your cheek.

Amara, you are a special little girl in heaven. I know that one day we will see you again.

AMARA JANE

A new day has begun

My being is now in Paradise

Alive with angels

Remember my time on earth

Apart from you now for a while

Just waiting to see you again

Always will I be in your heart

Never to be forgotten

Eternally Beautiful.

SUDDEN INFANT DEATH SYNDROME

2011-05-24T20:37:00.001-07:00

Do you have an experience you would like to share? Email Me. Please specify this title page for your story. Or simply add your story as a comment at the bottom of this page.

NEONATAL DEATH

2011-05-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

Do you have an experience you would like to share? Email Me. Please specify this title page for your story. Or add your experience as a comment at the bottom of this page.

Im Memory of C.M. - submitted by K.M.

At 23 weeks, I was admitted to hospital for leaking fluid on Sunday morning 4th July 2004 because I wasn't sure if it was urine or amniotic fluid. I kept getting gushes of fluid. They were going to take a swab and send me home if it was just my bladder but when they went to do the swab there was blood there instead. Cramps and contractions followed soon after.

The hardest thing was labour because I could still feel her kicking and she was so alive and I knew to push her out would be to end her life (we didn't know the sex at this stage). I held her in for hours apologising to her for not being able to stop this from happening and I was so cranky with my body for betraying me and even though they'd given me 3 lots of meds to stop the contractions, it didn't work.

I knew I was 23 weeks 6 days but they had me as 23 weeks 2 days and Hospital policy - they only attempt to save really premmie babies from 24 weeks on. I begged and pleaded with them to save her but they said they could do nothing. I even said to them I'd pay any amount of money for them to send whoever they needed but they said money couldn't even buy the technology needed to save her. Her eyes were still fused and I knew deep in my heart that she would most likely be blind and have so many complications had she lived anyway, but still to have it happen so sudden and without warning was so hard.

Tragically difficult to go through labour knowing that pushing her out would end her life. I held her in refusing to push until the pain was just so bad I couldn't handle it anymore and I could feel her. She was out in one push and still in her whole sack.I lost over a litre of blood and so they whisked me off to theatre after only having spent a few minutes with my precious daughter, I left her in the hands of my husband.

By the time I got back, she had passed. My husband was able to stay with me over night in hospital where we took turns holding our precious girl while we tried desperately to sleep.

Monday night we came home and the hardest part was physically leaving her there. We put her into the arms of the midwife who had been with me the whole time and words can't describe how it felt to leave her there. I wanted to be home with our son, but I wanted to be home with my little girl too.

Before we came home, her big brother got to kiss his little sister numerous times and touch her nose (his favourite past time) and say bye bye baba. He knows there's something wrong but isn't quite sure what. He just knows mummy and daddy have been away a lot (organising things) and crying a lot and things have been out of whack.We had a private viewing before the funeral service, prior to her being buried. We wanted to be able to go back and sit with her.

In Memory of Molly - submitted by Jessica Cantin

Four months ago the last place I thought I would be today is sitting in a classroom. I have not attended school since early 2006, which is when I dropped out of my freshman year of college. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I “grew up,” so I figured wasting tens of thousands of dollars on a degree from Mass College of Art would be a waste.

My boyfriend, now fiancé, Matt, and I found out I was pregnant with our son, Ezra, a few months later. He was born in October of 2006 and since then our lives have become chaos between both of us working full time and raising him.

In early 2009 we decided to expand our family and have another baby. After one month of trying I became pregnant, a few months later we found out that it was a girl! We were so excited, we wanted a girl so badly. We were counting down the days until we could meet her which was to be around February 7, 2010. That day came sooner than anyone had anticipated.

On October 30, 2009 as I was getting ready for my monthly check-up and I noticed a drip on my leg. I looked down and there was a puddle on the floor. My heart started beating a mile a minute, I thought my water had broken. I was only 25 weeks pregnant and I wasn’t due for over three more months. I thought I was going to lose the baby. I had Matt drive me to the doctor’s office, still an hour before my appointment, and was crying as I asked the receptionist if I could see the doctor early. When the doctor came into the exam room she confirmed that my water had broken. She informed me that there was an ambulance on its way to the office and that I would be taken to Beverly Hospital.

Ezra was crying and screaming for me as he watched his mother being loaded onto a stretcher and taken away from him. Matt followed me to the hospital, where his mother met up with him to take Ezra so he could stay with me. My mother left work and met us at the hospital.

Doctors and nurses crowded around, sticking me with needles for blood work and inserting an IV line. I am the most needle-phobic person I know, so this was not a fun thing to add to the anxiety I was already dealing with. I was informed that another ambulance was on its way to the hospital to move me to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Centre in Boston because Beverly Hospital isn’t capable of handling a situation like mine.

It took about ten minutes to get to Boston, and about a minute later I was in labour and delivery on the tenth floor. Once there, I was stuck with about twenty needles for even more blood work and tests. Then I started bleeding. The doctors were scared because that could be a sign that I had an abruption, which is when the placenta tears away from the wall of the uterus. If that were the case, the baby would be in danger-- there would be no way for her to get oxygen from me, which meant I could need an emergency c-section at any minute. Or, I could lose too much blood and need a blood transfusion. So they insisted on inserting a second IV-- just in case.

I had a sonogram done, and they measured the baby and said she would weigh approximately one pound and fourteen ounces if I had her that day. They hooked me up to a monitor that constantly watched her heart rate. One of my IV lines was hooked up to magnesium, which calms the uterus and stops contractions in order to prevent labour, it also makes you feel horribly groggy and sick. The other was hooked up to three different kinds of antibiotics to prevent an infection from forming. They gave me an injection of hormones to make her lungs develop faster, and a shot of Rhogam because I have a negative blood type. I was stuck using a bedpan which was a new and horrible experience. A nurse from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) came up to talk to me about what it would be like taking care of a baby this young. They told me that she would have a sixty percent survival rate. I was informed that they were going to try to keep me pregnant as long as possible, and that some women going through this even make it to 34 weeks. But 34 weeks is rare, and every day she has in utero to further develop is a huge milestone. The big thing is preventing infection. With the membranes being ruptured bacteria could get up to where the baby is.

After a long night my bleeding and contractions slowed down enough that they decided to move me down to the sixth floor. The sixth floor is for high-risk pregnant women on hospital bed rest. It’s a much more comfortable place to just sit and wait as opposed to labour and delivery which was constantly buzzing with people. It was the beginning of the long, stressful wait. The goal was to reach at least twenty-eight weeks gestation, at twenty-eight weeks the survival rate for premature babies goes up to ninety percent.

My parents brought Ezra in so I could see him. It was his third birthday and we had to cancel his party. Then about twenty people came to visit me. We discussed what was going to happen with Ezra while I was hospitalized and unable to take care of him. Between my parents and Matt’s parents they would watch him while Matt worked. I felt so helpless; when everybody left all I could do was sit there and wait for something to happen.

For the next few days everything went well, by that I mean nothing happened. I even got bathroom privileges back! (I was allowed to get out of bed just to go to the bathroom). Around day three I started bleeding again. I was rushed back up to labour and delivery and put back on constant monitoring. After about twenty-eight hours of being monitored, stuck back on the bedpan and not allowed to eat the doctor on duty decided that the bleeding had slowed and that the baby’s heart rate looked good so they could send me back downstairs.

Every couple of days it would happen again. I would get sent back upstairs, the doctors and nurses would be sure that I would need a caesarean section any minute, but the baby would remain stable and I was sent back downstairs again. The doctors would make jokes about how I had broken the record for having taken the most elevator rides. One doctor told me that she hoped I would go into labour on my own. That way my body would be making the decision instead of her having to decide whether to deliver the baby or to wait until she showed signs of distress and not have enough time to deliver her. It’s a fine line to walk with a baby that young and being the one to have to make that decision must be very straining.

Every day someone would come in and draw blood about five times and every couple of days I had to get my IVs changed. It seemed like every time they thought I would be fine only having one IV I would have another bleeding episode and they would put the second back in. For someone who hates needles so much I was turned into quite the human pincushion. I kept telling myself that it would be worth it in the end when I had a healthy baby.

I spent a lot of time alone because my family was busy working and taking care of my son for me. During this time the only social interaction I had was with my nurses, and they were all very accommodating. They talked me through the mess of emotions that were going through my head. It was so hard for me to just lay there while everyone else took care of my responsibilities for me. I felt so useless. My nurses helped me get through that by helping me realize that I was making huge sacrifices for my daughter, and that she needed me more than my son did at that time. I felt better about everything with their help.

On November fourteenth, fifteen days after being admitted into the hospital and one day shy of the twenty-eight week goal, I woke up feeling a bit crampy. When my nurse came in to do my morning monitoring and we noticed that I was having contractions every five minutes. They were getting stronger and within an hour I couldn’t even talk through them. I called my mother and Matt and told them to come to the hospital.

The labour went so fast that I couldn’t have gotten an epidural had I wanted to. My mother got to the hospital first, and Matt had just enough time to get there before it was time to push. The nurse called the NICU team and within a minute there were at least twenty new people in the room.

She came out in two easy pushes. Molly Elizabeth was born at 3:17PM on November 14, 2009 weighing two pounds, nine ounces. I was laying in the delivery bed trying to see her, but Matt was standing in my way so I asked him to move. Everybody in the room said that when I spoke she turned her head and opened her eyes looking for me. She had to be intubated because she did not start breathing on her own right away. They told me that this was normal for a baby this young, then showed her to me before bringing her up to the NICU.

After taking some time to recuperate I went up to the NICU to see her. She was so tiny and beautiful! After taking some time to eat and rest Matt brought me back up to see her. I held her tiny hand and watched her sleep. Her nurse told us that she was breathing mostly on her own and that if she kept doing so well they would take her breathing tube out by the morning. She also answered whatever questions I could think of at the time. I started getting sore after a while so we went back down to my room.

The next morning when we went back up to see her she was off of the ventilator and on CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) instead. It was a good thing because it meant she was breathing on her own, the CPAP just provides a constant flow of air to prevent her lungs from collapsing in case she forgets to keep breathing. It was huge on her and we could hardly see her face behind it, but it meant she was progressing. The next day I was to be discharged, finally free after spending so long in the hospital! Just being allowed to get up and walk was weird, my legs were weak and wobbly. It turns out that there was still some placenta left in my uterus and instead of being discharged I had to go into surgery to have it removed. They kept me in the hospital for two more days after the surgery. Finally I was released after being there for three weeks. I went to my parents house to surprise Ezra, who had started saying “Mommy’s broken. Stuck in the hotsibal”. When he realized I was back he couldn’t stop smiling and hugging me.

Over the next week and a half I divided my time between Ezra and visiting Molly in the hospital. I could just stare at her and hold her little hand for hours. Every day when I went to visit she was progressing more. I went in a few days after I was discharged and I had to make sure I was at the right incubator bed the CPAP was off; she wasn’t getting any help breathing! Her nurse told me that she was doing so well for her age, they couldn’t believe it. She was progressing really well with her feedings, and as soon as she was up to full feeds they could to transfer her to Beverly, which they told me could be in the next week or so. She told me that Molly was acting a lot older than other babies her age usually act. They also told me that I could start holding her during feeding time. She was so small sitting on my chest. She relaxed and fell right asleep. It felt so nice to finally be able to hold her.

Matt and I went to visit her one night. I was so excited that he was finally going to get to hold her for the first time. When we got there Molly’s nurse told us that she just started to become a little cranky and that maybe he shouldn’t hold her until she felt better. She was pulling her legs up to her stomach and wincing like she had a stomach ache. Her nurse went to change her diaper and found that there was some blood in her stool. She explained that this could be a sign of something called necrotizing enterocolitis (NEC), which happens when intestinal tissue dies. She told us that it is common in premature babies, but it is also serious. The x-ray team came up and did some x-rays. They told us that her bowel was still intact which meant she wouldn’t need surgery, but that they would keep doing x-rays to watch it.

She started vomiting, and her temperature ad oxygen levels were dropping. They had to intubate again because she was in pain and having a hard time breathing on her own. Her iron levels also dropped and they had to give her a blood transfusion. There were about ten doctors and nurses crowded around along with two surgeons from Children’s Hospital, inserting IV’s, doing tests and keeping a close eye on her progress. She wasn’t taking well to the ventilator so one nurse had to stand there with a hand pump bag and manually breathe for her. This all happened over a period of about two hours.

About an hour later the x-ray showed that her bowel had perforated and that she would need to go across the street to Children’s Hospital for surgery. We walked over and sat in the surgery waiting room and waited for a couple of hours. It was a long, torturous wait. My mom and Matt’s parents had come into Boston to wait with us. Finally one of the surgeons came in to talk to us and told us that Molly had handled the surgery well, especially for her young age. He explained what they had done, which included placing a colostomy bag to give her bowels a chance to rest and heal. He told us that we could go in and see her in a little bit, they were just trying to stabilize her.

We were moved to a family waiting room over by the NICU. After another hour or so in that room a nurse came in and told us that it would be a little longer, they were having a hard time keeping her stabilized. Finally she came back and said that we could go see her, but she was still not completely stabilized. It was so hard to look at her. They were giving her a lot of fluids so she looked swollen, she was receiving more blood, had IV’s in each arm and leg, and was on what they call a hi-fi ventilator, which causes her to lay there motionless while the ventilator basically makes her entire body vibrate. We were told that it is supposed to help bring her oxygen levels up by creating a panting effect.

The nurses told us to go get some rest. They explained where to go to get a room in the parent sleeping area and our families went home. Trying to get sleep was extremely difficult with everything that was happening, I just wanted to be with her and know that she was going to be alright.

Around 4:30AM, just as I was finally falling asleep, my phone rang. Matt answered it because I was still half asleep. I kept trying to ask him what was going on and I couldn’t figure out what the conversation was about because he was just saying “mhmm... okay... yes... okay...” Finally when he got off the phone he told me that we had to go back to the NICU. “That was one of her nurses. They still can’t stabilize her and they don’t think she’s going to make it.” I just broke down and kept telling myself that she would be alright, a miracle would come our way and fix everything. We called our parents and told them to come back.

I became robotic and just agreed to everything we were told, not actually believing it to be true. I asked to have a minister come baptize her. I asked that if they knew for a fact that she was going to go could I hold her when the time came. They told me that in order to hold her they would have to take her off of the hi-fi ventilator and put her on the regular one, which would probably cause her to die faster. I told them that I’d rather have five minutes holding her than twenty minutes watching her die alone on a bed.

Once our families arrived at the hospital again Molly was baptized. Shortly after they switched her over to the regular ventilator so we could hold her. I let Matt hold her first because he never got to. The first time he was able to hold his daughter was as she was dying in his arms. After a few minutes we switched and I held her. She was laying on my chest. It seemed like she was staying alive a lot longer than they had told us she would. I kept looking at the machines; her heart rate had dropped to a normal level and her oxygen levels raised to where they should be and she just stayed there.

We fell asleep together for a few hours. When I woke up everyone was still sitting around and she was still stable. I suddenly became hopeful again that she would be just fine. I felt bad for having hogged her after thinking she was dying any minute now, so I let Matt hold her again. As soon as she was removed from my chest her heart rate and oxygen levels started dropping again and the nurse came over and told us that we only had a few minutes left. After Matt held her for a minute or so he gave her back to me and this time her heart rate and oxygen continued to decline. The nurse said that the machine wasn’t detecting a heartbeat, so she listened with the stethoscope and said that there was none. They removed the breathing tube while she was still in my arms and told me not to be alarmed. When people die they take a few last gasping breaths; she did just as they said she would. And that’s how my daughter died in my arms on November 26th, Thanksgiving Day, 2009.

Sitting there crying over her for the next couple of hours I still didn’t believe that it really happened. Part of me knew what had just happened, but most of me just didn’t believe it. A little while later her nurses cleaned her up, removed her IV lines, dressed her and wrapped her up in a blanket. I held her again and we passed her around so our parents could hold her and cry as well. We signed papers that were brought to us and they gave us packets of information for infant loss support groups and the like. Her nurses kept asking if there was anything that they could do for us, but there was nothing. One of her nurses from Beth Israel came over to hug and cry with me.

Finally I just couldn’t be there anymore and we went home. My parents let Matt and I come home and try to sleep for a bit while Ezra was at their house where my sister had been watching him. Later we went to their house for the worst Thanksgiving dinner ever. The food was good, but having a family sit around the table crying isn’t the most enjoyable thing ever.

A few days later Molly’s funeral was held. So many people showed up, it was unreal. At this point I was still numb to the whole thing, it hadn’t hit me that it had actually happened. The only time I even broke down and started crying was when two of Molly’s nurses came through the line. I couldn’t believe that they had come all this way to show us their support. The employees of the funeral home said they counted about one hundred and fifty people. Our house was filled with cards and flowers. I couldn’t believe that so many people wanted to show their support for a baby they had never met.

It took about a month for everything to hit me and for me to realize that it had actually happened. I would be doing fine until some miniscule thing would remind me of her and set me off. Today, as I sit here and write this (February 7, 2010), was my due date in my pregnancy. Right around now is also the time when she should have been released from the hospital and coming home. Writing about this experience is still very fresh and difficult for me.

While I was in the hospital I started thinking that maybe I would like to be a nurse. The way that my nurses were there for me made me think that I would like to be that person to other people. After Molly died I decided that I definitely did want to become a nurse. I began looking into school options. I figured I would apply and start school in the fall until I got a course book for North Shore in the mail and realized that it wasn’t too late to sign up for classes for the winter/spring 2010 semester. So here I am, sitting in a classroom, knowing what my career goals are, when just four months ago it was the last place I thought I would be. Life works in mysterious ways; sometimes you have to take something horrible and make good things come of it.

INFERTILITY

2011-05-24T20:23:00.000-07:00

Written by Robyn Spring

Growing up all I wanted to be, was a mum. I wasn’t interested in a career. I just wanted to get married and have children.

In my late teens I was diagnosed with Polysistic Ovarian Syndrome and was then aware of the effects of Polysistic Ovarian Syndrome and the greater chance of infertility.

I met my husband whom I married in 1996 at the age of 21, with the knowledge we may never have children, so he was aware from the beginning. He accepted that and never put pressure on me. For which I am very grateful.

We had been married for a few years and I really loved my job, but my desire of having a family and not knowing if I could, weighed on my shoulders. I had to decide what was more important – job or family, to me it was family.

We started trying and after months with no news, we began searching for remedies, I saw doctor after doctor, trying hormone creams, etc, I finally saw a lovely lady doctor who was fabulous. She ran tests and didn’t delay in sending us on to a specialist. I finally felt we were on the right road! Someone finally wanting to help us, I mean, really help us! We were finally being taken more seriously!

It was a hard time, especially as a woman. I went through a stage where I struggled with womanhood, I felt I lacked being a woman because I couldn’t conceive children. I tried to be more womanly outwardly to compensate.

We didn’t tell anyone we were trying we just kept telling everyone we weren’t ready, when really my heart was aching. It was just easier to fob it off, than to have all the questions and explanations.

I so longed for a baby and the thought that it might not happen was my greatest fear. I envied other pregnant women, wishing that it was me.

We saw the specialist, who ran a lot more tests. It seemed like years, going through the process, having tests and waiting for the results, going back to the specialist and having more tests and so on.

The end result was that I wasn’t ovulating. Our next step was a fertility drug called “Clomid”, this was going to help my body to ovulate. First we had to do more tests, because I had to have a particular dosage and take it on particular days of my cycle for it to work. For a couple of months it was a trial and error scenario, blood tests after blood tests, adjusting days and amounts. Still with no conception. The specialist had booked me in to have a Laparoscopy to see what else was going on. The next stage being IVF.

Finally, on my final month of Clomid, and prior to my Laporoscopy appointment, I conceived! When the pregnancy was confirmed, I balled! I was so happy! Finally, finally, it had happened!

March, 2001 our baby was born, 3 weeks early and weighed in at 6p 13oz.

Share your story

If you would like to share your Infertility journey, whether you have been successful or still on your journey, please email me. Or simply share your experience as a comment a the bottom of this page.

ABORTION

2011-05-24T20:20:00.000-07:00

I invite and welcome to my website, those of you who have experienced the loss of a baby through abortion. Please feel free to add your experience as a comment at the bottom of this page.

Let me share my heart on this topic…….

I hear stories from many women who have had an abortion, months, even years later, do live to regret their decision and just like us, wonder what happened to their baby. Their baby too, is in Heaven, with ours.

I know, personally, a few women who have had an abortion. I love them all dearly.

My heart goes out to women who have been placed in this position of having to make or have felt forced to make that decision, for whatever reason, whether medically, financially, emotionally, etc. I can only imagine how heart wrenching it would be to make that decision and the guilt of that to be carried with you for the rest of your life.

I do not condone abortion, but I also do not choose to judge you for your decision. Regardless of the circumstance, all these little ones taken from us are so precious!

Having not experienced abortion myself, I can only imagine, from my experience, how you would feel.

My intention is not to offend anyone, as I too, was not given the choice to keep my baby.

We all make decisions depending on the circumstances at the time and sometimes there seems to be no other answer than the decision we make, and often we regret the outcome in years to come.

Not always is there another life in the balance.

For the parents of this baby, particularly the mother, I can only imagine the heartache and guilt of your decision.

Often these women who then try to conceive at a later date, feel they are somehow being punished for their actions when they too, experience miscarriage.

Many women are suffering in silence even today, too ashamed to tell their story. If you would like to share your story, or comment on this topic, email me. Please indicate whether you would like me to share it on my website or not.

MISCARRIAGE

2011-05-24T20:17:00.000-07:00

Do you have an experience you would like to share? Please email me and specify this title page for your story. Or you can also submit your experience as a comment at the bottom of this page.

Here are some Visitor Stories already received...........

Hi Robyn,

I have been on a very similar journey to you. I also was diagnosed with PCOS and had lots of trouble conceiving. Was placed on clomid to make me ovulate.

Well I conceived on the first month of taking clomid. Was extremely sick with morning sickness and at 12 weeks was sent off for an ultrasound. Being my first baby I didn’t know what to look for. Saw things and kept asking "is that my baby?" with getting no response. She excused herself and went to get a doctor. He came and looked and sat down to tell us how sorry he was but that our baby had died several weeks earlier but my body was not expelling the baby and I would need a D & C. I was devastated! They let my husband and I grieve in an office till I went back to the ward. They were amazing.

The name of 'missed abortion' was given. I hated that. I would never abort and this was a death so it was not what I was expecting. Telling people was hard.

The following year I conceived again and again had a 'missed abortion' discovered earlier now due to my history.

The third year of our marriage I conceived again and could not believe when it happened again! Feeling like a total failure was an understatement. I had an extremely supportive family and friends which God put in my life. But it was hard going.

In 1993 I conceived again. Scared we watched every sign like hawks. Like all the other pregnancies I was extremely sick. 6 week ultrasound was good!

12 week ultrasound was great. 20 week ultrasound was amazing ( after being admitted for bleeding and early labour!) 30 week ultrasound was mindblowing and 35 week ultrasound showed us my little girl born 2 weeks later. God was good.

In 1996 through clomid I had a son. Not without its problems but he arrived (Pre eclampsia).

My family was complete!

THEN....... When my son was 1 I was put on an experimental drug to treat PCOS. It helped immensely. They told me that one of the side effects was increased fertility. Having never had to worry about that we went on with life. In 2001 my second son was born after being conceived naturally. Now my family was complete.

Every Christmas we put 3 extra family decorations on our tree to remember our precious babies. They are part of our family even though they are in heaven with God. They now would be 16, 15 & 14. Wow.

I am going to buy myself a box. I know it was a long time ago but it still seems like yesterday. My love for them has not passed like the years and I look forward to seeing them when the time comes.

Visitor - Ann

TRIBUTES & MEMORIALS

2011-05-24T20:05:00.000-07:00

Send us your own special tribute to your Little One Above.

Robyn shares her heartfelt tribute in her gift boxes by including pieces she has written.

You are invited to share your own tribute to your "little one above". Email Robyn with a poem, story or verse (please credit the source if it is not an original work) and attach any photos you wish to be added. Images must be under 100kb in sizes.

You may also add a tribute by simply making a comment at the bottom of the page. All comments are reviewed and published later so they don't appear straight away.

Tributes to your Little Ones Above

Please read the tributes that have been submitted by our website visitors.

Love Letter to my little one

Friday, December 22, 2006

Dear Little One,

Sometimes I feel so sorry that I didn’t have the chance to know you, to even feel you move inside me. I didn’t even know you were there until it was much too late.

It’s strange how things work out here on earth, your sisters and brother fought so hard to finally arrive here safely, I often wonder why it was not so with you.

I want you to know that even though I don’t know your name and I never saw your lovely face, I still love you with all of my heart and being. Even though you didn’t make it here to us I know you are safe in Heaven. That brings me so much comfort and joy, to know I will see you again some day.

Until that day comes, I know, with all that I am, that you are in the very best place of all, surrounded by all our loved ones who have already passed. I think of you just about every day, especially in the quiet moments.

You will always be a part of me,

Love, your Mummy.

(Anonymous Visitor)

A Tribute to Remi Elaine Goodall

A tribute to my precious daughter,

Remi Elaine Goodall 2/2/06-5/6/06

Love you forever,

your mama

Jessie

GUESTBOOK

2011-05-24T19:48:00.001-07:00

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TESTIMONIALS

2011-05-24T19:45:00.001-07:00

Many people have a story to tell of how "Whispers of the Heart" has touched their lives. You are invited to read some of these heart-felt testimonials.

If you would like to add your own Testimonial, please email Robyn or simply post it as a comment at the bottom of this page. Your testimony will be reveiwed and published shortly.

A Beautiful Reminder
Waiting & wanting... this is something common to any couple who have yearned for a child and found it difficult to conceive. We tried to conceive for over a year with each of our children. When my second child was only 6 months old I fell pregnant by accident, I was unaware of the pregnancy until I miscarried at around 6-7 weeks. The hardest thing was that no-one wanted to talk about it and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I needed to talk... I never really got the chance to process my loss.

Recently, I received a "Whispers of the Heart" gift box, it has helped me to process it all and deal with the remnants of pain I still felt.

Thank you for helping me...
Kylie.

In Memory of our Loss
I had a missed abortion at 7 weeks 6 days but unfortunately didn’t find out until I was 9 weeks 6 days and I was absolutely devastated.

As I had no baby to hold, I was wondering what I could do to remember my angel baby, when I came across whispers of the heart boxes.

This box gave me great comfort in knowing that even though I didn’t have a baby to show for my loss I had something that would remind me of the baby I did lose.

The poems in the box are great and very comforting.

Thank you for creating something special in memory of our loss.

God Bless
Kristina.

My Gift
Dear Robyn,Thank you so much for your boxes. We received one from Dubbo Hospital as we prepared to deliver our tiny babe who had passed away. It has been such an encouragement to our whole family. We have 6 children aged from 17 to 2 years, so have had not only our own loss to deal with, but also theirs.

Your box helped not only me, but the older children too. We found out our baby had died when we went for our checkup at 17 weeks. I know there is no easy time to lose a babe, but there is a no man's land between 12 weeks and 20 weeks when we would have had to register our precious baby boy. It leaves one feeling very lost and alone, but our homegroup is rallying around us and planning a memorial service. They are such a blessing from God too!

During the days before our baby's birth, I pondered whether we should give him/her a name. Only one name jumped out at me, but I wasn't sure. Eventually we decided we wouldn't. The midwife wasn't totally sure if the baby was a boy or girl at the time. At home, I read the poem in your box about the Father having given these precious babies a name. Then our pastor came out and when he was praying for us he prayed virtually word for word everything the name book had said about the name that ha jumped out at me! That decided me - our Heavenly Father had given our babe a name and he wanted us to acknowledge it - it also turns out it is a boy's name! So, partly in thanks to you, our baby boy was named Ethni - Hebrew for 'My gift'.

Your poem posted on the website, called "For Only a Short Time" also touched my heart. Part of my testimony has been all the good things that have come from Ethni's death, despite the sadness. We were able to take shelter in the Lord, and it has strengthened our family relationships. It also brought out a strength in my husband that has been dormant until now.

Thanks for having somewhere to share,

Meredith.