Kylie Ryann's Story - My Doctor's Appointment

In the days after we returned from the hospital, I wrote down Kylie's story. I know myself. I know that I forget things. Memories fade oh so quickly. Tonight, almost 7 weeks after Kylie's birth, I finally read what I wrote. It brought back a slew of memories and feelings I've tucked deep in my heart. I pulled them back out again as I wrote this post. It brings the feelings of pain and grief to the surface again, but it's okay to pull those feelings out once and awhile. It feels good to grieve. It feels good to remember our daughter's life. I had already forgotten so many of the details I wrote. You'll notice that I've included details that don't really matter in the grand scheme of things, but I didn't want to forget this day.

April 29, 2015 was a regular day. I woke up, went to the gym, came home to shower and get ready, and rode the bus in to work. I thought about catching the Burnsville bus that morning, but chose to take the Lakeville bus because I didn’t want to deal with the traffic driving up to the Burnsville Park-and-Ride. We had a regularly scheduled doctor’s appointment that afternoon. It was scheduled for 24 weeks, but given our change in due date from August 17th to August 30th, it was a 22 week 3 day check-up appointment (or so I thought). 

Our appointment was scheduled with our nurse practitioner for 4:50 pm. I had meant to catch the bus at 3:48, but I didn’t quite make it. I got on the 4:01 bus headed to Lakeville. Patrick and I decided he didn’t need to attend the appointment with me given it was just a general check-up, so he stayed downtown to work. There was an accident on 35W South on the way home. I read and dozed as I headed south. I was so excited for my appointment. I loved hearing Kylie’s heartbeat at our appointments. Each time I heard her heartbeat, I smiled and praised God for her little life. When I got to the Park-and-Ride, it was already 4:40. I knew I was going to be late to our appointment. I ran towards my car (literally ran) and made it into the clinic by 4:53… I ran (Again, literally - ask Patrick, I'm known to do this. I don't really care that I look like a complete goon.) into the building and up the stairs to my appointment, all in great spirits. I couldn’t wait to hear Kylie Ryann’s heartbeat and to see my belly measurements. I knew I had grown in the past few weeks since our 2^nd level ultrasound on April 7^th. I couldn’t wait for the comforting words that our baby girl was perfectly healthy and growing. I actually had a list of questions written out on my iPhone this time to ask my nurse practitioner. We talked about my pregnancy, due date change, and she answered my questions. Then, it was time for my favorite part of the appointment. I hopped up on the table in my knitted black skirt, light green and white pregnancy top, and purple sweater. I quickly lifted my shirt, and she placed the gel on my belly. She moved the Doppler around my lower abdomen, picking up my heartbeat but unable to pick up sweet Kylie’s. She wasn’t overly alarmed that she couldn’t find her tiny, fast heartbeat and went to get the ultrasound machine. My heart sank a bit, and I said a little prayer to the Lord asking that Kylie’s heartbeat would show up strong on the ultrasound. I loved seeing my sweet girl in my womb and was a bit excited to have the opportunity to see her. My nurse practitioner was gone for just a minute and returned with the machine. She place some more gel on my tummy, tucking a towel beneath my skirt. Kylie’s image showed up on the ultrasound machine, and I immediately noticed that I could not see a heartbeat as I could with all of our other ultrasounds. Our nurse practitioner didn’t say a whole lot. Her face told me the story. I said something to the effect of, “You don’t see a heartbeat, do you?” She shook her head no and said that she regretfully did not. I said that I could not either. Kylie wasn’t moving at all. My heart was beating so hard inside my chest. My heart was sinking with initial sadness and disbelief. I remember raising my hands above my head and taking a deep breath. I got down off the table as the nurse practitioner told me that she would immediately schedule an ultrasound downstairs in radiology. She left me alone in the room. I called Patrick. He answered at work. I asked him if he had gotten on the bus yet. He had not. I believe it was around 5:23pm. I told my loving husband that he needed to get on the bus now and that he needed to come to the clinic. I told my loving husband that our beautiful baby girl did not have a heartbeat but that we needed to be sure with an official ultrasound. He left work immediately. I hung up and began sobbing alone in the room. I prayed to God that it was a mistake, that Kylie had a heartbeat, but I knew she had not moved at all during my ultrasound. She looked different than earlier in the month when I had seen her moving in my womb. Her profile seemed different. The nurse practitioner came back in. She told me that I had an ultrasound scheduled for 6:15pm. She asked if Patrick was coming. I said that he should be there in about 45 minutes. She told me that if they could not detect a heartbeat, the doctor would call me immediately after the ultrasound to discuss our next steps. She told me I would be induced in the next few days to give birth to my beautiful baby girl’s body. I remember that she told me she hoped she was wrong, that she hoped the ultrasound tech would detect a heartbeat, but in my heart I knew our baby had passed away.

After being asked to drink a whole glass of water to prepare for the ultrasound, I walked downstairs to the basement. Half way down the stairs, I called Patrick again. I asked him if he would be ok with me calling my parents. I wanted to respect both his privacy and my own. He said yes, that I could call them. I told him I loved him again. I remember standing in front of a large window, half way down the main staircase at our clinic. Patrick told me he loved me again. I remember this moment so well. I remember sobbing as I hung up the phone. I remember that it truly started to sink in. We had lost our first child. I continued down to the basement and signed into my appointment. There was one other woman in the waiting room. I was silently crying. I called my mom and my dad. Neither answered. My dad called me back a few minutes later. I remember that I had terrible reception. After all, I was in the basement. I walked out of the waiting area to the center area of the basement and called my dad again. He answered. I told him they couldn’t find Kylie’s heartbeat. I told him about our upcoming ultrasound. I asked him to tell my mom. I could barely choke out the words. I hung up. I sat back down in the same waiting room chair. I cried. So many thoughts filled my mind. My name was finally called. I walked towards the ultrasound room. The ultrasound tech asked if I wanted to wait for my husband. I already knew deep down that Kylie was gone, so I told her that I didn't want to wait. I wasn’t sure exactly when Patrick would make it. I asked the lady at the desk to bring my husband back when he arrived. I laid down in the chair, taking a huge breath. We started the ultrasound. Kylie hadn’t moved at all since seeing her upstairs on the ultrasound machine. There was no visual heartbeat, and the ultrasound technician confirmed. Tears streamed down my face. She took measurements of Kylie and told me she was so sorry. 

Something I have learned as we walk through this grief journey is that sometimes there are no words, and that's okay. I simply appreciate an "I'm sorry for your loss." There's not much else to say. I don't know how others feel when they lose a loved one. There's so much pain involved. A simple "I'm sorry. There are no words." will do just fine. Nothing I say will help a grieving individual feel better. I am grateful for that lesson through all of this. 

Kylie measured smaller than she had a few weeks back. It made me afraid. I was afraid to see my daughter. I am ashamed to say that , but it was my true feeling. I was scared of what she would look like after I gave birth. Had her appearance changed after her passing? I have learned to give myself grace through all of this. It's okay that I felt that way. It's all a part of the shock, grief, and sadness of losing our daughter. And you know what? God provided. Before the nurse brought our daughter to us and laid her in my arms the following day, I prayed to God that I would find Kylie beautiful. And she was. She was oh so beautiful to us. I am eternally grateful for that moment and for God's compassion. 

The ultrasound tech asked if I wanted ultrasound photos. I said yes. I didn’t want to regret not getting the photos. She asked if I wanted my husband to see Kylie on the ultrasound. I wanted him to have the chance to see her. Patrick arrived just then. He sat down next to me. He held my hand. He gave me strength. I looked at him and said that our sweet baby girl was gone. He nodded. The ultrasound tech brought our baby girl up on the screen once more. She showed both of us there was no heartbeat. She left us in the room alone. I knew the doctor would call us on the phone in the hallway. I wiped the gel off my stomach. I threw the towel in the bin. Patrick and I hugged and cried. God was giving us our “thing.” We always say, “Everyone gets something… something sad, something hard.” That’s just the way life is. I said to Patrick and he agreed, “God is good. God is always good. He has a plan for us.” We held hands as I sat on the edge of the table. I went to use the restroom. The doctor called soon after. He told us that we were to be induced. He suggested we wait until the next day. We agreed.

We drove home, each of us in our separate vehicle. I called my parents and told them of our confirmed loss of Kylie. My mom cried with me. I hung up close to home. I was grateful I was not hysterical in the car. I have realized that I can talk about the facts quite easily. It's when I speak about my emotions that it becomes much more difficult. We pulled in the garage and closed the garage door. I called some friends, my manager at work. I texted a few people. Our next door neighbors came over. We told them as well. Patrick and I cried together. We ate frozen pizza and applesauce. The hospital called. They told us to arrive at 7:30am and to call at 7am the next morning to confirm. 

I decided to message a high school classmate on Facebook. I knew she had lost a sweet baby boy in her womb the year before. She had been about 22 weeks along. I knew this because she had also blogged about her loss. I remember reading about it, crying for her, but I had not spoken to her since high school. She was incredibly kind and spoke with me for almost an hour about her experience. I cried. I spoke my feelings and emotions aloud to her. She understood. What a gift it was to speak with her. It is just another way God has been so tangibly present throughout this whole journey. She prepared me for what to expect the next day. She prepared me for the decisions we’d have to make. She prepared me for difficult conversations we’d have to have with the medical staff. Most importantly, she shared her story with me. She did not tell me what to feel or how to do things. She just shared what decisions her and her husband had made, how she had felt, and how they had met their sweet son's body. She shared that they brought a blanket to the hospital with them to hold their son in. Because of her thoughtfulness, we now have one of my most prized possessions with us even though Kylie is gone.

Kylie's Blanket

As soon as I got off the phone with my high school classmate, I went upstairs to make a blanket for our Kylie Ryann. I had planned to make her multiple of the same blanket before she was born so that I could wash them and she wouldn’t be without. This one blanket would have to do. I started making the blanket as Patrick cleaned up the kitchen from dinner. He came and joined me in the sewing room when he was finished downstairs. The thread got stuck multiple times. I cried and got angry. I said I couldn’t deal with it. My sweet husband fixed the machine for me and finished sewing Kylie’s blanket. I cleaned up all the clothes I had laid out for our upcoming vacation to Missouri (we opted not to go). I put all my maternity clothes in a pile. I needed them out of our room. I needed to put them away when I returned home from the hospital. We got ready for bed. We looked at my belly in the mirror together knowing this would be the last night at home with our daughter in my womb. We read our bible together. We cried. We tried to sleep. I slept off and on.

Our last ultrasound photos of Kylie - Her sweet little body in the fetal position.

Our last ultrasound photos of Kylie - Her tiny little legs.