Sharing our Stories

Jenn - posted on 10/16/2008 ( 4 moms have responded )

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Sharing a bit of my life

Madison Grace Stocks
June 4th 1999 - October 8th 2000

In 1998 I met the man of my dreams, well so I thought. We were in college and clicked immediately, and I couldn't have been happier. We did everything together, as young couples do, and even talked about marriage. I felt like I was making leaps and bounds as I was entering my "adult" life. Then, I got pregnant and he dumped me as fast as he could. In an instant my world changed forever. I was devastated about losing him and I was confused about what to do about my pregnancy. Thankfully I have a very supportive family, and my parents and sister helped me transition through the emotional days that laid ahead of me. I think after three or four days of crying I came to a conclusion, I was going to keep my baby and raise her by myself. Her father already had made it clear that he didn't want it by telling me to get an abortion or put it up for adoption, so in the mists of this emotional epiphany I made one of the hardest decisions that I have ever had to make. I told him my plan and set my boundary. I was going to do it alone, and I wasn't going to ask for his help. It was my decision and I am taking full responsibility. BUT, if he ever wanted to be a part of her life I would never deny him that, but he would have to prove to me that he was ready and that he would never back out. Upon digesting my proposition he packed up and moved from Vermont to Minnesota (No, I'm not kidding).

I continued with college and my job. I think I was three months into my pregnancy went I met my current husband. We worked together and he spilled his heart out one afternoon about this crush that he had had on me for quite some time, and how he couldn't believe how my "ex" could just pack up and go, and then he asked me out. I guess the rest is history in that respect. We have been together for almost 9 years now. (Yes, I'm not quite 30 yet.) Anyway, he stood by me through my pregnancy, he was there in the OR b/c I had to have a c-section, and he basically moved in as soon as the baby was born. She was his daughter. We made it work. We both continued with school full time, and I also worked full time on the weekends. I'm proud to say that I was able to make ends meet without using government assistance outside of Medicaid for her insurance.

When Madison turned 6 months old, Morgan her bio-dad, came home. He wanted to meet her. This was a crazy time. My husband was upset about it and was very protective of her. But to my insistence he let things be. I let Morgan meet her and of course he fell head over heels in love. She looked just like him. Things got rockier then, but we managed. Morgan moved back from MN and believe it or not the three of us figured out how to all be parents together. Yes, there were times when toes were being stepped on, but that happens in two parent households, we worked it out and moved on. We did what was best for her. To this day our pediatrician still marvels at how we are all still in touch with each other. Morgan and my husband play tennis together, and we dog sit Morgan's dog when he is out of town.

Back on track. We lived as neighbor's and we co-parented. On October 8th 2000 My husband was on a drill weekend, so Morgan came over early to hang out with Maddie while I went to work. She was still sleeping when I left, and Morgan was hoping to get a few more Z's on the couch before she woke up. So as I left for work, I skipped kissing her goodbye in fear of waking her and starting Morgans day before he wanted. That was a decision that I regret to this day.

You see I worked at Copley Hospital as the admitting clerk in the Emergency Room. That day I was working the 7 a.m.-3 p.m. shift, it was a Sunday. The day went on like normal, I remember it being a pretty slow day in the ER. Morgan called me once to let me know that Maddie wasn't really interested eating and that she seemed congested. Two days prior she was diagnosed with a ear infection and a upper respiratory infection so we figured that the antibiotic wasn't working and she was still feeling down and out from her head cold, pretty normal behavior for a 16 month old baby. So after he hung up with me he said that he put her in the bathroom and let the hot shower steam fill the air. Thinking this would be a non medicinal way to help clear her up. Then he put her down for her afternoon nap.

At 1:30 p.m., or so, the tone went out on the local ambulance. It was being called to the apartment complex that I lived in for a baby that was blue and not breathing. The call was for apt # 18. I breathed a sigh of relief b/c my apt # was 36. Then it hit me that Morgan's # was 18. I don't remember breathing again for days. I rushed into the ER and told the head nurse down there that it was Maddie. Then I ran back to my office and listened to the radio. I could hear the guys talking and reporting that they were at the wrong apt complex...tick-tick-tick....I called the dispatch and told them who I was and that I thought that they were going to pick up my child and I told them where to go. At that point I remember the nurse turning my radio off and telling me that I should try to call my supervisor b/c I shouldn't be working now. She knew more than I did at that point. I was alone. It gets blurry, but somehow my supervisor shows up and relieves me of my desk. I remember pacing up and down the hallways crying and yelling....helpless...that feeling of utter helpless...I wasn't there for her. Then the ambulance arrived. Morgan and his parents, who were up for the day visiting, showed up too. Morgan was ashed, and his mother was surprisingly giddy. He really couldn't tell me at that point what had happened and I really wasn't interested in hearing it, I just wanted to know what was going on behind the closed doors of room 1.

They brought me in as they were working on her....I knew she was gone and that she had been for awhile. I cried and touched her and then told them to stop. It came so natural. She was pronounced dead at 2:22 p.m. The ex-abated her and then let me hold her. My family showed up one by one. My parents and sister were first. Then my husband and an hour or so later my in laws. We were all in shock. Why? How?

They had the normal cop routine because she was an infant. They prodded me for information about Morgan. I guess looking to point some sort of finger. I told them that there was no way that he would hurt her. Then I remember them moving her to room 5. The room right next to my office. In there she was swaddled so tight that It was hard to believe that she was gone and not sleeping. I can't tell you how long I spent in that room....leaving the hospital without her was the hardest.

The days following are all a blurry. She passed on a Sunday. Her autopsy was on Monday and when that was finished I was allowed to pick her up. So My hubby and I made an appt to have a tattoo done in her memory. I'm not the type, but at the time I just needed to do it. It wasn't planned but my tattoo started right at 4 p.m. right when they were beginning her autopsy....When we were finished we drove to the medical center and met with the medical examiner as well as her pediatrician to talk about what they found. There was nothing. Some things were still to be sent off to their lab, but there was no answer to our questions of why.

The state of Vermont is very lenient about body handling, and we were informed that we could just take her with us and bring her to the funeral home if we wanted. Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way. So we carried her body, in a moses basket, in our car and made the 45 minute drive to the funeral home closest to my parents house. At the funeral home, the director told me that I didn't have to have her here. That she wasn't going to sit in a cooler, but on his desk. That back in the day we used to take care of our own, and if I wanted to do that, I could. I could even bring her to the crematorium when I was ready. I collected the needed paper work, and my daughter's body and headed home.

The first night I placed her body on my bed. She was still in her basket, but I needed her close. I inspected her body. Checked every wound that the ME inflicted. I touched her and cried. Her perfect "Y" incision on her chest...and the halo of sutures on her crown --- a violation of a very perfect body.

The next day we held her wake. We had it at my parents house and once again my memory of this event is quite blurry. I remember a lot of people in my parents house. 104 to be exact (at least that's how many signed in).

On Wednesday I was ready to bring her body to the crematorium - it was time. Nature was telling me. There was nothing gross or disfiguring about her, but I just knew that it was time to go. I drove. I remember my hubby and father being in the car with me. I'm sure that there were others, but I just don't remember. I remember pulling up to the funeral home, carring her inside and saying my last goodbyes.....

The weeks following are jumbled. And it took about 6 weeks to start to feel normal again. (Normal - loosely, as I'm sure that you can understand.) But it was at that 6 week mark that I learned that I was pregnant. The following fall my son Owen was born. Adding new emotions to how I viewed motherhood. He kept me alive, and still does. A part of me died when I lost Madison, but I hold her deep within my soul, and it is that memory that aids me in how I mother today. I think of her at least once a day, and I live my life for my kids.

Madison's fulfilled her life's mission is such a short time. She showed me how to love and live after a loss. She showed me that I was strong and that I could do anything that I set my heart too. She opened up a whole new world to her father. Showing him that the unexpected isn't always bad. She showed my hubby the true meaning of fatherhood and passion. She brought my biological father home from Alaska, and turned his heart from the cold stones of denial to acceptance and devotion. She touched numerous people in countless ways. I could go on for ever. I feel that I was blessed to have this child as my daughter. I long for the future that she will never have. I watch the girls that are the age that she would be today....I miss her with so much of my soul, but I go on. I keep her close and I remember to live, not only for myself, but for my boys.

The pain doesn't go away. Grief grabs your soul and impants it's tendrials so deep that you are force to deal with it in one way or another. The days do get easier as life goes on, but there will be that one day that will knock up off your path and you have to learn how to deal with it. Expect it - embrace it. Because it keeps the memory and that passion that we hold so dear alive.

Sincerely,
Jenn

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Jennifer - posted on 11/18/2008

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Vivian Lynn 10.11.2006



When I became pregnant with Vivian, I had been a nurse for almost 3 years. I had worked in pediatrics for a bit - oncology - it was hard (and I really loved OB) so I switched positions. I work in the urban Detroit hospital. I worked there for about a year when I was approaching my due date.



We have a large midwifery practice so I had been seeing the midwife. My pregnancy was completely normal. I did everything "right" - good prenatal care, vitamins, healthy diet, I even went on bed rest when I started dilating at 32wks. Then at my 38week check up I told the midwife that her movement had decreased a little. We both thought that was normal given her size - she was a big baby. I had just had an ultrasound at 35 3/7wks and all was well and we listened to the heartbeat - thump, thump, thump - it was 120-140 beats per minute which is completely normal.



In retrospect I do remember thinking it sounded a bit harsher than normal (this was most likely do to the water they later found around her heart). I went home that day and took a nap because I wasn't feeling 100%. I told my husband that she wasn't moving as much and we both shrugged it off to size again. I went about my normal day taking care of the house, my son Michael (who was 10 at the time) and finishing up some crafts and projects for Vivian's nursery. I decided to go to bed early because I was still feeling a little under the weather.



Before I went to bed I stop by the bathroom and on my way out I noticed my cheeks were red, no biggie I was after all pregnant and therefore "running a little hot". I did a kick count and went to sleep.



At 3am that night I woke up in a start as though I had heard a loud noise or came to the point in a bad dream where you have to wake (like in the movies). Little did I know I was waking up to the worst nightmare I could ever imagine. I knew when I woke up something wasn't right. I spent the next few hours trying to get her to move. I jiggled my belly. I ate very sugary snacks. I sat completely still thinking I might just be missing it since I was in such a huff. I even tried listening with my stethoscope which I knew doesn't work for fetal heart tones.



Finally I went to the bathroom to empty my bladder and there I sat sobbing because

I knew my baby was dead. 6am came and I got Michael up for school. 6:30 I called the Midwife and told her that I was going to go in because her movement was still decreased - I didn't want to say out loud she was dead because I still hoped she wasn't. I got Michael to the bus and my husband up to go. I didn't tell him either.



I went to the hospital where I worked. I wrote myself on "the board" and told the nurse why I was there. She put me on the monitor and I was contracting - no new news I

had been since 32 weeks AND heart tones were 120s. I thought "yes, I'm wrong" and as I relaxed the heart tones went down, 110s, 100s, 90s, 100s (tones below 100s aren't very reassuring). Because of the tones a midwife came to scan me (ultrasound). She wouldn't let me see the screen and she wouldn't tell me anything about why the residents were being called. I knew her, I know everyone because I worked there. In come the residents, then the attending who promptly kicked out the residents and

the midwife on call came in too. The midwife on call took my pulse as the attending OB scanned me. "It's maternal" the midwife says and then my husband came in. I knew this was bad because they don't generally let the husbands and such back until their done assessing. He could see the monitor. He could see the beatless heart in our little girl - his first child. He began to cry and the attending says to me "there is no easy

way to say this...." and I reply "she's gone" she nods.



The next hour is a blur. I couldn't cry I had to focus. I had stuff to get done. I had to

have the baby. I ask what next and then we go. 1st a formal ultrasound to measure her weight and the size of an ovarian cyst they had been monitoring. Then to the LDRP where I worked. I was induced but not before the epidural. She was 9#2oz and I was suffering enough with the heartache. 3 pokes later epidural was in. (They also drew my blood for tests)



2hours & 48 minutes later Vivian Lynn was born at 3:48pm 10/11/06. We named her just before I began to push. My husband had wanted to see her first but I couldn't wait any longer I need to know the name of the angel I was working so hard for now. I am so very glad I delivered where I worked or vice versa. I had the attending doctor, the doctor who was following my cyst, my midwife, the midwife on call, a nurse and my manager all there to support me and my husband They were not only the staff they were my friends. They were all so strong for me and crying with each other in the hall. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to push her into the world. I felt discouraged at the progress I was making and so reached down and felt her hair as she crowned. That kept me going.



After her head was born, I had a terrible shoulder dystosia which is where the shoulder is stuck on the pubic bone. I nearly gave up pushing when the midwife on call whispered in my ear "you can do this" and I did.



As is the normal procedure the midwife placed her on my chest and for that brief moment I forgot she wasn't alive. She looked like all the other babies I had seen born in that very same room - a little purplish before the first breath, wet and wrinkly. In my

determination to get her into this world I had forgotten in what state she would arrive and I think a tiny part of me wanted somehow for everyone to be wrong and for her to breath. Well of course she didn't but I cling that brief moment in time when I felt the elation all the other families I've seen in this room have felt.



We held her for 6 and a half hours. My mother and step father (my father died when I was young), Bill's mom, sister and nephew and my son Michael were all there and got

to hold Vivi (or Princess Vivian as I like to fondly remember her). We took a ton of pictures and the hospital gave me foot prints, a blanket, a onsie and a teddy bear for her along with a ton of grief info. The pastoral care came but we weren't in the position to talk to strangers when we had all the support from staff and family that we already knew.



Eventually the family went home and the staff went back to work and Bill and I held her more crying and talking about who she would've been and how we were going to live through this. We let her go at 10:30 that night and decided to cremate her after the autopsy. We had a memorial the following monday. I wear a necklace with a rectangular urn with cursive V engraved on it.



We have a glass case in the livingroom where we keep her larger urn with some dolls and stuffed animals all around - her daddy thought she needed company - and fresh flowers I've kept there ever since we brought her home (2years without fail).



Michael and I used to rock her (by her I mean the urn) when we first brought her home and he would tuck her in her crib and wind up her music boxes after kissing her good

night. I think that's how he mourned for the first few months. He sometimes still winds the boxes. I went back to work in Jan 07. I was still a labor nurse then. I didn't go into "my room" for the first month or so and it was about 2wks before I "did a delivery". It was good to be here, I loved being around all the newborns. I love that job and still

do it part time. I work full time now as a research nurse.



I eventually found out that parvovirus or "5ths disease" was the cause of my daughter's death. It's a very common childhood illness that doesn't cause much problem in kids or grown ups (fever, headache, joint pain, red rash on cheeks, arms and chest) but to the fetus it can cause hydrops fetalis which is a syndrome where water accumulates around the heart and lungs and causes increased liver size. Vivian had a fatal arrhythmia (heart attack) because of the hydrops.



Now that I have had the virus I am immune and it can't impact any future pregnancies. In April of this year (2008) I had another baby girl Lillian Elise. She was born 5wks premature and had a little stay in the NICU. Everything worked out well and she's happy and healthy now.



Everyday I think of her. Almost everyday I cry. My husband says we are lucky to have had her for the 38wks we did. I sometimes wish I would have been able to see her open her eyes, but I wouldn't have wanted her to be in any pain. I keep searching for the "why?" of it all, I know the "how", but unfortunately I don't think there will ever be a answer to the "why?" that will make it ok...not for me, or for anyone who has to loose they child. One day, I can only hope, that I will have enough peace with her death to incorporate her memory into some positive and long lasting contribution to the community of mothers who understand just what it means to love an angel.



Thank you for listening, Jenn

[deleted account]

Here is Ezra's story:

Ezra James
August 18, 2007 - August 24, 2008

Ezra was born prematurely (31 weeks) because of an incompetent cervix. It was my oldest child's first day of Kindergarten. I was feeling crampy all morning with what I thought were intestinal issues (I have IBS). By noon, I realized that it was something else and I was worried about the baby. So, I had my mother-in-law (who, thankfully was in town visiting--we live in AZ and the rest of our family is in CA) drive me to the hospital. I skipped the ER and went straight to maternity because I felt like I was in labor...the contractions were 4 minutes apart. After a brief wait, they took me back and discovered I was 9 cm dilated. We called my husband and prepared to give birth. I was so scared. And then they told me the cord was prolapsed and that the baby could suffocate, So I was rushed back for an emergency C-section. He was born at 2:29pm. He weighed 3 pounds, 6 ounces and was 15 3/4 inches long. My husband was not with me, and they knocked me out because there was not enough time for a spinal. I woke up an hour after he was born. I did not get to hold him because they had him in an incubator and were rushing him to the Children's hospital (the hospital I delivered at did not have a NICU). So, I really didn't get to see him until he was 3 days old.

Ezra spent 64 days in the NICU. While he was there, a variety of issues came up: sight problems, heart problems, joint contractures, and dysmorphic features. He underwent genetic testing but everything came back normal. He would continue to be followed by a cardiologist, ophthalmologist, neurologist, GI doctor (he had trouble eating and required a tube to be fed), geneticist, developmental specialist, a physical therapist, and an occupational therapist. His heart condition (a dilated aortic root valve) was mild, requiring no medication, but he had to have an echocardiogram every 6 months. His eye issue ended up being that he had detached and dislocated lenses--he was given glasses. He was also diagnosed with hydrocephalus when he was 8 months old (fluid was building up on his brain). Further genetic testing was done; many of his specialists believed he had a connective-tissue disorder. But, all of them came back normal. It was so frustrating.

Ezra had a hard time eating. When he was 11 months old, he underwent surgery to have a tube placed in his stomach. While he was in for that, they noticed his breathing issues and hooked us up with an ENT who recommended home oxygen therapy. He was released on August 2, 2008. For the first week, everything was going fine. Ezra was doing ok. He was finally starting to gain weight (he was 12 pounds on his first birthday). On his first birthday (August 13), he was going through his weekly hour of occupational therapy when both his therapist and I noticed his color was grayish and that he seemed to have trouble breathing. I called my husband at work, he rushed home and we got him to the ER. They admitted him and testing began. They scoped his airway and discovered that his epiglotis (a flap of skin connected to the esophagus and windpipe) was 6 times the normal size. The ENT said he was probably born that way. They said he would require a trache for breathing. He was also going to need a shunt placed in his brain for the hydrocephalus. As well as the tube for feedings. All of this for the rest of his life. Plus, by this point he had so much fluid in his lungs from pneumonia that he would have required a ventilator to breathe. Too much for such a little baby. After several days of prayer and discussion, my husband and I decided to have the doctors extubate him and signed a DNR (do not recessitate) form. On Sunday, August 24, when he was one year, 11 days old, Ezra James passed away at 7:25pm. My husband was holding him.

We have two older children who are taking everything in stride...they are so resilient. We are incredibly blessed to have had our boy for as long as we did; he was an amazing little man. He looked so cute in his glasses and he never complained, rarely ever cried, even after everything he had been through. We take comfort in knowing that he is with his Savior, Christ Jesus, in a new PERFECT body. And we press on, knowing that we will be untied with him again in the here-after.

Asta Maria - posted on 10/22/2008

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It is so sad to read your stories. I also lost my first child and was pregnant during the grieving process. It made me have to take care of myself. And was a light in the dark. I was so worried that my daughter would be a neurotic person because of my mental state during the pregnancy, you never know what they are exposed to in the womb.

Here's my story ...
Me and my husband met when he was 18 and I was 17 years old. We fell in love in a day. We moved in together when we were nineteen. When we were 21 we had our first child. It was a beautiful little boy, many said the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. He looked so healthy when he was born and we were so surprised when he was only four weeks old he started having epilepsy episodes. His whole life he had to be on epilepsy medication which wasn't able to stop the episodes completely so we were always trying alternate treatment for his epilepsy.

When he was 23 months old he threw up and the vomit got stuck in his lungs. He was put in the intensive care unit of the hospital where he was put on a ventilator. The doctors told us that it didn't look good, we should prepare for the worst. I remember sitting by his hospital bed crying, thinking to myself: Dear god, he is so young, he hasn't even had his second birthday, please let him have his second birthday. The next day, against all odds, he started getting better. A few days later he had made a full recovery. Two weeks after his second birthday the same thing happened again. He threw up and the vomit got stuck in his lungs. This time the doctor's said: Last time we thought there was no hope so we don't know what to tell you now, it doesn't look good but he is so strong we don't really know what is going to happen. So we foolishly thought that everything was okay, his blood pressure was higher than last time and his CRP levels were better so we thought he would be fine.

The same day that we took him to the hospital I took a pregnancy test because I had noticed that I had a heightened sense of smell and my breasts were sore. It turned out to be positive. I was so strange to feel so happy yet sad at the same time.

On a Thursday morning the doctors had called a meeting with us and asked that our parents would be present to go over the situation as it was. I had spent the night at home because they don't have room in the ICU for next of kin but my husband stayed by his bedside during the night. He wanted me to rest because I had hardly slept for days in the hospital and was pregnant. My mother had been in London with my grandmother the whole week and we had spoken on the phone but I didn't want to worry her for no reason, I believed that my son would recover from this illness just as he had before.

On Tuesday morning I stopped by at her place before going to the hospital to tell her how thing were and about the pregnancy. She had bought my son clothes while she was in London and I was so sad because I knew there was a good chance he might never be able to wear them.

In the meeting with the doctors they told us that the lung infection had spread throughout both lungs, he had what they call white lungs, the white area on an X ray is the infection and his X ray was completely white. His marrow was dead and his blood flakes were all gone. They said there was nothing more they could do for him and if we didn't turn off the machine that was breathing for him there was a good chance that he might start bleeding somewhere and there would be no way to stop it.

Our parents and siblings came by and got to say their goodbyes to our son. He was on pain medications and was in a drug induced coma because otherwise he would try to cough and then the machine could not pump the air into his lungs. Then they moved us to a private room, disconnected all the IV's and turned the off all the equipment, handed me our son and I held him in my arms as he struggled for air but he couldn't breathe on his own because of the infection so he passed away. As he passed away I sang for him a nursery rhyme I used to sing for him when he was going to sleep. I held him in my arms for probably over an hour and then my husband got to sit with him for awhile. Then the nurses brought us a washcloth and clean clothes and we washed his body and tucked him in and then we went home.

The nurse who always took care of him while we were in the hospital took him to the funeral home and we told the doctors that we did not want an autopsy. The doctors told us that if we refused to have an autopsy we would never know why our son, as healthy as he was, suffered from such a severe case of epilepsy. We decided that his body had gone through enough and just wanted him to get peace. The battle was lost. They told us that they didn't think we would get any answers anyway.

We brought his pajamas to the funeral home and his blanket and teddy bears and they dressed him like he was asleep cuddling his bear. It was beautiful. This month it has been two years and six months since our son's passing and each time I think about the moment he passed away I find it hard to breathe. But I am so grateful that he died in my arms, and I got to hold him and say good bye to him, unfortunately not all parents get to do that.

We got a lot of help through the grieving process by the hospital minister and my husband went to see a psychologist. And I advise anyone who goes through such a great tragedy to seek help from professionals.

I remember how people kept telling me it'll get better, and I thought:"You don't know, you're not me. I'll probably never ever stop feeling this way." But it really does get better. I think about my son every day and I often think about things we should have done differently but it does get easier. I also think that our daughter who was born eight moths after our son passed away helped a great deal. She is always smiling and is such a little bundle of joy.

Jami - posted on 10/19/2008

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Here is my story.



Kaitlyn Loren Barber August 8, 2003 - December 22, 2003



I had taken Kaitlyn to the dr. on Dec 17 and he said that she had a virus and it had to just work its way through (words that I have told our current dr. NEVER to say to us!)

so we went home and we were all sick for the rest of the week and started to get better over the weekend. On Monday morning when I got up to go to work and I was getting Kaitlyn ready to go to the babysitters, she was still not quite 100% and when I picked her up she coughed really hard, so I decided I was going to make an apt to take her back in that day, but since I had already missed 3 days of work the week before I made the apt for in the afternoon so I could work half day and then take her. So I went to work and called to check on her a few times that morning and all was well, then when I got to the babysitters house to pick her up, the babysitter said that she had just ate and fell asleep within the last 15-20 minutes so she went in the bedroom where she laid her down to get her, so I followed and as I opened the door the babysitter was picking her up and started screaming that she was blue, so she took her in the living room and started doing CPR while I called 911. I hung up from them and called my husband at work and he came there too. It felt like it took forever for the ambulance to get there (which we found out later that they got lost, they had to be told by an EMT that heard the call over the radio and was coming cause it was his babysitter too), when they finally got there they grabbed her and put her in the ambulance and we were on our way, they stopped half way there to get more EMT's on board and when I looked back they had stopped working on her, so I knew she was gone. When we got there they took her into one room and made us go in another. They came in a few minutes later and told us what we already knew.



So we started calling family cause they lived an hour away and so they started coming down and met us at the hospital. When we finally left the hospital, my husband had to go get our other car from the babysitters and pick up the stuff we had there. He said that was very hard to walk back in that house, I still never have. We have spoke to them a few times, but that is it.



When we had our second daughter Grace it took us a long time before we let her out of our sight and until she was well over a year, there had to be 2 people there so if something happened there was someone with her and someone could call 911. Our daughter is almost 4 and our son is 8 months and I can probably count on one hand how many times we have ever left them. It is so hard. We have never left them with anyone but family and still call 50 times while we are gone.



I would like to say I lightened up when we had our son, but I don't think I really have. My family gets frustrated with me and thinks I don't trust them with the kids, but I tell them you get a little overprotective when you have lost a child.

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