5 Minute Free Write Day 5: Silence
On June 19, 1998 I gave birth to my fourth child and second son, Mason Tyler. Our sweet angel was born still at 28 weeks due to complications from a chromosomal abnormality. This post is dedicated to him and all the families that have lost precious babies.❤️
In the darkened room, I watched the blurred image of our fourth child appear on the sonogram screen. I had gone alone to this appointment because it was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and Stephen was home with our other three kiddos( Max 3, Makaela 2 and Hannah 18months) getting ready to head up north to the cabin for the long weekend.
The technician and I were chatting and everything seemed quite routine. Then suddenly she was silent. You know when you have that moment, that feeling in your gut that something is wrong? This was that moment. I asked if everything was ok, and she said that it was. I did not believe her for a moment.
Silence
Stephen met me at the door when I arrived home. The doctor had already called. There was indeed something very wrong with our son. We did not know whether it was a boy or girl
until the moment the DR called. The doctor said that we needed to return to the hospital that day for further testing.
Silence
Over the next 5 days I had 2 amniocentesis', MRI's and genetic counseling to determine what was wrong with our precious baby boy. We went from Praying for a healthy baby to Praying for a baby that would live. I didn't care what his health problems were or how challenging it might be to mother this boy, I just wanted my baby to live. I kept asking the doctors if he would die and then answer never changed. There was no answer, only....
Silence
On the day I delivered Mason, I desparately willed him to live. Against all the odds, I wanted five minutes, 1 minute, 5 seconds to hold my son while he was still alive. I knew he would not come home with me, but I needed to hold him, kiss him and tell him it was okay to go. I was obsessed with the idea that if he died before birth he was dying alone.
I watched the contraction monitor and refused to let anyone lower the sound. Even when his heart slowed and the nurses thought it would be easier, I refused to let them lower the sound or remove the momitor.
Mason lived until 10 minutes before he was delivered. I would never hold my son alive😞.
Silence
There was no baby crying
There were no cheers or congratulations
There were no doctors or nurses talking
Silence.....deafening silence. A silence that overcame me like a wet blanket and smothered the very life out of my body. The days and weeks following Mason's death are a blur. I don't remember anything but that awful silence. No baby crying, no siblings asking to hold and help with the new baby, nothing. Even friends and family were silent. No one knew what to say.
Silence became an unwanted yet oddly comforting presence in my life. It felt safe. I felt as though no words could ever describe or make any sense out of what happened. No words could give any measure of comfort or healing to our little family.
As the days and weeks turned into months, the not so silent rhythm of our lives returned. Laughter and love slowly made their noises in our home again. We were broken and battered and we will always feel like someone is missing in our life. However, now I do not fear the silence anymore, nor do I view it with such disdain when I look back now.
Silence is now the place where I meet my son in Prayer and remembrance. We visit together in the silence and it is good.
In the darkened room, I watched the blurred image of our fourth child appear on the sonogram screen. I had gone alone to this appointment because it was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and Stephen was home with our other three kiddos( Max 3, Makaela 2 and Hannah 18months) getting ready to head up north to the cabin for the long weekend.
The technician and I were chatting and everything seemed quite routine. Then suddenly she was silent. You know when you have that moment, that feeling in your gut that something is wrong? This was that moment. I asked if everything was ok, and she said that it was. I did not believe her for a moment.
Silence
Stephen met me at the door when I arrived home. The doctor had already called. There was indeed something very wrong with our son. We did not know whether it was a boy or girl
until the moment the DR called. The doctor said that we needed to return to the hospital that day for further testing.
Silence
Over the next 5 days I had 2 amniocentesis', MRI's and genetic counseling to determine what was wrong with our precious baby boy. We went from Praying for a healthy baby to Praying for a baby that would live. I didn't care what his health problems were or how challenging it might be to mother this boy, I just wanted my baby to live. I kept asking the doctors if he would die and then answer never changed. There was no answer, only....
Silence
On the day I delivered Mason, I desparately willed him to live. Against all the odds, I wanted five minutes, 1 minute, 5 seconds to hold my son while he was still alive. I knew he would not come home with me, but I needed to hold him, kiss him and tell him it was okay to go. I was obsessed with the idea that if he died before birth he was dying alone.
I watched the contraction monitor and refused to let anyone lower the sound. Even when his heart slowed and the nurses thought it would be easier, I refused to let them lower the sound or remove the momitor.
Mason lived until 10 minutes before he was delivered. I would never hold my son alive😞.
Silence
There was no baby crying
There were no cheers or congratulations
There were no doctors or nurses talking
Silence.....deafening silence. A silence that overcame me like a wet blanket and smothered the very life out of my body. The days and weeks following Mason's death are a blur. I don't remember anything but that awful silence. No baby crying, no siblings asking to hold and help with the new baby, nothing. Even friends and family were silent. No one knew what to say.
Silence became an unwanted yet oddly comforting presence in my life. It felt safe. I felt as though no words could ever describe or make any sense out of what happened. No words could give any measure of comfort or healing to our little family.
As the days and weeks turned into months, the not so silent rhythm of our lives returned. Laughter and love slowly made their noises in our home again. We were broken and battered and we will always feel like someone is missing in our life. However, now I do not fear the silence anymore, nor do I view it with such disdain when I look back now.
Silence is now the place where I meet my son in Prayer and remembrance. We visit together in the silence and it is good.
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