A Comrade Fallen, Never ForgottenWhen Carolyn awoke on the morning of July 17, 2006, it was like every other morning that summer. She happily went about her morning routine and prepared for work at a downtown daycare. She was 20 weeks and 2 days pregnant. “We were so excited! We met with a fertility consultant. She came in and taught us natural ways to get pregnant, such as tracking ovulation. Oh my god, we were so happy when we found out!”
The pregnancy, her first, had been a belated birthday gift; Carolyn and her husband, Steve, discovered the exciting news just a day past Carolyn’s birthday in March. And the cherry on top? It had been a perfectly uneventful pregnancy; all routine exams had gone accordingly and Carolyn didn’t have any of the more unpleasant signs of pregnancy, including morning sickness. That morning, Carolyn had her 20 week check-up with her OBGYN. She told him that she had been experiencing some unusual pressure and had a noticeable increase of discharge. Without examining her further, or asking any questions, he dismissed her concerns with, “It’s just an advancing pregnancy”. Feeling somewhat reassured, she left and went to work. At 4pm, off work, and heading home on public transit, Carolyn’s pressure worsened and cramping began. “I was having really bad cramps and I called my mother from my cell. She claimed I was having Braxton Hicks contractions. The woman sitting across from me was listening to me speak. When I got off the phone she told me she was 27 weeks pregnant and 20 weeks was too early to have Braxton Hicks”. Now feeling concerned, and in pain, Carolyn contacted her husband to meet her at the train stop. “The pain was so bad. I told him I felt this pressure to go to the bathroom. So we stopped at an A &W nearby and ran inside to use the bathroom. After performing a self-examination, I could feel something bulging. I knew something was wrong, so Steve called 911 and I sat on the curb, outside, waiting for the ambulance.” Things worsened when the ambulance arrived. “In the ambulance I was screaming so loud from the contractions. The stone-faced paramedic put in an IV and really didn't say much. She just asked how far along I was. I was taken to the Rockyview and to the maternity ward. There were 2 nurses, and one said to the other, “Oh, she is 4 cm.” I had no idea what that meant. I never knew what was coming.” They placed her into labour room one. Carolyn was later told that it’s the nicest of the rooms and they try to put all the women who will be suspected of losing their babies, in there. The room spun as Carolyn continued to deal with the cramping and pain with Steve by her side. “I don’t remember a lot. It was a blur of pain and emotion and confusion. I remember the nurse saying something about not being able to get a cerclage when 4cm dilated. This still wasn’t making any sense to me. And then the doctor appeared, and his words are the ones I will never, ever forget. He told me, without emotion, “You’re at the end of the road.” The hospital sent in a Chaplain to the room. Carolyn, although not a practicing Catholic, listened to the Chaplain explain that because he ‘didn’t know where he’d be when Savannah was born’, he anointed Carolyn’s mother to baptize the child, causing even more emotional pain and confusion. Feeling like she was not in her right mind, Carolyn began agreeing with everything suggested to her, to make it all pass as quickly as possible. Carolyn labored for over 12 hours. Savannah Brooke was born on July 18, 2006, weighing only a precious 9oz. She lived for approximately 10 seconds, outside the womb. The medical staff had told Carolyn and Steve that because of the gestational age, they would not attempt to resuscitate or transfer her to the NICU. They would do nothing. “It’s hard to describe the sounds she made. She didn’t cry. I thought she was gasping for air. I just looked at her as they transferred her to the heated infant bed. I wish so badly now, that I had held her as she left this world. I don’t know why I didn’t. I don’t know why I did or said most of what I did that morning.” Carolyn was so distraught, when the staff gave her nitrous oxide for the pain, Carolyn attempted to turn up the gas to full strength in a misguided effort to go with Savannah. “I had always thought of and been worried about an early miscarriage. Never, did I imagine, that anything would happy once I passed that 12 week mark. I thought I was safe. And when she left me, I really attempted to go with her that day.” Savannah’s premature birth was attributed to an incompetent cervix. As Carolyn had had a LEEP procedure and colposcopy performed a year prior, this explanation was another reason for her to feel guilty and blame herself for losing Savannah. “A social worker came and gave us a memory box from the infant loss support program. She also took pictures of her. She was so sweet. She was the only one that seemed to want to help. The doctor simply gave me Ativan, brochures on grieving, and sent me on my merry way.” The months after Savannah’s passing were dark and difficult. Carolyn struggled in coping and felt she had no one but Steve to rely on. “I had no support at all. I’ve never felt so isolated as when I lost her. I was put on Xanax. No one knew how to act around me.” Although Carolyn’s family made efforts to be involved and supportive, not all of them were able to do so. “One sister and both my parents insisted on meeting Savannah. They love her so much. They always buy things for her grave and just think of her. My oldest sister, however, was the queen of saying the worst things to say to a grieving mother. Things such as, “you can always have another”, “at least you weren't pregnant long enough to get attached to her”, and, “think of those parents who have to bury a child that actually lived.” It absolutely contributed to making things much worse.” Although she was given professional support, Carolyn didn’t find it helpful to her. “The infant loss program at Foothills is so far from me, and I found the therapist back then quite cold. There was a child loss support program at the old Children's Hospital. They didn't deal with infants. I recently had a therapist at South Health Campus for a time, until she decided that she didn't know how to adequately help a PTSD-diagnosed patient. So I gave up. There is not enough support in this city for infant loss. One small program in the north is not enough and I had not heard of a loss doula before. I even wish there was a separate area to give birth in cases like this. In all the other birthing rooms you hear healthy babies crying, while your room is silent.” When asked how she’s coping now, ten years later, Carolyn said, “I've been diagnosed officially with PTSD. I find I can work in a funeral home and preach about not feeling guilty, moving forward, coping, etc. but I take none of my own advice. There is so much guilt and self-hate. Ten years later, if you ask me what should have happened, I would say it should have been my life taken and hers spared. I still struggle with survivor’s guilt. I don't believe I deserved to live while she suffocated. I was supposed to protect her, I failed.” But ten years later, there have been many beautiful things to happen in Carolyn’s life too. Her sons, Jack Stephen Joaquin and Joshua van Leslie, were both born healthy and perfect. Based on her experience with Savannah, she was given a cerclage with both pregnancies at the 14-15 week mark. Although Jack came at 37 weeks, after the cerclage ripped at 35 weeks, with Josh, the cerclage had to be cut out prior to his birth. She’s also used her loss to fuel her passion for her career as a funeral director and embalmer. “Our (male) Funeral Director was the best support through the whole experience. He found someone to sew her a tiny bonnet and dress. He tried to cover every autopsy scar. He actually cared. This wasn't a job. He actually cared. I found him a few years ago and was able to thank him. Because of him, I’ve found my calling and am able to honour Savannah with every family I support.” I asked Carolyn how she wanted to end this article; what final words could adequately sum up her loss, her heartache and her experience. She didn’t hesitate to tell me. "I met a new angel mommy last year at the cemetery. She was at her twins grave, crying. They are one row over from Savannah. Being in the funeral home industry, with what seems to be so many babies lost at 20 weeks, I (apparently), have all the right things to say. I've told her that time does not heal all wounds, it simply teaches us how to cope, and to always be kind and gentle with yourself. Never feel guilty for finding enjoyment in things after a loss. It's not moving on. I never moved on. I chose to move forward and to take Savannah with me. Forever and always, my little Comrade.” Carolyn is a 33-year- old mother of three children; two growing sons, Jack Stephen Joaquin and Joshua van Leslie, and an angel daughter, Savannah Brooke. She lives in Silverado, in Calgary, with her husband, Steve, her sons, and her two wonderful furbabies, Sadie and Phoenix.
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AuthorRebel Mama. Free Spirit. Vulgar Dame. Adventurer. Wolf Queen. Outlaw. Archives
October 2016
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