Unfortunately, this blog will probably not be an uplifting one for a while. I'm trying desperately to cope with the loss of my son, who was only with me for 18 weeks. I feel like I need to get out some of these feelings. I will start by introducing myself.
My name is Sarah Brazell. I'm 21 years old, but I'll be 22 on October 7th. I've been married for 6 months to an amazing husband. After roughly 2 months of marriage, I became pregnant with Matthew Paul Brazell. At 5 weeks, I was rushed to the hospital because of heavy bleeding. We thought we had lost our baby but I had suffered from a subchorionic hematoma, which is bleeding underneath the gestational sac. The doctor told me there was a 50% chance I would still miscarry, but if i made it out of the first trimester (12 weeks), that the risk goes down to 5%.
I struggled with the anxiety that came with every time I bled after that, but after I made it to 12 weeks I felt much more calm and happy. Like I was actually able to enjoy my pregnancy. I started taking pictures of my belly, so happy to see it was growing ever so slowly. We had a few scares but I always had a peace about me. I truly felt that everything was going to be ok.
At about 16 weeks, I passed a huge clot in the middle of the night while we were on vacation. I was so scared. When I called the midwife, she said that as long as I wasn't still bleeding that I could wait until the next morning to go to the hospital. We went the next morning and had an ultrasound. Little Matthew was moving and kicking and even yawning. He had a strong heartbeat, and they said there was just a small clot left near my cervix, and that pieces may come out over time.
I was so relieved. I thought that the hematoma was finally gone and I could truly relax for the rest of my pregnancy. I passed a few small clots over the next two weeks, but they never worried me.
On September 26, 2014, exactly 5 months before I was due, my water broke in my sleep. I didn't realize that was what had happened. I thought it was just more bleeding. I was almost calm while i sat in the bathroom, letting the rest come out. But I thought to myself "This might be too much blood, I should call the midwife." So I did. As I was talking to her I realized what was happening. I tried to maintain hope on our way to the hospital, but I knew in my heart that this was the beginning of the end of my sweet son's life.
They checked me and analyzed the fluid to make sure, but ultimately my kind midwife had to look me in the eye and tell me the awful truth: My water had broken and my son (though at this point we did not know his gender) would not live.
I cried and I wailed, feeling like I had shattered into a million pieces, wondering how I would put myself back together. I asked to look at him in an ultrasound. He was still alive but you could tell he was fading. I knew it would be the last time I would see him alive. His heartbeat was going up and down and he was very still.
I asked if it would hurt him when he died, or if anything I did would hurt him. She told me that he would fall asleep and not feel any pain. It was almost comforting to hear.
We talked about inducing labor, and we decided that I would try to do it without inducing, unless he had no heartbeat. They checked me thoughout the day and I had some small contractions, but nothing came of them. At around noon they did another ultrasound to check for a heartbeat, and this time there was nothing. I felt myself shatter again. I was crying out, yelling, asking God why he had let this happen. I had thought that maybe I would be able to deliver him alive. But all my hope was gone.
All I could feel was anger and sadness. I had absolutely no control or say in my own son's life. Why did He have to take him?
We started the induction process shortly after. It was very painful and took a very long time for it to be effective. I labored for 37 hours. I tried to go through it without pain medicine but it became unbearable after about 24 hours. Eventually, I gave in and had an epidural. It relieved so much pain but completely numbed my right leg. My left leg had some feeling (I was able wiggle my toes and change the position of it), but I began panicking that I couldn't feel my right leg. I screamed, feeling once again that I had no control over my body.
The nurse had to give me something to make me sleep and calm down. She turned down the medicine so I wouldn't be as numb, but getting the feeling back took about 45 minutes. I slept fitfully and woke up at around 12:30am, feeling pain in my back. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it became more and more intense. At 1:03am, I lifted my sheets and realized that I had given birth to my precious baby boy and I had never even felt it.
I was upset that I never felt anything. I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel my son leaving my body. I wanted to remember what it felt like. Again, the feeling of helplessness overcame me. I couldn't even control when he left my body?
But then I felt oddly at peace for a while. The nightmare was ending. My son was in my arms, perfect as can be. He looked like he was asleep. I love him so much. I told him I would have done anything to save him. I never wanted to let him go, but at the same time it was so draining to look at him, knowing he went to heaven 37 hours ago.
My husband was so overwhelmed. I knew that this was the first time he realized he was really a father. And his wife was a mother. But his son was gone.
My parents and my sister all got a chance to hold precious Matthew. But eventually we had to give him to the nurse, never being able to hold him again.
I thought seeing him for the first time would be the hardest part. But the hardest part was leaving the hospital. It was over and I was no longer pregnant. My son is in a morgue or something. I was being wheeled out, clutching the teddy bear and the blanket they gave me. My son had been wrapped in that blanket. It almost smelled like him.
I've been home for a full day now. I'm in a very dark place. I keep looking at myself and wishing for that small bump to be there. Aching that it is gone. It's very difficult to let that teddy bear and blanket go. I've been sleeping with it and walking around with it. Maybe I'm going crazy. But it makes me feel like I'm still connected with my son somehow. He touched this bear and this blanket. Now I'm touching it. Wiping my tears with his sweet blanket.
