From the moment those two blue lines appeared announcing the coming of our second daughter I was ecstatic!
Me and my husband dove into preparations with excitement, but also fear because we had almost lost our first child on several occasions. This time, I had a textbook healthy pregnancy — everything went smoothly. I remember my doctor congratulating me on making it to the 3rd trimester and remember him using the words “safe zone”. Safe zone, or so we thought.
On December 10th, 2014, I began to feel pain in my back that was very intense, but I wrote it off as Braxton Hicks — after all, I was 28 weeks along. The next morning, December 11th, I woke up to shooting pains in my back. I could barely walk and by 3 pm, I decided I needed to go to the hospital.
By the time I got there, I was crying in pain and I was bleeding profusely. They took me to a room and immediately checked me — I was dilated to a 10! The nurse quickly got a doppler and then came the longest most agonizing moments of my life — no heartbeat — the room was just so silent. Even the nurse said no words, she just cried and searched. The ultrasound machine came in and I saw my baby on the screen, so still, so quiet, gone.
I screamed and cried. I begged them to check again even though I knew my baby girl was gone.
My husband who works oil field was four hours away when the doctor called him, I could hear him break down and bawl from the other end of the phone. Before I knew it, I was in a delivery room giving birth — with no pain medication to a baby I thought was healthy only an hour ago.
At 4:30 pm my little angel was born asleep. Perpetua Grace was the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen.
I had planned this moment of meeting her for the past 7 months. I couldn’t understand how something so happy could be so heartbreaking.
My husband arrived an hour later and never left her side for the next 24 hours that we had her. Her funeral was on the 14th and I couldn’t believe how many people came and blessed us. So many wanted to meet my baby girl.
At the funeral, we released balloons into the air for Perpetua and we gave special pink balloons to be released by mommies who had lost there own babies. 16 women at my angels funeral let go of balloons — some had lost 2, 3 even 4. The mommies came to me after the ceremony and through tears of joy, told me I had given them closure for there babies — some as much as 25 years later.
And, as I stood next to my daughter’s tiny grave, I realized that maybe my angels whole job was to come to us to give these other mommies comfort. My angel, Perpetua Grace, born to change the hearts of many.
Photo credit: adapted from Federico Feroldi Foto | Flickr