Conor Hendrickson July 28, 2014

Our sweet baby boy Conor Hendrickson passed away at 19 weeks on July 28, 2014 due to an incompetent cervix, meaning Heavenly Father needed him home.

I started having some pretty awful contractions after breakfast but I thought I could handle them so I ignored them. Throughout the day it was progressively getting worse, it started going into my back and there was lots of extra vaginal discharge. So much so, I started to research all about the mucus plug which I assumed was the problem. I called the on call nurse and she didn't seem too worried so I took a hot bath and tried to lay down. Chris got home from his class around eight and I couldn't take the pain anymore. I got up to go pee and before I could even pee, a softball sized sack of fluid came out, just hanging there. I screamed for Chris and he ran to get my parents. I sat there on the toilet shaking and sobbing. I knew this wasn't good and I knew this baby could not survive outside of the womb at only 19 weeks. I can't even explain in words the sheer terror I was experiencing. I hated it. It's like it wasn't me.. I don't know how to describe it.

My dad came down and I saw the look in his eyes. It was devastating. Without saying anything, we all knew this baby wasn't going to live. As my mom tried to get me to breathe, my dad and Chris took me upstairs.We got in the car and went to the hospital. The ER ran me straight upstairs to Labor and Delivery.

My contractions were still really strong and I felt like my body wanted to push. I kept trying to hold it in, trying to protect him.. I had no idea what was happening so I grabbed the nurse by the arm and told her to tell me honestly. She said "You're baby won't survive this". I have never felt such panic in my life. I kept saying "okay" as I just sobbed into Chris' chest. There was nothing I did wrong and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. By the time my doctor got there I had delivered his body. By that time, he had passed. It was too much stress on his little body and he just couldn't handle it.

He had me push and the rest of him came through, along with so much blood. I started to feel dizzy and light headed. He weighed in at 8 oz, was 9 in long and a boy! I was shocked. I had convinced myself it was a girl just because the pregnancy was polar opposite of Owens. I had a girls name picked out so when he came out a boy, I had no idea what to think. I looked at Chris and we both were clueless as to a name. All of the sudden after holding his tiny body in my hand, I felt the name Conor come to me. It had been on a baby names list when Owen was being thought of but at the very bottom and I hadn't thought of it since. I told Chris and he said it was perfect. Tiny but perfect. Doctor Anderson said everything was perfect. His fingers and toes, his little arms, and his nose that looked exactly like Owens. He was perfect and all he kept telling me was that he had no idea why this happened. I may not know why but I know that there is a reason behind it. But hearing that from a medical standpoint, there is no explanation, it's unfair.

 I was so sick and dizzy. I felt the room spinning. They kept telling me it was all of the blood I was losing. But I couldn't help but feel like it was just the whole situation. He waited for about a half hour to see if the placenta would deliver and it wasn't. Doctor Anderson sounded worried when it wasn't coming so he scheduled the operating room for a D&C. They left baby with Chris and took me into the OR. I remember at that point feeling so worthless. I just laid on the operating table with tears coming so fast, while all of the nurses and doctors were telling me how sorry they were. I couldn't even nod my head. I didn't want to hear it, I wanted my little boy. I wanted Chris to be a dad again. I wanted Owen to have his little brother. I wanted him. Then I went under.

I remember being back in my room and not fully awake but needing to throw up. So I did, all over my bed. As if the puddles of blood, the shots and blood drawn every hour wasn't enough. We tried to sleep through the rest of the morning but it was impossible. This morning we got a lot of time to hold him but I just bawled every time. It was so unreal. Holding a dead child has to be the worst feeling in the world. I was breathless at some points. I felt like I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it. I'm Sarah, I don't have angel babies (I miscarried a five weeks before Owen), other people do. I love this gospel and I know that is how I am surviving this but it doesn't mean this hurts any less just because I know I will see him again. This sucks. It's awful. While Chris was holding him, I looked up the meaning of the name Conor. Turns out it's Irish like Owens and it means strong willed or high desire, which means a strong intention or aim to start a new life. 

I couldn't even get through the sentence without feeling completely okay. This was meant to be. He is too great for this life. I am at peace with it. I am still broken and I have cried all day but I know he is okay. I know that my grandparents are up there running around with him. I know he is happy and he is beautiful. He is serving a far greater mission than he could have here. We are okay. As okay as you can be in this kind of situation. Owen doesn't get what happened but he understands that I'm not okay and he has been the sweetest guy giving me hugs and wanting me around. Chris and I are still in a little bit of denial but I'm sure that will phase out soon. I wanted to write this so everyone knows what happened. Thank you in advance for the love and support.