Celebrating the Joys and Pains of Motherhood

Today is Mother's Day.

I celebrate the life of the first person who ever loved me, my mom. I know I haven't been the perfect daughter, far from it, in fact. But she has never stopped loving me, and worrying about me.

I celebrate the life of my son, my first born, the one I delivered fifteen years ago when life was a lot easier and simpler, when I was still immature and naive. I celebrate every kiss, every hug, each childhood antic,  all those book pages he tore and toys he destroyed when he was a tot.  I celebrate the songs he sang when he was a child, the times he danced.  I celebrate the violin pieces he plays, the original songs he makes, the stories  he writes.  I celebrate everything that he is and everything he can still be.  I celebrate the love I have for him, his love for me, and all the years we still have ahead of us, the memories we have yet to make.

I celebrate the lives of the babies I lost early in my womb. I have never seen them, never felt them move inside me but they gave me and my husband joy and they will always be my babies.

I celebrate the life of my baby Sofie, my dream, God's perfect gift, the baby I gave birth to at twenty three weeks gestation, who struggled to stay with me for another hour and twenty eight minutes. I celebrate the joy she gave me and her dad. I celebrate each little movement she made inside me. I celebrate the sound of her heartbeat and her tiny body, every part of it.  I celebrate the hopes and dreams we had for her future.  I celebrate all those hours, days and nights I spent begging God to allow us to keep her.  I celebrate every drop of tear Ruel and I shed for her.  I celebrate her memory, every second I spend thinking about her, missing her, loving her.

I celebrate the life of the normal and healthy baby girl that I'm waiting for our Creator to give me and Ruel. I celebrate the wonderful years she will share with me, her dad and her brother, Toots. I celebrate the memories we will all make together as a family.

I celebrate the joys and the pains of motherhood.

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers. May God bless us and our children.

To Sofia--first letter

Dearest Sofie,

It's been eleven days since you were born...since you went back to heaven.  I am so sorry we were not able to keep you here with us, that we could not protect you.  We begged God to allow us to keep you but it seems God wanted you back with Him at once.

I miss you every day.  I regret that I wasn't able to give you even just one hug, that I wasn't able to hold you close. I wonder if you would have recognized the sound of my heartbeat if you had a chance to lie on my chest. I wonder if that would have saved you, knowing that you were with me.

I wonder so many things because I still keep thinking if I did some things differently, maybe you would still be with us.

There are so many things I want to tell you, teach you and do for you.  And my heart aches knowing that I will never be able to do so.

I hope you know how much we love you and how happy we were when we found out you were growing inside me.

Thank you, Baby Sofie, for making us happy for twenty three weeks. Thank you for every smile you gave me and your dad. Thank you for making our days brighter. Thank you for giving us something to look forward to.

I hope you will not be sad if you see me crying, like your dad said you would.  Someday I will not cry as often as I do today but when that happens, please do not think I have forgotten you. Because I will never forget you.   Someday your dad and I will have another baby girl but that will not make me love you any less. I will always love you, I will always miss you.  You are a part of me and I just know you are my mini-me.  You have a  place in my heart that nobody can ever fill.  I will never ever be complete until we are together once more.

I love you, my baby girl.

Love always, (flying kisses to heaven)

Mommy

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.

I need prayers for my baby.

Every day I wish that I am just having a bad dream. 
Every day I wish that I would finally wake up.
But I do not. 
It's been more than two weeks. 

When I learned I got pregnant in December 2014, I thought that everything was going to be fine.
My first ultrasounds were okay.  Baby's heartbeat was strong. 

I was scheduled for a routine congenital anomaly scan and gender scan on my 20th week  
I was very excited about the gender scan but a bit anxious about the anomaly scan not because I
felt something was wrong but just because I was a natural worrier. 

Nothing had prepared me for what the sonologist told me.  I had no amniotic fluid and there was water in the baby's abdomen, around its heart and around its lungs.  She offered no further explanations and just told us to see our OB.  I didn't even get to know my baby's gender.  However, at the time and at the present moment, gender is the least of my worries.  I just want my baby to be normal and healthy. 

The ultrasound report read "Consider hydrops fetalis".  We googled it and that's when I felt the world crumbling down on me.  I felt the bubble of happiness I've been in for the past months pop, and left me feeling empty.  I cried till the bones in my face hurt, just like they do when you have a terrible toothache.

We saw our OB two days after, on the Monday after Easter.  I was still stuck in Lent.
My husband and I were both hoping she would take one look at the ultrasound pictures and declare that the sonologist had it all wrong.  But she did not.  The hydrops affecting my baby was non-immune hydrops and according to her, if it was the other type, there would be something we could do to treat it.  However, since it was not, the only thing I could do was wait.  Imagine being only at 20 weeks at the time, and my OB told me I could go into labor anytime.  She even told me I could already stop taking my prenatal vitamins.

I did not want to believe her. I do not want to believe her.  I am still taking my prenatal vitamins regularly and we are waiting for a miracle. My baby's heartbeat is strong, and as long as she is fighting, we will be fighting this battle with her.  Doctors are experts, but their knowledge and expertise are limited compared to the goodness, mercy and power of our God, the same God who created the heavens and the earth and all living things.

We had another ultrasound on the 11th of April.  It showed that the fluid had spread to the scalp.  I had less amniotic fluit.  But my baby's heartbeat was strong. 

We went to another doctor to seek for a second opinion.  We were given two other doctors who could take care of the baby once the baby is out.  I do not want to imagine how much the procedures would cost us.  Honestly, I do not know where to get the money. 

I cannot remember praying this hard or praying as much.  Sometimes, I still feel afraid.  But most of the time, I feel confident that God is doing His work.  He will give us this miracle.  I do not care what the doctors or the ultrasound results say.   In the mighty name of Jesus, this baby will be healthy and normal.  I am claiming this miracle for my baby.

I hope that those of you who stumbled on my blog, will whisper a short prayer for my baby. 

Thank you.