Hello, I wanted to share our story about our babies that had to go to Heaven too soon. First, I’d like to talk about Cellise. She is the daughter of my husband, Jeff, and his ex-wife. My husband worked the graveyard shift when she was about 10 weeks old. When he came back home from his shift around 6 am, he saw that his ex-wife and his daughter were lying down sleeping, and when he went to pick up his daughter to feed her, she was lifeless; he tried to do CPR as an ambulance were on their way, but when they got to the hospital, it was confirmed that she passed away from SIDS. Cellise would have been 19 years old on Febuary 27th. She has always been a big part of our family, and we always include her in any way we can. They did have a rainbow baby of their own, their son Landyn, who is now 16 years old and is the most incredible kid a parent could ask for. I am so blessed to call him my stepson.
Jeff and I met in 2017, and we married in Yosemite in January 2023. Shortly after, we decided to start growing a family. About a month later, I was experiencing extreme cramping. I have a history of intense period cramps, but this was a little different—no Motrin, baths, or anything that I typically did seemed to work. One night, I woke up, and the pain was so unbearable I ran into the shower and put it in the hottest setting that I could handle. I was crying, and I woke up my husband. I was at a loss for what to do, so the following day, I went to the emergency room. I figured I had endometriosis or something related to that. The nurse informed me I was pregnant. The doctor told me that I could’ve possibly been having an ectopic pregnancy, but the baby pushed through to the correct area. Now that I have given birth, I can compare those cramps to actual contractions because I felt them coming like waves, but they lasted way longer than the typical contraction would last. A few weeks later, the ‘cramping’ stopped.
The rest of the pregnancy was flawless. I never had any of the typical symptoms of pregnancy. We found out we were having a boy and named him Noah. When I was 38 weeks pregnant, I went for an anatomy scan. The technician was pretty quiet, and she informed me that my son’s femur was small and sent me upstairs to do an NST. This was my first pregnancy, so I had no idea what was happening or what they were planning. I thought this was a routine procedure.
A nurse came in and said that she wanted to induce, but she never really gave me a good reason other than that his femur was small. Since I am a small person, shorter than 5 feet, I figured he might be small too, as I have a family history of tiny babies. I declined the induction, and I went home. I had planned on doing a natural homebirth with a midwife. At exactly 41 weeks, which was May 16, 2024, I started going into labor, and the living room was set up for me, my husband, his mother, my mother, and our midwives were there. Everything was going fine until the very end. My water didn’t break, and my bladder was full. He was stuck, so my midwife ended up breaking my water, and he came with full force, but still stuck, and his heart rate started fluctuating, so they took me out of the pool and onto the ground, and at that moment, I swelled up like a balloon. My eyes were swollen shut, and I couldn’t see. My husband and mother were arguing about whether we should call the ambulance, and eventually, my midwife called 911. Then, suddenly, my living room was full of first responder men. They were also in the middle of training, so there was no room for my husband or the midwife to go onto the bus with me. It was terrifying because I felt myself going in and out of consciousness, and I remember as they wheeled me to the bus, I looked up to the sky with my cactus in the background and just said, “Please just give me strength to push my son out.” In the ambulance, there were nothing but men trying to coach me, but it was so scary because they were also in the middle of training, and I heard one of them say, “So what happens when the baby comes out?” And that terrified me, so I just went further into myself and just focused on me and my son, and when I pushed him out, that’s when I realized I was actually at the hospital.
I wanted to reach for him, but the doctors took him away, and I heard my midwife’s voice saying talk to your son. Tell him that you’re here and that you love him. I didn’t hear him cry. My eyes were swollen shut, so I couldn’t see what was happening. At that moment, my husband walked into the room and saw them intubate our son, Noah. The doctors took him to the NICU right away. A little while later, they wheeled him back in, and he was in a NICU bed. I was finally able to see him and touch him. Honestly, I thought everything would be OK since I knew many NICU babies that just needed a little extra help and then would come home, so I wasn’t as worried as I should’ve been. The doctor later came in and told me the severity of his situation and that he needed to go to a different hospital so they could treat him with better specialists in hospital equipment. I didn’t want to be separated from him, but they had to take him. The next day, when I was discharged from where I delivered, we went straight to the specialized hospital. I could see him in the NICU and be with him again, holding on to hope. I never felt the love I felt for anyone like I did for my son then. The specialist called a meeting, and we sat in the conference room. They showed us X-rays and MRIs of our son’s brain; they explained that our brains look like walnuts. His brain was completely flat. I would find out later that I had placental insufficiency; it aged too fast and was small. My cord developed platelets, preventing blood and oxygen from going to my son. They informed me that it wasn’t my fault and there was nothing I could’ve done to avoid it. Even if I did induce when they recommended, he wouldn’t have survived as the placenta stopped working at the beginning of the third trimester.
I decided to baptize him in the NICU, which was the one time he opened his eyes. We invited all of our friends and family to see him at the hospital so that he could feel the love that he would’ve had if he were to live. We had so many people in the lobby that they kept moving us to bigger and bigger rooms and put more people on staff to keep track of all the visitors. On the 18th, I noticed his color started changing, and his heart rate was fluctuating, and I knew that I had to let him go. So, I kicked everyone out except for my husband and my stepson. The doctors came in and took out his life support. And we held him, loved on him, and sang to him until he passed away in my arms. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. We were able to spend time with him even after he passed away, and I was able to be with him in the hospital one more night.
The next day, we decided to go to the beach. It was on a Sunday in May in San Diego, so I knew it would be packed with families. I didn’t know how I would react. Still, we went anyway, and there were a lot of families and a lot of little boys. Instead of feeling sad, I felt Noah’s energy around me. I felt close to him.
A few days after he passed away, as I was trying to cope with reality, my mom came over and took her grief out on my husband in a very disrespectful way. It was like a bomb went off in my family. We were such a close, tight-knit family, but since that happened, we haven’t been close at all. It’s so hard when I join support groups and see all the moms who have been the most significant support system for their daughters during their losses.
Every 16th of the month, we do something to celebrate Noah. On his third month, we decided to go kayaking in the ocean and lay out flowers while listening to the song we had made for him. But before we went, I felt something was a little off on my body, so on a whim, I bought a pregnancy test, and that test became a positive pregnancy test. I’m not gonna lie; it was a whiplash moment. I was so happy but so sad all at the same time. I told the boys that day, and we were all shocked but excited. This pregnancy is completely different than my first pregnancy. I didn’t experience pains, but I did get all the typical pregnancy symptoms. And we found out we were having a girl, we named her Sylene. A little rainbow baby is coming, and I believe Noah and Cellise sent her to us. I am considered a high-risk pregnancy, so they’re doing a lot more tests than they ever did with my first pregnancy. It’s still extremely scary and stressful, but I’m still holding on to hope. She’s due April 20th, and we are just praying for a healthy and happy baby. She saved my life because I can’t just wallow in grief. After all, this is not my body but a home for her, and I must ensure she stays healthy. Jeff and I take it day by day. We have good and bad days, but we still stick together no matter what. I know the story was long, but I wanted to include everything to honor their memory. Your rainbow skirt is a beautiful testament to our babies, and I thank you for allowing everyone to use it. It’s such a lovely, magnificent gift you provide for lost moms. Thank you!!
Photos taken by
Find out more about Project Finding Your Rainbow.
Make sure to follow Journey For Jasmine on Instagram and Facebook!
Pin and help spread the project!
