My Baby

Alan and I were elated to find out we were pregnant with our third child. I was nearing the end of my first trimester and was due for my first scan, to determine gestational age. This pregnancy was very different from my first two pregnancies with my girls. My food tastes were different. While my skin had cleared up tremendously with my girls, I looked as if I was thirteen and fighting acne all over again. I had no nauseau. This must be a boy, we thought.

On September 3rd, I started to have some spotting, but no pain. Everything I read said this was most likely normal, so I just took it easy that day.

I woke up around 1am on September 4, 2008. I was in alot of pain. I went to the bathroom. The pain was so bad I became severly nauseus and started to cry. I started bleeding, alot. Alan woke up and heard me. He helped me to the bed. The pains were so bad I couldn't move and I could barely speak. It was then that I knew these were labor pains. I started crying out for my baby. I was afraid for myself, and I cried out for my little girls. I was afraid I was going to lose my baby and that my babies might lose me. Alan was my rock. He calmed me down. We called Uncle to take me to the emergency room. They took me to the maternity ward and admitted me within half an hour.

Uncle was with me for the first hour. Alan had to stay back at home with the girls. They told me to sleep and that I would have a scan first thing in the morning. It was hard that Alan wasn't there. But, it made me focus on praying. I prayed alot. I prepared myself for the worst. Or so I thought.

They woke me up around 7am to take me to have the scan done. Alan was still with the girls. The ultrasound technician kept moving around my belly, still small, but slightly swollen from pregnancy. He seemed to me as if he was looking but could not find anything. My heart raced. After what seemed forever, he looked at me and announced, 'Your baby has aborted.' I instantly burst out in tears, crying uncontrollably. I could not believe what I heard. I asked him, 'Was I pregnant?' Maybe I was never even pregnant, maybe that is why he did not see my baby. 'Yes, you were.' There it was. It was confirmed. My baby had died. I lay there and cried for about ten minutes. Once I had somewhat collected myself, they took me back to my room.

About a half an hour later, Alan came to the hospital. As soon as I saw him, and he looked at me, I burst into tears again. I didn't have to say a word, he knew. Tears filled his eyes. We sat and cried together for a little while. They came in to tell me I would have a D & C around 11:30am.

Around 10:30am, I had to use the bathroom. My room did not have a bathroom, so I went down the hall to use the one there. I noticed the bleeding had become very thick. When I looked at the toilet paper, I froze. I stood in disbelief and started shaking. I was holding my baby. I just had my baby in the bathroom, I thought. My mind raced. I looked at him, tears streaming down my face. He was perfectly formed. He had two little eyes, two arms, two legs, two feet and two hands. His hands. They each had ten, perfect, tiny little fingers. So tiny, but they were there. I couldn't stop shaking and I was afraid I was going to drop him. So, I gently set him down, and opened the bathroom door. I yelled down the hall, frantically, that I had the baby. Everyone looked shocked, this was totally unexpected.

I started to crumble to the ground, as my legs gave way. Alan and one of the nurses had to help me to the room. I felt like I was going to pass out and everything was a blur at this point. I remember just crying, again, uncontrollably and saying over and over, 'My baby. He had fingers. My baby.'

I still had the D & C that day. And I went home that day. Without my baby. The next week was hard to trudge through. I felt guilty for seeming so aloof to the two beautiful little girls right in front of me. But, I could not escape the feeling that I had abandoned my baby. I wasn't able to bring him home. I just left him there. I felt so empty, physically and emotionally.

For the next week, I could not get to sleep at night. Every time I closed my eyes, I could not escape the vision of my baby, with ten perfect little fingers. I cried in bed every night that first week.

We decided to name him. We are here, in India, away from home. This was quite a tragedy to face from half way around the world. But, through our prayers, we knew we wanted our baby's short life to glorify God. We named him Tobiah, which is a Hebrew word that means "God is good." Edward, his middle name, is the name of my husband's grandfather, who was his spiritual mentor and passed away when Alan was young.

Since the loss of our baby, we have been able to reach out to others who have or are currently experiencing similar loss. We have been trying to advocate more for babies who might be victims of abortion. Our experience has only heightened our passion for human life, especially for innocent babies and children who are subject to the whims of irresponsible and unfeeling people. My baby was a person, and it angers me to think that people out there would argue otherwise. I held him. I saw his perfectly formed body. I held a baby, not a fetus. I pray that God would use me and others to help people see the importance of this issue.

God has been my strength. He has taught me to solely rely on Him. I do not take my girls for granted. I see them as fragile and precious and a miracle. I can only be thankful that Tobiah will never experience sin, temptation, the evil in this world or what it is to be sick and suffer. For that I am thankful. He went straight to be with Jesus, what a blessing. I mourn for those of us who are left behind, who must wait for the glory he already beholds. I wait impatiently to meet him some day. We love you Tobiah, you are sorely missed.