Tomorrow, August 24th, 2020, is our daughter’s due date. The only thing is, she won’t be coming because she’s already gone. I have experienced a lot of emotions with this day approaching.
I have felt emotional because she won’t be here with us in this life. We never got to hear her cry, see her open her eyes, or watch her as she discovers the world. In a lot of ways, the 24th is a reminder of what we’ve lost and missed out on. At the same time, the 24th is a reminder of a beautiful daughter we have in heaven and the day I did deliver her, April 12th which was Easter Sunday.
Anthony and I call Adlee our Easter baby. When Anthony and I decided how we’d proceed with Adlee’s delivery, we had high hopes that with my induction she would come on Easter Sunday as a reminder of the beautiful gift of the Resurrection of not only our Savior, but all of us, and also the salvation of little children.
The day before going in for Adlee’s delivery my mom and I went to Walmart to purchase some supplies I’d need after delivery because, believe it or not, my post-partum would be just like any other woman’s who carries full-term. I remember my mom needed to go to the baby section for something and I couldn’t bear to go with her. It would’ve been a reminder of all the things we wouldn’t need and the cute outfits I’d never get to dress our baby in -boy or girl.
Leading up to delivery, Anthony and I still didn’t know the gender of our baby. With the positioning of her legs, there was no way of knowing. I wanted something special for our baby and years ago I had set a personal goal for myself that I wanted to crochet a blanket for each of my babies. Determined for this child to have one too, I crocheted a border on a square of a gender-neutral crocheted quilt I had been working on. With the completion of the tiny blanket and packing our things, Anthony and I headed to the hospital around 7 PM on Easter Sunday.
I was checked in at the hospital, taken to a delivery room, changed into a hospital gown, and by 8:00 PM was vaginally administered medication to start the process of induction. Because Adlee would be small it was unnecessary for me to dilate all the way to a 10. I was told I’d need to reach a five or a six and that the hope was the baby would essentially fall out of my body in its placenta. Additionally, we were told she most likely wouldn’t come until 3:30 AM if not 6:30 AM.
We were disappointed, said a prayer she’d come that night, and bided our time. Anthony and I played Phase 10 until it wasn’t enough to distract me from my contractions. We then turned on a movie on his iPad as I breathed through them. To me, it felt like period cramps but I at least had a small break between the pain. With my contractions becoming more frequent, I simply focused on breathing slowly in and out to help me control the pain.
A little something about me… I have been TERRIFIED of an epidural my whole life. I have had this fear that if I get one I’d be one of the few random persons whose epidural would go wrong and I’d end up paralyzed for life. With this fear, I pushed through my contractions. Anthony, however, was concerned because I was obviously in pain. I felt I could handle it, but where it was already 10 PM, I was tired, and I’d have to continue this for who knows how many more hours all to not even get to keep my baby, I finally conceded.
When Anthony called the nurse to get an epidural ordered for me, we were told the anesthesiologist had just gone in for a C-section, so I kept breathing through for another hour. When the anesthesiologist came he told me to lay on my side and curl my back. He emphasized the importance of me holding still, especially because I am so small… totally feeding my fears of an epidural.
As he gave me the epidural I was in so much pain. It wasn’t contraction pain, it was pain from having that needle pushed into my back. I felt a pop in my back and it killed way more than the contractions. I would regret ever getting the epidural because not only did my back kill me for the next six weeks or so, but about 30 minutes later at 11:47 PM on Easter Sunday, I felt a drop and something warm between my legs. Adlee Jean Armstrong had slid down and out with her placenta intact, leaving my womb for good.
Because no one had expected me to deliver so quickly, Anthony and I were the only ones in the room. I told Anthony what I’d felt, to get a nurse, and that the baby was here. Nurses were rushing in as well as the doctor on staff that night. As the nurses were getting our baby cleaned up Anthony stepped out to call my parents. With all the COVID-19 restrictions we were fortunate enough to get my parents and my sister in to visit and see Adlee as that would be their only opportunity.
I brought my camera and took some pictures of Anthony and Adlee, some of just Adlee, and my parents and sister helped us get some pictures of the three of us. To me, she was so beautiful. Her toes were so perfect and she had such a round little head. Her nose, mouth, and ears were so small. Everything about her was as tiny as they come.
Eventually, we had the nurses take her for the night, said a prayer together, and my family left. One of the CNA’s on staff was able to get some footprints of our baby girl and was actually someone I knew and it was a tender mercy for me.
I was eventually moved to post-partum around five the next morning. It goes without saying Anthony and I were exhausted. I felt really blessed again as a dear friend of mine was also on staff that night and we were able to talk and visit for a little bit.
In the end, I got just a few hours of sleep. I was woken up so many times so all I could wonder was, “How do moms with a newborn baby to take care of do this? I am exhausted!” We got to see our baby girl one more time before leaving. We held her and loved on her as best we could. I sang her a lullaby, the only one I’d ever get to sing, and we said goodbye. Even though she was already gone, saying goodbye was so hard.
Sunday, April 12th was easily one of the hardest days of my life with the day of her burial being the hardest because dead or alive, we’d never get to see or hold her again.
I was eventually discharged late that afternoon and went home. I hoped my milk wouldn’t come in, but it did three days later and boy was it painful! Having engorged breasts was such a miserable experience. It took me about a week or two to get rid of it.
When I was feeling better after a few days I tried cleaning a little bit and wore myself out. I was exhausted, in a lot of pain, had chills, and even spiked a small fever. Lesson? Just rest after delivery, no matter how good you feel. I still bled a lot for the first week and after that, it was more like a heavy period that lasted 2-3 weeks. There was no tearing so I healed pretty quickly and was able to resume normal activities after about four weeks.
Sunday, April 12th was easily one of the hardest days of my life with the day of her burial being the hardest because dead or alive, we’d never get to see or hold her again.
It was only a few days after the delivery Anthony and I went to the mortuary to dress our baby girl and get a few pictures taken. We put on the tiniest cloth diaper you ever saw, a cute pink dress, and a small white hat. When we laid her down in her 12-inch white casket, we wrapped her in the blanket I’d made her, placed a small teddy bear, and a bracelet that says “forever” as a way for her and me to remain connected as I have an identical one.
The next day was her burial where we gathered with friends and family. Anthony directed the whole thing and dedicated her grave. I read a letter I’d written to her, we sang “Families Can Be Together Forever”, and placed flowers at her site. Burying my child was the last thing I ever expected, but it has made me stronger and has only anchored my faith that much more in Jesus Christ.
Losing my child has been a grueling process. It’s a heartbreaking process. Losing my child has changed my life forever and a piece of my heart lives in heaven with my baby girl. With a heart that I believe will always feel a level of grief, it is also filled with peace because I have an angel in heaven who I know wishes that for me.
Happy due date Adlee. I love you, baby girl. You will live on forever in my heart.
With a heart that I believe will always feel a level of grief, it is also filled with peace because I have an angel in heaven who I know wishes that for me.
