My name is Erika, I’m a mom to a six yr old boy, and mom to a sweet angel in Heaven since May of this yr. Little story with my six yr old, when I got pregnant with him everything was going good, up until about 29 weeks pregnant, one day I started having contractions, went to the ER, they moved me to labor & delivery. Where they were able to stop contractions. Few weeks later at 35 weeks, I get induced due to my preclampsia and hypertension. And I delivered a healthy preemie baby.
Six years later, my husband and I decide to give our son a sibling and I got pregnant again with our second child. Everything was going fine, other then being nauseous 24/7. Up until about 15 weeks pregnant, one morning I woke up feeling dizzy and light headed, didn’t think much of it, but I decide to stay home all day just to be safe.
Next day I start to cramp a little, didn’t think nothing serious because, there wasn’t any bleeding, as the day goes on, the cramping wasn’t going away, so my husband drives me to the ER, where I go in complaining of abdominal cramping, they run tests on me, they only see a bladder infection, they give me a antibiotic and the rhogam shot, because of my blood type being RH ngative. They check my baby and they tell me he’s okay and I get released five hours later. So I get home, and later that night the cramping is getting stronger, it suddenly doesn’t feel like cramping anymore, but more like contractions, just the same as with my first pregnancy. So my husband drives me again to the ER, for the second time. Were this time I go in complaining of having contractions every 2-3 min. Because I had been keeping track and taking notes.
They don’t take me to Labor & Delivery, because they tell me I’m only 15 weeks pregnant, they only give another antibiotic for the bladder infection, they check my baby again, they tell me he’s okay and I get released. I go back home, that night I didn’t sleep at all, I had contractions all night, the next day my water breaks and my mother got to hold my precious 15 week old baby in her hands, who was still attatched from the umbilical cord as I lay in bed crying in shock and in disbelief at what had just happened.
The ambulance arrives and they take me to the hospital once again I go. This time they now do take me up stairs to Labor & Delivery. While I was up there, our son was baptized and we name him Lorenzo. The sweet nurse made a mold of his tiny 6” inch body for us to keep and took fingerprints of his tiny hands and feet. Were on one foot we realized that there is heart inside it. At that moment we cried, and we knew it was him, we knew he had left his heart here with us. He really is our little miracle, our Angel in Heaven. While I was still in Labor & Delivery I find out by the nurses that the ER never called them, they weren’t aware a pregnant woman, was downstairs they never knew I went not once, but twice to the ER. They never received a call.
Two weeks later the Doctor who took care of me when I miscarried told me that the ER also never called a obgyn to come down stairs to check a pregnant woman who was there complaining of contractions.
She also told me that they don’t really have a answer as to why I lost my son, because everything was normal with my baby and I. And they classify it as a “spontaneous miscarriage” at 15 weeks, with a history of “preterm labor” and a history of “cervical incompetence”. Something I knew nothing about and wasn’t aware of, until after loosing my son.
After his passing, I tried to educate my self a little more on those topics and what it meant. And I realized that the both times I went to the ER they never checked my cervix, they never performed a pelvic exam on me. I don’t know if by doing that, it would of made a difference and if it would had a different outcome for my son and I. I guess I’ll never know. I sometimes feel guilty, for not knowing none of the stuff I now. For not knowing enough, for being so naive. For thinking that as long as my baby was okay everything else was going to be okay. That hearing the words “your baby is fine” were enough, that it meant the pain was going to stop at some point, and that we were really going to be okay.
I sometimes blame my self, for not knowing all that I know now, for not knowing enough. It’s been now three months, since my son left this earth. Three months of crying, of hurting, of sadness, of emptiness, of aching, of grieving, of sometimes feeling resentful with the ER. I feel like they could of maybe done a little more for my baby and I. I feel like I wasn’t taken seriously, like my symptoms weren’t taken seriously, especially the last night I went complaining of having contractions.
I sometimes think about what happened and I simply cannot understand how a hospital lets a pregnant woman who is having contractions go home. But I have slowly learned to leave all things to God. He’s the only one who has all the answers to my questions. The Lord has been my shelter during this time, He is my Strength, my Hope, my Rock. And knowing that my son is with Him, gives comfort to my broken and grieving heart. Right now I’m focusing on what’s important to me, my son, my family, my faith, myself and protecting my pain in any way I can. I hope that one day I can be a mother again for the third time.
“And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast” -Peter 5:10
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” -Isaiah 40:31
Photos taken by Fanny’s Photography.
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