It all started just before Christmas in 2013. I noticed that I had been having nausea in the morning and only crackers made me feel better. Every time I brushed my teeth, I dry-heaved nearly to the point of puking. I even got sick on some homeless guy panhandling for money at the grocery store parking lot on Christmas morning. He was asking for $2 for the bus and I was trying to hurry up and get in my car to get away from the overwhelming smells at the grocery store. I knew something was up, however, when at the movie theater, a few nights later, when I got sick from the smell of popcorn. I finally took a test and was shocked to learn that I was pregnant.
Due to having PCOS, being overweight, and being on birth control to control the PCOS, I had always been told I could not get pregnant. Here I was, though, 37 and pregnant and I was over the moon! I had been with a guy for years who had children that I was helping to raise but had not achieved having a child of my own – which I desperately wanted. I had recently had some medical issues, which caused a drastic weight loss and my doctor thought that was perhaps what aided in the pregnancy. Whatever the reason for the monumental event, I was ecstatic.
Pregnancy was new to me. I had been through it with others in my life, but now I was experiencing everything myself. The morning sickness – which was not compartmented to just the morning, the smells of foods causing me to be sick, the changes in my body, and other things that come with pregnancy. I was due in August of 2014 and started doing what expectant mothers do. I started buying clothes, a baby registry, thinking of setting up the nursery, and preparing to be gone long-term from work.
In March of 2014, I started talking to my friends about a baby shower. My husband’s kids were older, so we didn’t have any ‘baby’ stuff left. We had to start over but were excited. I was thinking of the awesome things that I had done with other baby showers that I had helped with or planned and what I wanted to have at mine.
Then, on March 20th, the unthinkable happened. I had not been able to sleep all night. The baby was rolling over and over and I was seriously uncomfortable. I started walking to the bathroom and realized that I had not made it. I could tell I was seriously in trouble. I woke up my husband and begged him to take me to the hospital. The drive to the hospital was silent and fast. My husband ran every red light, honking if there was traffic and driving through the night at break-neck speed.
When we arrived at the hospital, it was the same hospital my mom had worked at for 25 years. It was the same floor she worked at for 20 years. Some of the nurses there knew me and when I came into the ward, I was a wreck and nervous. I had no clue what was going on and I was in tears. The nurses were caring towards me and helped me but when my doctor finally arrived at 9am, she confirmed what I was most fearful of – this pregnancy was not going to end well. That was the exact term my doctor had told me… “this pregnancy is not going to end well.” I was devastated – beyond devastated and felt very alone – despite my husband and my best friend being right next to me.
At 2:20pm on March 20, 2014, my precious Angel Kristina Dawn was born sleeping. She was 10oz and less than a foot long. When they placed her in my arms, after dressing her in a beautiful white gown, I stroked her beautiful black hair and cried apologizing for not being able to be her mom. I prayed to God and the angels that had gone before me begging them to take care of my angel. I placed a purple plastic butterfly barrette that I had carried with me in my purse for a while in her tiny arms.
The local funeral home and cemetery that helps parents like me came and took my angel and helped me plan the funeral. We had a small service of family and friends for our angel. My uncle flew my mom out to be with me. Two men who had been like father-figures in my life carried her small casket to the resting place. My family rallied around me as I became one in four women to lose a child. The TEARS foundation sponsored her headstone. My co-workers were awesome when I came back to work letting me ease back into my job with little interruptions.
Unfortunately, the loss of my daughter was too great and caused a huge wedge to form between my husband and me. We had been having marital problems for a few years but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back in my relationship with my husband. In less than a year, the church I had attended for other 30 years closed due to lack of attendance, my relationship with my husband broke and I lost my precious angel. I was a wreck, beyond all belief and I was mad. I was mad at the situation. I was mad at myself for not making things work. I was mad at God for letting any of this happen to me. I was mad and resented anything, everything, anybody and everybody in my life. I wanted nothing to do with anything but I still had a duty to myself, my family, and my job.
I could not get my counselor or my doctor to prescribe me medication to help with the depression. Nobody believed I was depressed because I was still going to church, work, and other activities. Nobody believe I was having issues because I seemed ‘normal’. I was not though. The thoughts of self-harm were in my daily life. Quite a few times, I had even drank a half-bottle of Nyquil hoping that I would fall asleep forever, and was upset when I woke up the next month.
Christmas of 2015, everything was over and I made a choice to start my life anew. My mom had been visiting for the holidays and I told her what my plans were. On New Year’s Eve, I dropped my mom off at the airport and came back to the house where my friends were waiting to help me move my belongings. I had rented a room and was moving in with some friends from college. I had to start over again with my life and I didn’t know where to begin. I took a lot of time introspecting with myself.
One of my favorite things to do was going on walks at a local neighborhood park and began trying to figure out what I wanted to do with myself. My plan was to start working on myself and my relationship with myself – to get over the terrible situation that had happened and thrive in ways that I had only imagined. It was ironic that once I made that plan, God started putting people and events in my life that would help me achieve those goals.
Mid-January, I finally got my doctor to prescribe me a low dose of anti-depressants, after having to have a friend come into the doctor’s office with me to tell the Doctor what I was like in ‘real-life'. “She’s like a zombie.” He told her. “She goes through her daily life but you can tell that she has thoughts that are dark.” He then went on to tell her that I had been talking about harming myself – something that I had shared with him in confidence. The doctor agreed on the dose, only if I got a gym membership. I was still overweight and of course as a large-bodied person, at risk for multiple hereditary health issues. I agreed and immediately, after my appointment, went to my local gym and signed up for a membership.
Aqua aerobics was my favorite class and I was attending class 5-6 times a week at the two gyms in my area. I re-built close relationships with my friends that through my married life had fallen back. These were the people who were here for me now. These were the people that were helping me through this time. These were the people that reminded me that I am loved and valued through all of the bad times in my life.
In August of 2016, one of the instructors of the aqua class didn’t show up and I jumped out of the pool and started teaching the class. I got a call the next day telling me that members aren’t supposed to get out of the pool to teach the class but did I want a job? I informed the lady on the phone that I already had a full-time job to which she retorted that it would only be 3 nights a week for an hour each. I then told her that nobody wanted to see me – a large-bodied lady – teaching on the deck of the pool. She retorted with ‘actually, you are exactly what I would love to have on the deck of the pool teaching – To show others who are larger-bodied that they too can be active and mobile. I applied for the job and was offered a position teaching 3 nights a week on-the-spot of my interview.
Thus began my journey into recovery, fitness, and helping others and thus continued my healing. I continued with growing in my life. I continued to heal understanding that I had been through painful times and was able to come through those storms in my life. I still have issues with losing Kristina Dawn – I miss my girl every single day. I talk to her and to my family that is taking care of her knowing that they are watching over her and me. I use the experience, now, as a way of helping others. I would not wish the experience on even my worst enemy but I am able to talk to others who have been through a similar experience. I am able to listen, share and grieve with them, knowing what they are going through. I am able to be there as a resource for something that others in their lives think they understand but really don’t know anything about unless they themselves have been through it. I am there for the sisters, friends, and others that have family members that are going through the storm, helping them to say the right words – or in some cases just say nothing at all but be there for them. I am able to help them grow and while I will never understand their exact situation, or the reasons for mine even, I can be there to help. I can be there as a shoulder to cry on. I can be there as someone to knows the feelings of loss, despair, and helplessness. I can be there for them to know that they are not alone.
I know that feeling of loneliness, helplessness, and grief. I know how it feels to see a young girl with their mother and wonder if I would have that kind of relationship with Kristina. I know what it’s like to see another year go by and not have my baby girl there with me to celebrate a milestone in her life. I know the pain of not seeing her every day.
How does one heal from this? It’s always there with you. I find joy in the little things though. Each year I raise money for the local TEARS Foundation Rock and Walk – so that they can help another family the way that TEARS has helped me. On Kristina’s birthday, go to the local Safeway and pay for a cake that has been ordered for another small child’s birthday. I include a gift card for Build-A-Bear – because that would’ve been Kristina’s favorite store – with a note letting the family know that I am celebrating with them. At Christmas time, I adopt children from the local giving tree at Christmas time, providing cheer to children who might not be fortunate to have a merry Christmas. When I see a mother enjoying a meal out with a young child, I anonymously pay for their meal. It’s the joy that I find in the little things.
Will I ever be 100% healed from the tragedy? Not until my daughter is in my arms again and I can wrap her up in my huge embrace and hold her near. What I can do, right now, here on earth, is provide my story to others so that they too can understand – You are not alone. You are grieving and that is okay. You are worthy and beautiful. You are going to be okay! It doesn’t happen overnight but little by little each day, you will find joy in the little things and you WILL find ways to honor your beautiful baby who was too precious to hold on earth and is being cared for by those angels that went before your baby.
Wow! This is an amazing story, I am so touched!