Marshall Jacob Schaeffer's Story
We finally got an appointment with a dr. that delivered at the hospital I had to go to, and on March 28th, we made the trek to the hospital. We had to check into labor and delivery, and I sat in the little lobby while a really pregnant lady in a bubble gum colored shirt checked in to have a c section. I hated her. I hated her husband. He kept looking at our tear soaked faces as if to say "What is YOUR problem?". But we sat until the nurse came to get me. It was then that I wanted to run. I stopped, and DH tried to lead me through the double doors. In my mind, if I didn't go with them, then this wasn't real. But it was. Very real.
I had to walk past the nursery, but out of respect, they'd closed the blinds and closed the doors so I didn't have to see/hear babies. We were separated from all the other mommies on l/d, and our door had a wonderful sign on it that let everyone know that we were losing a baby. We were SO blessed in that way. We walked in, and the nurse left to get paperwork. I flew into a blind rage and threw the magazines in the room, and I cried. I was NOT going to put the gown on. NO! NO! NO! But DH prevailed, and I got dressed and ready. The medication was inserted.
The next two days passed in a blur of great meds and quiet movies with DH. We cried together, and DH and I prayed for our baby. At 4:50 in the morning, March 30, 2008, my water broke. I was petrified. It was going to be over soon. At 5:02, with DH and a nurse by my side, our first son, Marshall Jacob, was quietly born. He was all of 3.35 ounces and 6 inches, but he was the exact image of my husband. I was devastated. I finally gave my husband a son, his exact double, and I failed him. My body failed him.
We didn't want an autopsy done because we didn't want anything else to happen to him. He'd been through enough in his young life. He was perfect, and we wanted him to remain untouched.
Marshall was cremated, and so far, remains at home with us. He is our first son. And, he is the big brother to another angel.
Jonah Michael Schaeffer's Story
We struggled to move on. The grief seemed insurmountable, and soon I was hungering for another baby. I worked past the feeling of wanting to replace Marshall, and grew to genuinely want another baby. We struggled to get pregnant again, and gave up.
I am a teacher, and noticed that in December 2008, 3/5 of my students were out with the flu. So it really didn't phase me when I came down with symptoms. DH held my face one day when I came home early and said "You're pregnant". Sure enough, he was right!
I had to switch OB's, and from the get go, things weren't right with the dr. This was my 5th pregnancy, and I know what happens when. The dr. wouldn't order the first trimester blood draws till I was 12 weeks. I questioned this given our loss of Marshall (we never found out why he died). I chose to switch drs. It took that office 4 weeks to get my paperwork so I could switch drs. I finally got to see my new dro. when I was 17 weeks along! We rushed to get the bloodwork and screenings done before time ran out.
I was at work when the dr. called. This dr. had delivered our first and second daughters, and I adored him, so I knew when he called there was something wrong. He said that my AFP levels showed a risk for down's and neural tube defects. Down's was something like 1:72, but NTD was 1:34. My heart sunk into my toes and I stopped breathing. I rushed home to work the phones to get the level 2 u/s asap.
I bawled on the phone with the office manager at the OB office, and she got me in the next day. I spent that night searching the internet, but found too many stories of women discouraging the testing. The stories I found with odds like mine were devastating...something was wrong with the baby. I started to put it into my head that this might not end well. But Joe and I reasoned that we'd paid our dues...certainly we wouldn't lose another baby.
We were eventually called back to the u/s room the next morning. The tech showed us the baby's spine, feet, and hands. She said the dr. would be there in a few minutes. When she left, we laughed about our little alien, who was practically perfect, but at 20 weeks, still had that alien appearance. The dr. came in, shook our hands, and got to work.
The room fell silent. "In the world of neural tube defects, we have a spectrum. Some people have spina bifida and don't know it. At the other end of the spectrum is anencephaly". WHAT? I heard every other word. "Neural tube not closed" "fatal" "dying" were among some of the words I heard before absolutely losing it. The dr. and tech let me get dressed and led me to a room where we could start digesting what we just learned, and get information.
An hour and a half later, I agreed to an amnio. I needed to know what was going on. And, when the baby was born, he would not be subjected to an autopsy either. (We still didn't know if he was a boy or girl). While we were prepping for the amnio, the dr. noticed a significant lowering of the baby's heart rate and motions. He also noted significant swelling in my hands, which I'd not paid attention to before. The process began, and when they were finally able to draw back fluid, the dr. sighed and said 'oh no". The amniotic fluid was blood red...this was just not good.
The dr. weighed in with his opinion when asked what we should do. He was pro life as well, also a Catholic, and the father to a child with severe autism. However, he expressed concern that the baby was NOT doing well, and told DH that I wasn't either.
We went to Church. Our priest had just returned from saying rosaries at the local abortion clinic, which just devastated me all over again. But instead of judgment, we found support. Unconditional, loving support. We left with lighter hearts, and picked out an urn. One way or the other, we would be bringing home another little baby in an urn.
We went home, discussed our options, and decided to meet with the OB the next day. The OB said he'd stand behind our decision, but urged me to think about my children at home and my husband. The baby's heartrate was dropping, and my swelling had significantly increased since the day before.
We decided that as long as no disfiguring or harming of the baby's self was involved, we would induce. The dr. supported this decision, but said that our case had to be turned over to the termination of pregnancy board at the hospital, and that could take a few days. I was booked for daily appointments to check the swelling, and sent on our prayerful way. Twenty minutes later, we were called to the hospital. Based on the numbers the board saw, we needed to get started to stop any further side effects to me. By the time we got to the hospital, my bp was high, and I was barefoot from the swelling.
It felt like deja vu. I again didn't want to change. I again felt horrible. But this time, I also felt like an executioner. I was given a relaxer and allowed to pray with the hospital Chaplain as we started the meds.
On April 26, 2009, the dr. came in to examine me because the baby hadn't come after nearly 3 days of labor. Our baby had slipped out of my uterus and into my vagina. The dr., her intern, and a nurse worked to get the baby out. At 9:10, we were told "it's a boy". Again, I was given a little boy, and my body betrayed him.
Where I Am Now
My family has suffered significantly. My daughters have known too much death, but are receiving a lot of help. They are waiting for the arrival of their very healthy, very unplanned, but very loved baby sister. We are due, on Jonah's due date nonetheless, with another girl. This time I am sure she's coming home.
But just because we can see the rainbow doesn't mean we'll forget the storm. Our boys are very much a part of our lives. Our happiness at being their family is intertwined with the sadness of missing them. We strive to keep friends and family from forgetting that our little boys might not have been here long, but they were here and that they are so very loved.
No, this isn't the image I thought of as a daydreaming 8 year old. But it is my reality.
