If I’m honest, I don’t know where to start. Should I start at the end and then go back to the beginning and fill you in on all of the details leading up to that point or just start at the beginning? I guess the beginning is always a good place to start.
In October, my husband and I found out that we were expecting. We were excited at the prospect of welcoming a new member to our family and nervous at the thought of becoming first-time parents (after all, kids don’t come with a manual – how little did I know that what we would experience would be so different and also unguided). Things went well for the first little while and I experienced morning sickness.
We had our first ultrasound done in January. They were great and it was really cool to see our kiddo on the monitor. Unfortunately, we received a call later saying that there were markers and we would be sent to a genetics specialist. After many appointments and an amniocentesis, we found out that our (daughter – whose gender we had wanted to keep a secret until we weren’t able to) had Turner Syndrome. The good: girls with Turner Syndrome tend to be okay provided they make it to term. The bad: between 90% and 99% of all girls with Turner Syndrome don’t make it that far. So we waited. And hoped. And waited. And hoped. And our daughter (Serenity) held on for longer than most do. We are so grateful for the time that we did have with her here on this earth. She made it a whole 20 weeks and into March before she gave me a final goodbye kick in the stomach and I *knew* that something was wrong.
We called the midwife and she made time for us right away. My husband, the amazing man he is, rushed straight from work to meet me at the clinic. The midwife couldn’t find her heartbeat. We were sent for an ultrasound. They couldn’t find her heartbeat either. She had passed away.
We decided that they could induce me, so when the hospital was ready for me, we went to the hospital – that experience STILL seems surreal for a number of reasons, but maybe I’ll share more on that later. On March 7th, we said hello and goodbye to our beautiful daughter for the first and last time. Stillborn, but still born. It has been rough since then and there were a lot of really dark days for both of us. We miss Serenity dearly and can’t wait to meet her on the other side of this life.
Though I wish that no one ever had to experience this, I am grateful that I can use my experience to help others who may be going through something similar. Please know that you are not alone, and if you need someone to hear your story, please share it with me. I would love to hear the story of your invisible child(ren). If you’re in the midst of it, you will get through it. I know it seems like there isn’t a point to even getting up tomorrow, but someday, you will find strength from somewhere beyond yourself. And someday, I hope, you will let your light shine again. Until then, be kind to yourself, love yourself, and let others love you. We are here to care for one another and I trust that you will find those who will care for you.
Thank you for reading the story of our lives for the last year. Sending lots of love to those who can relate. For those who haven’t experienced anything like this, thank you for your understanding and willingness to learn to help others who have.
photo credit: beccaplusmolly via photopin cc This photo is not of Serenity (we don’t have any photos of her, but that’s a story for another time…)
photo credit: Ogre Lawless via photopin cc