The End of Sofia's Battle

It's been nine days since I gave birth.

Yet I haven't heard a single cry from her.

I have never touched her fingers or counted her toes.

I have never smelled her.

I do not know what she really looked like if you take away all the poisonous fluids from her body.

All I know is what her cheeks felt like against my cheek.

And it's a memory I know I will try to keep holding on to for as long as possible for we all know that memories fade away through time.

Our baby girl was born at 23 weeks gestation on the 25th of April.

It was something we didn't expect. We have researched about hydrops. We were told I could go into labor anytime. But we believed God would give us a miracle. I believed I could carry her till August or even June to give her a chance. But it didn't happen like that. Clearly, God had other plans.

We went to the Medical City for a scheduled ultrasound and check up with our perinatologist. The ultrasound results revealed that the hydrops was progressing fast. Still, I kept my hopes up, counting only on God to make things better for my baby.

Our perinatologist found out that my blood pressure was too high so she informed my OB who in turn talked to me on the phone to tell me that I had to undergo a c-section right then. It was the only way to make sure I didn't have a stroke. He also said the baby could die inside and then there would be nothing we could do but if the baby was out, they could try to do something and give baby a fighting chance.

I asked my husband to call my son and tell him to go to the hospital right away. I wanted to give him my last reminders on how he should live his life just in case I didn't survive.  I haad been praying for the baby day and night for three weeks and at that point, I knew I just had to resign myself to God's will as far as the baby was concerned.  The situation was out of my control. I knew it wasn't the time yet to deliver the baby and that delivering that early would decrease the chances of survival for the baby. But I was also in trouble and I kept remembering that my son still needed my love and guidance.

I was wheeled to the pre-labor room, given medicines for my bp and something for the baby's lungs. I  was then shaved and brought to the operating room once it was ready.

The anesthesia wasn't supposed to make me sleep but I willed myself to do so and the next thing I knew was my husband waking me up and telling me that we had a baby girl. I was happy, sad and scared at the same time.

I couldn't see her in between the folds of the blue blanket they wrapped her in. She was so tiny. When I finally did, I found out that her whole face was affected by the hydrops except for the part where her nose and mouth were. I later found out that almost 100 percent of her body was affected.

I couldn't touch her because both my arms were strapped so I just kissed her thrice then I rubbed my
cheek against hers. Though her skin looked different, her skin was still smooth and felt like a healthy
baby's. It felt so nice against my cheek.

I allowed myself to sleep because I still believed God would save my baby and that we would see each other again. Had I known that things would be different, I would have just asked for the baby to stay with me for as long as possible.

My husband later told me that the doctors didn't try to drain the fluids from her body anymore because her lungs had already collapsed when she was born. It was probably only her heart that allowed her to stay alive for one hour and twenty-eight minutes.  She was a fighter, like me.

The good Lord allowed her to be baptized by a priest and she was christened the name I chose for her, Sofia Marie.

I envy my husband because he was able to hold her in his arms until her last breath.

My pregnancy had ended not with me being wheeled out of the hospital with a baby in my arms but with me being wheeled out holding a cold marble urn that held the cremains of my baby.

I miss feeling her inside me. I miss talking to her and telling her that she had to hold on because we would still give each other lots of hugs and kisses, because I would still read her stories and teach her how to write and draw, that we would still sing and dance together.

I try to smell my shirt where my milk had leaked and imagine it was her scent.

She is now in heaven where there are no hydrops. She is pretty with her daddy's forehead and my small brown eyes.

Jesus would be the one to kiss her for me.

She will dance for the Lord. She will sing with the other angels. She will play in the heavenly garden until we are all reunited with her.

We are still grieving. And though the tears would become less through time, she will never be
forgotten.

She will always be missed.

She will always be loved.

And life will never be the same again.