Ryan and Lou are engaged!!

My brother in law Ryan has been dating the cutest girl and they FINALLY got engaged. Just kidding, it's been like, a few months, but you know, in Mormon time that's like eternity. We hiked to the Grotto in Payson canyon where they had their first date. Owen was not thrilled with this idea. 

Dark heavy clouds and thunder started rolling in so we tried to hurry.

Owen playing fetch with a couple dogs. He loved it.

As he was on his way to the ground, she said yes. haha It was the sweetest thing. He got to his knee and asked and by that time she had said yes at least ten times.

Owen has had a little crush on Lou and he was not happy at all that they are now going to get married. haha He said "NOOOO" after she said yes. Poor guy.

We are so happy for them and we just absolutely love her. And in true Mormon fashion the date is October 10th, that's about seven weeks I believe. haha It's possible, we did it. 

Charlotte's due date 7-31-15

  Today is our little miss' due date. July 31st, just like her brother (Owen). I had a feeling this day would not be my best but I didn't think I would be completely depressed either. Thanks to the hospital for helping with that.

I got a call a couple days ago from the hospital calling to confirm an appointment. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what I was not remembering. When I asked what for she jokingly said "Well it's your due date tomorrow and we've gotta get that baby outta there".

Obviously, she didn't know. She didn't know how much that one sentence took me to such a deep, dark, sad place.  I just told her that I already had her and she didn't live. That's all I could muster out. As if I needed another reminder that I won't ever have my baby in the way that most women/families do. She apologized and I hung up. I fell to the kitchen floor sobbing. Sobbing so loud it woke Owen up from his nap. He quietly opened his bedroom door, walked over to me, sat on my lap and patted my chest while I cried. I hadn't cried that hard since the night we lost her.

This wouldn't be as upsetting but this is the fifth time I've had to tell a someone at Inter-Mountain Health Care that my little girl did not live. The thing is I LOVE Inter-Mountain Health Care. I have never had a problem with them.. until now. Everyone I have dealt with (and that's a lot of people) have been absolutely amazing.

"So you just had a c-section six weeks ago? Hows the little one?"
"I'm just calling to see when I can come by and check on how Charlotte is doing. Babies that are born prematurely sometimes develop slower"
"I see you just had a baby, how's she doing?"
"Calling to register you to have that baby"
Etc.

Why is this not in my file somewhere? Why does it not have her time of death? Why are the doctors/nurses/anesthesiologists not informed? Everything is electronic now days, it should be easy right? Just in my file? Why?

I get it, someone didn't enter it in. Someone forgot. Someone didn't take the time. And the first few times it hurt but I let it roll of my shoulder. But now it's starting to hurt. Like really hurt my feelings. To be honest, I'm kinda surprised I have any anymore. After all I've been through you'd think they'd be all gone.

Owen and I went to her grave before all of this happened. I shed a few tears but did pretty okay, I thought. The grass is just now growing in. And that seemed to hurt my feelings too. Everything does now. It feels like a year, at least, since we buried her. But at the same time it feels like it happened last night. Time seems to disappear. The days are long but the weeks are short.

At church today, everyone in Relief Society was asked to introduce themselves for all of the new people in the ward. A friend next to me introduced herself with her two months old on her lap, I introduced myself and the girl next to me did, also with a baby on her lap. To which the teacher responded "And look! They all have beautiful little babies".

I know it was an accident but it hurt. I think I'm a little fragile right now. People don't seem to be aware of things they say. I'm not claiming to be perfect at it, but I sure try. I need to build up a tough skin for those types of comments that I'm going to get my whole life.

Finally some good news! We are moving and that is good for us. Chris got on with Salt Lake City Fire (again) and he starts the academy on August 31st and he/we couldn't be happier. But the commute was going to kill him so we decided to move to Draper. The "in-between" city, close enough for him to get to work and close enough for me to see friends and family in Utah county. It will be good. I told Chris right after he was offered the job again that we needed to move. I need out of this little apartment. This is the place I was supposed to bring my baby home too. This was where her clothes, blankets, crib was set up. I hate being here because it's a constant reminder of what I can't ever bring home.

A few weeks ago my mom found this picture of Chris and I that was in my local newspaper about our engagement. She said something like "Did you ever imagine that these two would experience what they've experienced in these short five years?"

My answer- never in a million years.

I remember being a young, naive, little Young Woman with no life experience whatsoever and listening to lessons on Sundays about temple marriage, families, motherhood and life. Everything seemed like if you got married in the temple you'd have a good life. That it didn't necessarily mean it would be easy but it would be good. I've doubted that a lot lately.

I could have never anticipated what was coming to me.

 I look back at that girl in the picture and the decisions she made to marry in the temple and make covenants she didn't understand. I look back at her I want to warn her. I want to warn her and tell her that that so called heart break over the boy in high school was absolutely nothing compared to what was coming. I would tell her that life gets even harder for her. That she needs desperately to stay close to what she believes in. I would tell her that she needs to have a firm standing in it. Because that is the one and only way she will survive. That she will experience trials that will shake her down to the core of who she is and even doubt what she believes. That she will want out. That she will cry and yell and ask why. A lot. That she will feel lost and alone. That she will have to reinvent herself.  I would tell her that she will have a new perspective that she won't want. I want to tell her that she will experience pain and heart break like never before.. and that it will never fully go away. That there will be a hole in her heart forever. I want to warn her. I look at her I'm glad she had some time to experience happiness. I see pictures of her and I want to be her again. I want to be carefree, silly, outgoing, confident and happy because it will be a long time until she feels that way again. I want to tell her that I'm proud of her for getting married in the temple and making and living by those covenants she made.

Because now, those covenants mean a lot more. Now, she understands them. She appreciates them. They mean the world to her. They are the reason she is still breathing and living. They are her life.

So, no. I never saw this coming. Nothing can prepare you for it. But, at least now, I'm seeing the reason for going to Young Womens. For listening to those lessons. For going to church when I didn't want to. Because somewhere along the way,

I gained a strong testimony of this gospel. I gained a testimony of families. And that they can be and will be together forever. I am making it my life goal to be able to be with them again. They are mine and I will do whatever it takes to reach their level.

Charlotte Pictures

Right now, I'm having a hard time putting my feelings into one box in order to label them. That's actually been going on for about.. well.. months now. Angry, distraught, hurt, mad, betrayed, toyed with, played, teased.. I think I could go on for days. 

This little girl has changed my life. This experience has shaken every little ounce of faith I've ever had to the surface and I'm trying to hold on to the piece I have left. Somedays I feel okay, not great but okay. And others, I feel so betrayed, by God. I know, that's not what I'm supposed to say but that's how I feel. We prayed, faster, begged, and pleaded for her. We needed her. And then she was taken. What's worse is that we had to take her. We had to make the decision to let her go. 

 My sister in law worded it perfectly when she said "I imagine it's hard to be happy when so much of your heart is buried in the ground". 

That's how I feel. Like, I only had broken pieces to begin my journey with her and then I buried most of them with her when she died. 

We got the rough draft of her headstone today. As if that's something I wanted to do. With Conor, I wanted it done fast. I wanted it over with. And with her, I feel like once it's done, it's done. She is officially gone.  A name and a date on granite and it's over. That's it. 

That is why I am eternally grateful for these pictures. 

Pallister- Killians Mosaic Syndrome

I keep updating this one post so it's going to be a long one. 
You probably saw on my Instagram or my sisters Facebook page that I was in the hospital yesterday, my birthday. Without getting too detailed (but you know I'm no good at that) the bleeding never really went away after I had Charlotte and while on vacation it started getting worse. Assuming it was my period I didn't do anything about it until we got home and it got a lot worse. Like, I started feeling lightheaded I was losing so much blood. I finally decided to get it checked, after hours of course, and went into the ER. Chris stayed home because Owen was sleeping. They did some blood work and needed to take a pregnancy test just in case. But due to the excessive amount of blood, a normal urine test would be tainted. So the nurse stuck a catheter in. Now, before you assume that's no big deal, let me just tell you, it's a big deal. When I had Owen I had one but I also had an epidural so it was actually quite pleasant. Getting one without an epidural is no joke. I cried.

Obviously the test came back negative, like I told them it would. So next was an ultrasound. The on-call doctor was a tired jerk. I get it, he didn't want to be there but did he think I did? He kept asking me why I came in right now of all the times to go in. Not a happy guy. After that was done and I left him with a huge bloody mess the doctor came in and said I had a Retained Product of Conception aka whoever did the c-section didn't quite clean it out all the way. 

He said I would need a D&C if this medication he gave me wouldn't work. This medication is called Methergine. It makes your uterus contract so that it will get rid of whatever is in there bleeding. He told me it would feel like labor but it would hopefully solve the problem. At first I thought "Labor? Are you kidding me? No, thanks." Then I thought, well crap if this is going to stop it, what choice to I have? So he sent me home with the drug and told me to take it and have Chris go get my Hydrocodone prescription filled, because I was going to need it. That scared me but I did. The ER doc had called Dr. Anderson and he said to call him later that day if the bleeding hadn't stopped. I got home around three a.m. and had Chris driving all over Orem and Provo to find a Pharmacy that was open 24 hours. Just so you know, it's the Walgreens right by Utah Valley hospital. 

Luckily, the Methergine didn't work at all. I had a couple small contractions but it didn't hurt. 
Finally, some mercy. 

We were both up until about five and slept until nine when Owen woke up. My sister (life saver) came and got him and we went right back to bed. We woke up around one and nothing had changed. I was still bleeding a ton so I decided to call and he said I needed a D&C. We went straight to the hospital, got all checked in and waited, surprised right? When the anesthesiologist (I didn't even have to spell check that!) came in he asked about our five week old baby. Apparently no one told him.. So I did. And then I told him it was my birthday. He asked me what would make it better and I told him I didn't want to see or remember the OR- last time was a nightmare. He said he could make that happen so when it was time for surgery, the nurse rolled me into the OR, I heard 80's rock and roll music, he told everyone it was my birthday and that I was getting the good stuff. I don't remember anything after that. Happy Birthday to me! 

Thanks to Susan for the very flattering picture.

 Okay- 
So I started this post a few weeks ago and I'm finally back from a little vacation to finish it. Remember how I said the feelings of depression and anger were coming soon? Well, they've come. 
My grieving cycle is rough- first acceptance then comes the anger and depression. 

It was nice to escape our real life, our to-do list and mostly our bills, but unfortunately we couldn't leave our emotions. 
Chris and I will have been married for a short five years next month and we decided while we were on vacation to just celebrate it there. We went to Universal Studios, Knotts Berry Farm, The Cheesecake Factory and the beach (several times). It was fun.. and hard. These are things that would normally make me ecstatic but I, (I should say we) still felt something was missing. Not just something, someone. My sweet, baby girl. Charlotte May. 

This little girl of mine is amazing. 

This time is so different, it's hard to explain. We miss her. More than miss, we long for, grieve for her. We miss Conor too, but we really miss Charlotte. I felt like I got to know her. She had a feisty little personality.  She was so active the whole time that I was blessed to carry her and I feel like we got to know her so well. Every night we'd put Owen to bed and sit on the couch feeling her move while watching Netflix.  Chris' facial expressions when he felt her were priceless. I dreamed of dealing with her personality in high school. She seemed so much like me and I was excited for the challenge. I thought for sure she would be dramatic. I would imagine her giving me all kinds of attitude when she didn't get what she wanted, in true princess fashion. In my head she was an overly dramatic little diva.

Turns out she really was.

Dr. Fung called me the other day. She was the Pediatric Neonatologist who was taking care of Charlotte when she was born. She called to tell me she got the chromosome and blood test results back. Are you ready for this?

Little miss Charlotte had Pallister-Killians Mosaic Syndrome (PKS). It's a chromosome abnormality when a there is a duplicate of the chromosome 12 that appears for no known reason. She is so special, she had not only one or two extra copies but four extra copies of the 12th chromosome. So, what does that mean? Well, to be honest, we're still trying to figure that out. Dr. Fung went on to tell me just how extremely rare this syndrome is. Remember when we thought the Diaphragmatic Hernia was rare? 1 in 4,000?

Well, Pallister-Killians Syndrome has been diagnosed less than 200 times.. worldwide.

We're talking about 1 in billions here. This doesn't happen. She, personally, has never seen this and neither have her coworkers. She said this was in a section of her textbook in medical school that the professor said they would never see. "It's just something you read about, not something you actually see". She was amazed at this, at Charlotte. The fact that she made it that far with all odds against her, was amazing. She thanked me several times for letting the University do the autopsy. She said they have gathered so much research already and they aren't done.

Pallister-Killians Syndrome is so rare there isn't a lot of research on it. After answering several of my questions, Dr. Fung continued, she said that Chris or I could be a carrier of an extra 12 chromosome, meaning, one of us passed it on to her. Before, if ever, we decide to try again we need to go through genetic counseling and get genetic testing done. Apparently, very extensive testing. If it turns out one of us is a carrier, we need to decide if it's worth the risk to try again. Because there isn't any real detailed information about this syndrome, she said, they can't even tell us if it will happen again or if this was a one time thing. It could happen to every kid we have from here on out or never happen again. She also mentioned that this could have been the reason Conor died. Talk about terrifying.
As I'm going through this post, adding and editing, I had typed "It's still sinking in". Well, like I said, it's been a few weeks now and it has officially "sunk in".

If one of us is a carrier of this syndrome it means that we could be done. At 23 years old. We've already lost two, I will not do it again. Trying again is way too risky to us. Basically, this genetic testing is our future. It could add a very devastating future to our already devastating life. As of this very second that makes me sad. That makes me more than sad it makes me cry. Coming from the girl who never wanted kids, this very possible fact makes me cry. It hurts every part of my heart, of my soul. It's taken me three years to come to terms with and learn to love motherhood and now it's being taken. I know "for a short time" and I "will see them again" and blah, blah, blah. That doesn't help.

The characteristics of PKS include:
-hypotonia (low muscle tone/ "floppiness")
-abnormal facial features (i.e. high forehead, broad nasal bridge, wide space between eyes)
-broad neck
-short limbs
-cataracts
-sparse anterior scalp hair
-abnormal hands or feet
-permanent hearing/vision loss
-high, arched palate
-epilepsy
-congenital heart defects
-Gastroesophageal reflux disease
-hypo-pigmentation
-cognitive/developmental delays (retardation)
-Diaphragmatic Hernia

Now, obviously Charlotte had a lot going on. As it turns out she had most of the above (look at her hair again, see how far back it wasn't growing?) Some are hard to tell because she would have had to live for us to see if she had them (i.e. autism, epilepsy, vision loss). With everything she had, she just couldn't do it. And even if she lived, that wouldn't be a life.

This syndrome is deadly and then you add the hernia and it just wasn't survivable. On one of the websites for PKS it says "Prognosis is usually poor. Death is often due to Diaphragmatic Hernia". Just from reading what I can find online, which isn't much, she never had a chance. Talk about dramatic. This girl knew she wasn't going to stay so she decided to take on everything she possibly could while she was here. Like I said, amazing.

Hearing all of this from Dr. Fung really relieved a lot of worry and doubt. I had been wondering if we had done the right thing. What if I had gone in sooner and caught it earlier? What if we kept her on life support? Would she have lived? The answer is, an agonizing no.

For some reason only known to God, she isn't supposed to be here. As I'm typing this, I actually remember feeling the acceptance stage before the anger and grief stage with Conor. This is familiar.

So I've had the first part of this post waiting to be finished for weeks now. They say "Time heals all wounds" and I guess whoever wrote that never lost a baby.

Leaving the hospital with flowers in my arms instead of my baby was probably the most devastated I've ever been. I'd never literally felt my heart shattered until that day. It broke in pieces after we lost Conor and somehow I was able to put them loosely back together but losing Charlotte completely shattered the broken pieces I had left. Everyone was just looking at me as we walked by and I couldn't even fake a smile. I wanted to either cry or yell and tell them to stop looking at me.

I've been feeling so empty lately. My arms have been literally aching. I wish I was sleep deprived from waking up every hour of the night with her, instead I'm sleep deprived because I can't stop thinking about the night we lost her. I wish so badly I could wrap her in a blanket and snuggle her on my chest. That I could smell her sweet baby breathe. I wish I could gently kiss her soft cheeks just one more time. That she could hold on to my finger with her tiny delicate hands. That I could twirl her coarse brown hair through my fingers. That I could dress her up in the adorable pink outfits I bought her. I wish I could hear her cry. I wish she was in the bassinet next to my bed. I wish I could hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. I wish I could do that completely traumatic night all over just to hold her and tell her I love her again.

I should be overwhelmed by her. I should be desperately trying to figure out her sleep pattern and complaining about how tired I am. I should be taking her to the store and letting everyone "ooh" and "awe" at her. I should be feeling completely alone while nursing her in the middle of the night. I should be changing her outfit 100 times a day and doing laundry every hour. I should have little pink bows to place on her beautiful brunette hair. I should be posting way too many pictures of her on Facebook. I should be watching her grow.

 Instead I wake up every morning to a beautiful little boy and we play. I sit with him while he plays and I daydream. I dream about what I should be doing. I think about how much I want her. About how much she should be here. I think about what her and Owen would be like together. I think about getting after Owen for loving on her too much. I think about her safety next to him. I think about how overwhelmed I would be and how I'm not. I'm almost bored. Then reality slaps me and I realize this could be our life, our future. One sweet, sweet boy. One sweet, spoiled boy. And that's it. One.
 And two in Heaven.

I have this new perspective now. This perspective I've never known before. When I see the mom in the grocery store with one kid strapped to her chest and four in the cart, I see how overwhelmed and exhausted she is. I think about how much she needs a break. I think about how tired and lonely she must feel. Even though she is completely surrounded, she is lonely. I think about how she doesn't have any time for herself, how she wishes sometimes that she only had one kid, or rather about how easy it was with just one kid.  I think that she probably hasn't been on a date with just her husband in weeks if not months. And, I'm jealous. I'm envious, but also grateful that she doesn't have this perspective I have. Sometimes I wish she could though, just so she would be grateful for her five, beautiful, healthy kids. That she could see how blessed she really is. That she could remember, even on the hardest days, that she has kids. That even though they fight, they are alive. That even though they don't always listen, they love her. I've learned with this new perspective that you don't realize how blessed you are until it's gone. I've learned I have to count my blessings everyday or I will forget I have any. I'm not saying being a mom to five or three or even seven is easy. I can imagine it's actually extremely hard.  I'm just saying I think we should all take a second and count our blessings. Because I may look at her and wish that I had five healthy kids when others may look at me wish they had an honest, loving husband or a good, supportive family.

I keep getting told that this is the hardest thing they've seen anyone go through and that they don't know how I'm surviving. We all have crap but I can't tell you that mine is the hardest. It's the hardest for me and for Chris. But maybe your hardest trial is having five healthy kids. A dear friend of mine said that "No one gets the gold medal or the silver or bronze. We all have gold worthy trials". I guess what I'm saying is I miss my baby. And that hurts. I cry every time I talk about her. I wish so badly that she could have stayed with us. But I have Chris and I have Owen. And that's how I'm surviving. They are the reasons I am still trying.

Charlotte May Hendrickson June 5, 2015

I'm going to start by saying I'm on heavy doses of Lortab and Tylenol. I'm seriously having a hard time making complete sentences but I want this to be out so you know what happened. From the beginning of this journey, Chris and I have felt like this has been such a "team" trial. We've had so much support and so many prayers offered on our behalf and that it's such a devastation to everyone that this happened. You are my team and I want you to be in on everything.

I honestly can't believe I'm sitting down at the computer and starting to write this out, again. Trying to explain what just happened, again. Trying to find the words to describe accurately how I feel. So here's my best.

Thursday, June 4, 2015
I had felt her move very gently only three times on Wednesday so when I woke up on Thursday I went straight for the sugary cereal in hopes that would wake Charlotte up and get her moving. I ate and waited. I grabbed a cold water, drank half and laid down on my left side and waited. I started to panic so I dropped Owen off with Amanda and went in to the hospital.

They did a NST (Non Stress Test) and monitored her heart rate for about 40 minutes. Everything was fine. It was a little on the slow side but they figured that was because she was sleeping. I left feeling better but not completely satisfied. I still felt like something was wrong. I only remember feeling her move one or two more times the rest of the day.

Friday, June 5, 2015 
10:00am
I woke up and went for the cereal again but no movement. I tried pushing her around a little and nothing. It was my dad's birthday on Friday so we all (my family) met up for a surprise lunch for him. We got there and I still hadn't felt anything. I really tried to keep calm but I was getting really panicked. We finished eating, I left Owen with Amanda again and had my mom take me to the hospital to do another NST just to make sure, while my dad and Chris headed back to work. I knew she was still alive but I also knew something else was wrong.

12:00pm
The nurse took me back and put the monitors on to listen to Charlotte's heart. Within a few minutes we watched her heart rate drop from the 120's to the 80's. Before I could yell to the nurse that it looked a little to low she came running in. She said "Wait, let's watch it for a minute".

It dropped again. The nurse ran out and grabbed the closest doctor and had her look at it. Within a minute the doctor looked at me and said "This isn't good, we've got to get you to Labor and Delivery".

Right then I was scared but also so incredibly grateful I listened to my gut. I was proud that I finally listened to my body. I knew something was wrong and I didn't care if going in everyday that week made me look dumb.

The doctor grabbed my hand and said "It's going to get crazy, we are going to life flight you because you have to deliver her at the U. It's going to be very dramatic. You will most likely need an emergency c- section and there are going to be so many people around you. Take a breathe and let's do this".

They got me in a wheel chair and ran me up to L&D. The nurses up there must have not been informed because they were moving pretty slow and seemed like they didn't understand the severity of Charlotte's hernia. They started to check me in and had me put a gown on.

1:00pm 
 I remember going into the bathroom to change and getting on my knees to pray. I took the only opportunity I thought I would have to be alone. I hadn't lost all hope yet so I just prayed that it would work out. That this was just a minor problem. That she would recover from this. That she wouldn't be delivered today. That this wasn't fair. That I was suppose to have more time with her. That we had until July 9th or even June 17th. I prayed so hard. I prayed so hard it felt like I was yelling to Him in my head. Like, "Remember?! I thought we had a deal? I need her! You let me have time with her. I demand it..Okay I'm begging, let me have time with her. I can't do this again. Don't you dare make me do this again. I might hate you. I'm serious this time".


I pulled myself together and had mom call Chris. Luckily he only works a few blocks from the hospital so he was able to be there within a few minutes. They hooked up the monitors again and her heart rate would not stabilize. It kept dropping. Every time it came back up I thought "Okay, we got this, she can do this". And then it would drop lower than the time before and I felt such a deep desire for her to live. The deepest and hardest longing I've ever felt.

Then the most amazing thing happened, Dr. Anderson walked into my room. He just happened to be down in the lobby and saw me being rushed to L&D and followed. When he walked in, I lost it a little. A familiar face in this scary situation was so comforting. The life flight team came in and got me all bucked in. The rushed me out to the helicopter and I waved bye to Chris.

My mom was thinking and snapped some pictures before I took off.

 The helicopter flight was quick but her heart rate still would not stabilize. We landed about fifteen minutes later and they ran me down to L&D at the University. Several nurses and doctors came in, put the monitors back on and we all silently watched her heart rate drop. I remember a nurse asking the doctor if she was going to "Push the button" to which she replied "I'm pushing the button, get everyone in here now, we've got to get her out".

Someone came over with a consent paper and said "This is saying we can do an emergency c-section but once you sign it, it's going to get very scary. There are going to be a lot of people and lots of things going on. We usually try to wait for dad but we can't wait. Can you do this?". I signed right away, knowing Chris would not be there. Anything to save this girl. I would have gone to the end of the world. I wished it was me that needed this surgery. I wished it was me who needed to be saved. I wished.

After I signed it about twenty people came in all dressed in their operating room gear, ready to go. They ran me out and down the hall where I heard a woman giving birth, just screaming and yelling. It sounds like this came right out of a horror movie and let me tell you, it felt like it. Everything was so dramatic. Running, yelling, people everywhere hurrying to try and save my baby's life. It was surreal.

We got into the OR and they said "Sorry, we don't have time to give you any medication before the surgery, we just have to get her out. We'll put ya to sleep though". I think that didn't register in my brain. For some reason, going to sleep and not being in pain were one in the same. I promise you, they are not.

 This whole time I was talking to myself out loud, saying "People have emergency c-sections all the time, I can do this, This isn't scary". And when they said no pain meds, no spinal block, no epidural. What? How?

They moved my body over onto the cold operating table, ripped my gown off, spread my legs and shoved a catheter in, threw iodine and a tarp over me. It felt like there were at least 100 people in there and no one was talking to me . They were all talking fast and loud and I remember trying so hard to understand.. After they threw the tarp on me they started checking off the list of tools. I tried to hold my bravery in as long as could but that got me. I really thought they forgot to put me to sleep. As my arms were being strapped down I reached out to anyone and caught a nurse. She grabbed my hand and said "It's going to be okay". I wanted so badly for that to be reassuring but it wasn't.

I started to hyperventilate and cry. I asked if anyone could hear me and if they were going to put me to sleep. No one answered so I cried harder. I remember yelling "Please put me to sleep, I don't want to be here for this". Finally someone grabbed my head and said "I'm working on it I promise, it will be a minute, but we will put you to sleep".

Then I was asleep.

I woke up to Chris, my mom, sister and aunt. I also woke up in the worst pain of my entire life. They put me on Pitocin so my uterus would contract and I wouldn't bleed out. I was literally in labor after they took Charlotte and I had just been sewn up from a cesarean. In full blown labor without any pain medication. I remember thinking "Why would I be in labor right now? Didn't we get her out? Did we not do the c-section?" I was so confused. I remember yelling at the nurse to help me. To give me anything to stop the contractions or to just kill me. I couldn't even ask about Charlotte because I was in so much excruciating pain. In the middle of this, one of the NICU doctors came in and grabbed Chris to go see Charlotte. He came back with a picture and told me about her. She was stable as far as we knew.

4:00 pm 

My contractions started to die down and I started asking about Charlotte. I wanted to know how she was, where she was, how big she was, everything. 

The NICU doctor came in and told us that when they did the c-section, they couldn't get her out. They had to make an even bigger incision and still couldn't. I had so much fluid it was hard to get to her, so they cut my uterus vertically (which means now I will always have c-sections). She said that she was so hard to get out because she was floppy. She wasn't rigid like a normal baby because she didn't have a heart beat. She was dead. 

The finally got her out and were able to revive her but she said because it took them time, they weren't sure how much oxygen, if any, had gotten to her brain. In other words, she wasn't going to survive. No matter what. No matter the surgery, no matter the medication, she wasn't going to make it. 

So we asked to see her and be with her until she did leave us. 

Everyone up there was so kind. They wheeled my huge hospital bed into the NICU right up next to Charlotte's. She looked awful. So lifeless. I felt my heart break. I feel like it was still trying to heal from losing Conor and then it just shattered all over again. 

But look at that hair. Oh my gosh.

And then the most beautiful thing happened. My dad and Chris gave her a name and blessing. It was beautiful. Everyone in the room had tears in their eyes. We wanted this girl. We wanted her so bad. I was so grateful my dad was there to do this. It's extremely hard to express in words the feelings of that moment. Sacred. 

Chris held her for several hours while she was alive on the ventilator. I asked him at one point if we should get her cleaned up and he told me no. He didn't want to let her go. My heart shattered even more. Just when I thought it couldn't.

The longer we held her the worse her vitals got. She was trying so hard to live but she just couldn't. Everything just kept getting worse. She had been sedated as soon as she was born but we didn't want her to suffer any longer than she had to. They told me she wasn't in any pain but it was hard for me to believe that. I hated seeing her on the ventilator. It wasn't right. It wasn't normal. She deserved so much better. 

As soon as we knew she wasn't going to make it one of the NICU nurses was trying to get a hold of a company that takes pictures. I'm not sure how to nicely word "pictures of dead babies".. But she couldn't get a hold of anyone in the county. Around ten she found a lady from Ogden (Stacy) who was willing to drive all the way down and take these pictures. We waited until she got there to take Charlotte off the ventilator because I wanted her to look as alive as possible for the pictures. 

Again, I can't even describe the feelings of taking your baby away from life. My body physically hurting from making that decision. When I said that I had never been in so much pain in my life, I wasn't lying but this, this hurt even more. We knew her little body was going to give in very soon and we wanted to let her go before her body decided to. I didn't want to watch her struggle or suffer. It was unbearable. It was torture. 

Around 11 pm we decided it was time. Her vitals were dropping rapidly and we knew her purpose here on Earth had been filled. She was ready. I wasn't, Chris wasn't, but we both felt strongly that she was. 

They pulled the ventilator out and within a few minutes she was gone. I felt her leave. I felt her spirit leave. Typing this, I wish so badly I could go back. I wish that I could redo that all over again just to be there with her. To kiss her sweet cheeks one more time. To smell her hair one more time. To hold her little fingers one more time. It went too fast. I didn't get enough time.   

Stacy took her away to take pictures and she must have gotten at least a thousand because she had her for about an hour. Everyone in the NICU just sobbed. Chris and I just held each other and cried. The nurses, our family, everyone there just cried. It was so quiet in that room. No one said a word, we just cried. 

About an hour later Stacy came back and gave her to me. At this point Chris and I just wanted to be alone with her so they wheeled me to a new room in the Womens Special Care, where I wouldn't have to listen to new babies crying all night long. We held her from about midnight until 2:30. The nurse came and took her away when we were done and that was it. 

Obviously Chris nor I slept well that night. We fell asleep crying and woke up crying. The doctor said I would need to stay for at least three nights and I did. The nurses were amazing and everyone was so kind but I still was in a hospital without my new baby. My family stayed with me a lot. Chris stayed the first night but we decided he needed to be with Owen more so he left the next day. The following morning my mom brought Owen up so he could see me. He asked a lot of questions like where Charlotte was. Once again, my heart felt shattered. I didn't know how to tell him she was gone. I told him she was with Conor and Jesus. He responded with "Oh and she's coming back?"

The next two days were rough. Luckily I had lots of family and friends come visit to keep my mind off of things, as much as it could. Sunday came around and we were talking about going home. I had been able to get up and walk around pretty well so my doctors were okay with sending me home. We had the discharge papers all signed, I stood up to go and I started seeing black dots all over. I sat down and then felt like either I was falling over or the room was. The nurse came in to check on me, I told her I was seriously dizzy and she told me she was going to check my blood levels. 

She did and it came back that I needed a blood transfusion. Great. I was not leaving. So we did that and I still wasn't feeling any better. They checked my blood again and it had only gone up one point so we did a second unit of blood. After all of that, I started to feel better and we got to go home. 

Here is one of the pictures Stacy took. Obviously little miss had some kind of syndrome that we didn't even know about. I think they ruled out Downs but she had something else. The hospital asked if they could do an autopsy because of her defect and hernia for research. They wanted to do a placental autopsy also to see why she wasn't getting enough oxygen because they think she hadn't been getting enough for a few days. Which lines up perfectly with my feeling of something being wrong. We told the hospital of course. Letting them do that autopsy might help a future family. 

This makes her even more perfect to me. I wish I could have her even more. She is perfect. 

So now, we are planning a funeral. 

Again.

But this time is so much more heartbreaking. We hoped for her. We prayed for her. We really thought she would make it. It seemed like every appointment wasn't good news but it wasn't bad. So we had hope. Hope can do amazing things to a person. 

Today I picked out her burial plot, only three feet away from Conor. 

We are having a very short graveside service for her on Friday and we want you to come. We have felt from the beginning of this journey that we were not alone. We have had so many prayers sent our way for her. We have been on this journey with a team and we want to give you an opportunity to grieve with us. I felt like, after she died, it was such a devastation not only to us but to everyone who had been working so hard to ask Heavenly Father for her life. For everyone who helped us ask for a miracle. 

Graveside for Charlotte

Friday the 12th

 Provo Cemetery at 10am.

 There are several more posts about her coming but I'm just trying to make it to the funeral.