Milestones

WOOHOO!!! Today is my 50th post! This may not seem monumental to some, but anyone who knows my journaling history will understand. I have several paper "journals" that have maybe 5 entries, My myspace page has just a few old ones, and my live journal may have lasted 2 weeks. So, as you can see, 50 is very monumental.

It seems only right that I share this in the memory of my niece. Friday, April 27 would have been her first birthday. Last year at this time we were excitedly awaiting the arrival of my sister's second child, a girl. I got a phone call at about 2 in the morning that she was in labor. I raced to Arlington and met my mom in the waiting room. My dad was watching my nephew Elijah at home.

The hospital had a dry erase board that showed the patients' names and their status (probably not really in keeping with HIPPA, but whatever). I was up every five minutes checking the board. At about 5:30 or 6 when I checked the board, all of my sister's stats had been erased - all that was left was her name. I went to report to my mom that I thought she'd had the baby.

Because of HIPPA, the hospital staff was not allowed to tell us anything. We didn't find out my nephew had been born until about 30 minutes later, so we knew this was probably the case with my niece. We moved to a waiting room closer to my sister's room - and we waited. Doctors and nurses were moving in and out of her room quite a bit, bustling with activity. Then I noticed that the doctors and nurses were all avoiding eye contact with us.

When I saw a nurse come out of her room in tears I knew something was wrong. Then I heard a sound that I will never forget. It is the most haunting thing I've ever heard and hope to never hear again - the wail of a mother finding out her child is dead. I didn't know that's what it was at the time because we still didn't know anything. We knew something was wrong, but never imagined anything like that.

Finally, the doctor and a nurse started walking down the hall toward us. The nurse was holding a box of Kleenex. This was such a surreal moment. It's as if time slowed down. I knew what they were about to tell us, but I couldn't wrap my head around it. The doctor escorted us into the room and told us about the complications.

The pregnancy was perfectly normal. The baby was full term and very healthy as was my sister. There was no way to know that the umbilical cord was tied in a knot. When she dropped into the birth canal the knot tightened, cutting off her oxygen supply. It wasn't until she was out that they even knew there was a problem. Eveyn never opened her eyes, never took a breath.

This is an extremely rare complication. There are knots and there are true knots. Knots are somewhat common, but are more kinks than knots. A true knot is exactly that and it is not so common. It is not predictable and rarely, if ever, shows up on a sonogram. Only about 1% of babies born with true knots die. Little Eveyn was in that 1%.

We spent the next few hours with Eveyn in my sister's room. The staff let us have as much time as we wanted. I held her, kissed her forehead, clung to her. This was my niece who I already loved so much, and she was gone.

We talk about Eveyn regularly, she is still a part of our family. For nine months she was alive, we just couldn't hold her. This will sound bizarre to a lot of people, but she had a personality. I felt like we did know her. So, this Saturday my sister is having a birthday party. Everyone is gathering to eat, spend time together, and have cake and ice cream. Unfortunately, I have to be out of town, but I will be there in spirit.