Byer Family: Kylie Ryann's Story

It's taken me quite some time to want to sit down and write Kylie's birth story. As I open the file in which I wrote down her story in the days after her birth, it's like I'm opening Pandora's Box. I read my account of that day with so much more detail included than I can remember. Please bear with me as this is a very long post, but I want to share what I consider to be her beautiful birth story.

As I speak to our friends and family and share Kylie's story with them, I always say that I never wish this upon anyone. I hope and pray that no one I know ever has to know what it feels like to hold their child for the first and last time, never having watched them take a breath on this earth. I also tell those people that this day could not have been any better. For the most awful circumstances surrounding Kylie's birthday, I couldn't have asked for anything more. I couldn't have asked for better memories. There are two reasons why I have such postive memories in the midst of such sorrow.

1) The Holy Spirit was without a doubt present in our delivery room.
2) The beautiful women, for whom I am so grateful, that were our nurses that day

Before I go on, I want to share that I have read countless other accounts of women and couples who have walked through the journey that we walk still today. I have read their children's birth stories. Not everyone is as lucky as we are to have such positive memories from the birth of their silent children. I am eternally grateful for the way we were treated in the hospital. The compassion the nurses portrayed was humbling, for I know cases such as ours are difficult for them as well. The respect our daughter received was the same respect any living infant would have received. Because of this compassion and respect, we have the memories of Kylie that we do.

I awoke on Thursday, April 30, 2015 around 5:20am. I was unsure if the day would be our sweet daughter's birthday or not. I’m not sure what order I proceeded to get through the morning. I showered, ate my breakfast, and read my bible. I wrote some verses on post-it notes on the front of my bible. They provided me so much strength and peace throughout that day. They still reside there, and additions have been made, covering the front and back of my bible.

Psalm 29:11 “The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”

This verse has since become "my verse." I run it over and over in my mind many times each day.

John 14:27 “Peace I leave you with, my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

I also bookmarked a few scriptures that I flipped to throughout the day.

Jeremiah 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart”

The Lord had known of our sweet Kylie before we had even planned to conceive her. He had an awesome plan for her, and that plan was to never see a single bad thing on this earth. She was created in love and loved deeply by her daddy and myself while she was in my womb.

Matthew 19:14 “ Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

Our Lord God loves children. He welcomes them to His heaven with open arms. I know there’s a special place for them there because the Lord loves these innocent souls.

When I opened my bible that morning, the first thing I saw was some notes from a recent teaching at our church. My notes were titled “Why do bad things happen?” The way the Lord works in our lives is amazing. I read through my notes. I read through Matthew 26:36-46. God doesn’t always give us answers, but He gives us reassuring signs. We don’t always know why bad things happen, and that’s ok. Jesus faced suffering just like we do here on earth. It is ok to wrestle with God. It’s ok to have questions for him. It’s ok to be upset with him. Pray for God’s will to be done… not mine. This is what I continued to pray to Him throughout labor, Kylie's delivery, and yet today. "Let your will be done, Lord; not my own." The notes I took from just a couple weeks prior to Kylie's birth, my writing to myself, spoke to me. "Go through suffering, not around it. As we go through suffering, God uses it because Jesus suffered. I can face tomorrow."

I was never angry with God. Not once. I know my personality. When I tore my ACLs in college and was sidelined, I was angry with God. Both times, I kept asking, “WHY?!” I do not feel that way about losing our daughter. My faith journey has developed since that time in college. I feel so much strength from Christ. I feel His presence in my daily life. Something that has become another mantra that I say to myself over and over is, “God is good. God is always good.” I know everyone deals with pain and grief differently, but through all of this, I have not been angry with God. He has provided me with so much faith through all of this. It is not my doing. My faith is also a gift from Him. Without it, I would be so lost.

We had packed our hospital bag the night before. I so wished we were filling it with things for our sweet Kylie. I wanted to be packing her "going home outfit," diapers, an adorable hat. Instead, we packed a couple of our own outfits, our tooth brushes, my bible, our iPads, our cell phone chargers, and the blanket we made with so much love and grief for our daughter. I couldn’t leave the blanket in the bag when we left our home. I held it all the way to the hospital. My tears dripped onto it in a constant stream. We parked at the hospital in the visitors lot. We had never been there before. We had hoped to tour the hospital before Kylie was born. I saw a car with a new infant car seat in the backseat. I began to cry harder. My husband was so strong for me. He held me there in the car for a few moments. We got out of the car, retrieved our bags from the trunk. We walked into the hospital and sat in the waiting area where I called the nurse from my cell phone. I cried harder when I hung up. Jen came down to get us. God sent Jen to us that day. She hugged and held me in the waiting room. She told me how sorry she was. I understood… there are no words to say to a couple who is walking through the passing of their unborn child. She took us to our room on the delivery floor. She walked us up the back way. We took an elevator meant for staff. She guided us to our room at the end of the hallway. There were no other patients near our room. Again, I cannot describe how thankful I am for the compassion of the hospital staff during our stay. On our journey to our room, we heard a baby crying. Patrick held me tighter. I cried a little harder. That walk to our room was so difficult. I remember sitting down in a chair. I remember that my gown was on the bed waiting for me. There was a baby warmer. That was so difficult to look at. I wanted my sweet daughter to need the baby warmer. I wanted so badly for her to need it. I cried as we sat in the chairs. Jen was so patient and compassionate as she guided us through some of what we were to expect of the day. She left the room while I changed into my gown. I cried as I changed, folding my yoga pants and running shirt, setting them in the bag we brought to the hospital. I sat back down in the chair next to my husband. He held my hand once more. We have never held hands as much as we did on the day our daughter was born. Jen returned to the room. She asked that I get in bed. I did as she asked. That time was a bit of a blur. We answered a bunch of medical questions, I had a lot of blood taken, Jen put my IV line in. I held onto Kylie’s blanket for most of that time. Once all of those items were finished, at 9:15, I was given my first dose of induction medication and nausea medication. The induction medication has a tendency to make you sick to your stomach. Jen placed the capsules of induction medication next to my cervix. I had to lay on my side for one hour after the capsules were placed. I laid on my left side each time, facing Patrick. He held my hand. During those first four hours, we talked, prayed, and read the bible. Psalm 29:11 “The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.” Over and over, I read that verse throughout the day. We cried off and on, but we were also able to talk and laugh a bit. God was present. God was giving us strength and peace. I sang the lyrics to "Holy Spirit" by Francesca Battistelli in my head throughout the entire day, “Holy Spirit you are welcome here. Flood this space and fill the atmosphere.” I flipped through the gospels, reading scriptures I had underlined. Many happened to be about the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit filled our hospital room that day.

Holy Spirit - Francesca Battistelli

The Chaplin came to talk and pray with us. I called our church and asked to have Pastor Pat come once Kylie was born. The secretary prayed with me. We called Pastor Pat on her cell phone, and she returned our call. She prayed with us over the phone. She said she would come once Kylie joined us. That was what we wanted. Eventually, we ordered lunch. I ate a small cup of soup. I was not hungry. I felt slight cramping towards the end of the first 4 hours of induction.

At 1:15, Jen checked my cervix again and issued my second dose of medication. Once again, I laid on my side for the first hour, facing my strong husband. Again, he held my hand. We watched "House of Cards" via Netflix on my iPad. It gave us a sense of normalcy, almost. When watching, my mind was not so consumed by thoughts of Kylie. Throughout those first 8 hours, I was grateful that the induction takes so much time. We were told that my body wasn’t ready to give birth yet, and truth be told, I wasn’t ready to see our daughter yet. I said that I hoped that by the time she was ready to come, I was ready to give birth to her, to see her. That was one of my biggest fears of the day. I knew I wanted to see our daughter, but I was scared. I was scared to see what she looked like. I was scared I would not think she was beautiful. God would prove once more to be faithful.

The social worker came to talk with us. Patrick and I had spoken off and on throughout the day. We knew we’d have to make funeral home arrangements after Kylie’s birth. We had decided we wanted to cremate Kylie. As I've stated before, I couldn’t imagine her tiny body in a casket. I didn’t want to bury our daughter. What if we move? What if we aren’t buried here in Lakeville one day? We didn't decide in that moment that we'd scatter our sweet daughter’s ashes, but later, after we'd had time to pray about it and talk about it, we decided to scatter our daughter's ashes in Maui. In the hospital, I knew I wanted to scatter them in the ocean at sunset or in a peaceful lake overlooking gorgeous mountains someday. I want to see her in every sunrise. I already do. When I run in the mornings, so often I find myself saying good morning to Kylie in the sunrise, telling her I love her and miss her so much.

At 3:30, Jen was to go home and another nurse was to take her place. I was so nervous. I loved Jen. She was kind, compassionate, she listened to my fears, she hugged me, she supported us. Nickie joined Jen in the room around 3:30 to be briefed on our day. Nickie turned out to be another huge blessing to us. She would be the nurse with us to deliver sweet Kylie. She was wonderful. She was a bit quieter than Jen, and she was exactly who we needed throughout the next 6 hours. We ordered French fries and tortilla chips around 4pm. I was actually a bit hungry given I had not eaten much throughout the day. I ate most of the French fries while we watched House of Cards. Our third dose of induction medication came at 5:30. This was our final dose, for we would give birth to our daughter 4 hours later. Nickie thought my cervix was thinning, but it was hard to reach. She said it could be slightly open. She placed the medication. Once again, I laid on my side facing my husband. He held my hand. We watched the Netflix show on the iPad. We talked, we cried. We hoped for the future. I lost all track of time during this portion of our day. My cramps quickly turned into contractions. My contractions became incredibly intense. I breathed through each of them. I decided to have an epidural given I thought I may be in labor until morning. Many inductions around 24 weeks can take up to 24 hours or more. I had also become feverish and was given Tylenol to bring down my fever. Those french fries I ate... I threw them all up. It felt like an eternity until the doctor came to administer my epidural. Once he arrived, the anesthesiologist gave me the epidural. Patrick was allowed to stay. He had to sit in front of me on a stool. Nickie held me as I sat with my legs over the side of the bed. She allowed me to place my head on her shoulders. I grabbed a hold of her scrubs and held on for dear life. This moment in which she held me means so much to me. She didn’t know me, she had just met me hours before, yet God used her during this time as my rock. I felt so much emotional and physical pain in that moment. God gave me something to grab onto, something steady to calm me. Once laying down again, I told Nickie and Patrick that I still felt quite strong contractions on my right side. They helped me to flip to lay on my left facing my ever-supportive husband. I was so cold. My body shook uncontrollably. Once facing Patrick, I focused every breath on getting through each contraction and on controlling my shaking. The anesthesiologist returned to increase my dosage. It helped my right side go mostly numb. I then focused on breathing to control my shaking. Per my request, Patrick placed my sweatshirt over the heated blankets. I was just so cold.

A couple hours later, I felt a gush of fluid. I was so worried our Sweet Kylie may have come. I did not move from my position. I quickly asked Patrick to call Nickie. She came in to check. My water indeed had broken, but Kylie had not been born. I was still trying to control my shaking. I did not want to spontaneously deliver my daughter. A little while later, my guess it close to 9:15pm, I felt pressure. I felt like Kylie was coming. I was still laying on my left side. I was very concerned and scared. Once again, I had Patrick call Nickie into the room. I told her I thought Kylie was coming. She checked and responded that her head was right there. She was ready to come. I closed my legs once more while we waited for the doctor to arrive. Once again, I focused on my breathing to control the shaking. Once the doctor arrived, I delivered Kylie into his arms. I delivered her in one easy push while holding onto my husband’s hand, looking into his eyes. I told him so many times that I loved him. He told me I was so strong. I did feel strong in that moment. The Holy Spirit filled our room. I knew it was going to be okay. I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy road, but it was going to be okay. I remember Nickie wheeling in a bassinet to place our sweet daughter into. They moved her to the room next door, taking sweet care of her until we were ready to see our daughter. The Lord truly made Kylie’s difficult birth as smooth as it possibly could have gone.

As soon as I was changed into a clean gown after birth, the nurses sat me back up in my bed. I turned to Patrick and asked him if he was ready to meet our daughter. I knew I was ready. As Nickie left the room to get sweet Kylie, I prayed. I prayed to the Lord that Kylie would be beautiful to me. Nickie walked back into the room with Kylie. In her beautiful hat and sweet blanket Patrick and I made together, she was placed in my arms. She was beautiful, so fragile, so sweet. Her lips were parted. I ran my finger along them. I remember seeing her suck during our first ultrasound. I remember that it made me so happy to see her do that. For awhile, I just stared at her face. I felt so much peace in that moment. I touched her cheek. I cried a little. No sobs, just tears. Patrick stood next to me with his hand on my arm. I asked if he wanted to hold her. He told me he was not quite ready yet. He texted Pastor Pat. I asked Patrick if it was okay that I open her blanket. I thought this was something I would have difficulty doing. I did not. We stared at her sweet, tiny body; 10 fingers, 10 toes. I touched her hand, her foot, her stomach. She was so fragile. I touched her arm. I kissed her head. Patrick held her for awhile. He sat in the chair next to my bed and stared at his daughter. I called Pastor Pat. She and her husband came to the hospital. Patrick placed Kylie back in my arms before they arrived. Pastor Pat baptized Kylie Ryann in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. She placed three drops of holy water on her forehead. She anointed her with oil. She wiped the oil with a small hankie that I now hold so dear to my heart. It has a red cross on it, and for awhile it smelled of the oil wiped from Kylie’s head. If I breathe deeply, I feel that I can still smell it. Maybe it's just that I remember that moment so vividly, or maybe the scent is gracefully hanging on for a little while longer. That was an incredibly emotional moment. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer together.

Once Pastor Pat and her husband left, we decided we would say goodbye to our daughter. Patrick and I prayed over her. We told her we loved her so many more times than I can count. We kissed her forehead. We felt an incredible sense of peace. We called Nickie back into the room. We told her we had said our goodbyes to our beautiful daughter and that we were ready for her to take Kylie. She took our sweet girl into her arms. We cried, but we felt very at peace.

A new nurse came on about the time we said our goodbyes to Kylie. Her name was Sara. She took the time to gather Kylie's beautiful tiny foot prints and hand prints. I know she spent a lot of time getting the most perfect ones that she could for us. She placed them on Kylie’s certificate of life. She pressed Kylie's footprints into model magic and put them in a beautiful keepsake box. Sara weighed Kylie and measured her. She weighed 7.4oz, she was 9 inches long, and her head was 5 ½ inches around. She made extra copies of her wristband for us to keep. Nickie had made us a bracelet of pink and white beads with “Kylie Ryann” on it. We received certificates in which all of her birth information was written. She gave us the tape measure used to measure our daughter. We received a beautiful crocheted blanket and a set of handmade tiny diapers, hat, and blanket. I had no idea these items would mean so very much to me. What I do know now is also how much the photos of Kylie truly mean to me. Nickie took them for us while we held our daughter in our arms. For about a month, I looked at them each day, many times per day. I knew that one day I would look at them just once per day, then just a few times per week, then maybe once per week, then maybe just when I felt I needed it. That's where I am now. I keep a photo of Kylie in my nightstand. I look at her when I feel I need to, when I need a reminder of her beautiful image. I am so incredibly thankful for the photos of my beautiful daughter. They are very private to us. They mean so much to us.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. My fever was quickly controlled and broke soon after delivering Kylie. I could tell Patrick was worried about me and my fever. I asked God to bless me with no complications. He is so good. I know it sounds crazy, but Patrick and I watched another Netflix show, we spoke of our daughter, we didn’t shed too many tears that night. Many, many tears would come later. We both slept a few hours until morning. We ordered breakfast, the doctor checked on me, we were discharged. I prayed for strength as we gathered all our things and I changed back into my clothes. We left the hospital with our bags, my purse, and a paper bag full of Kylie’s things. We left the hospital without our daughter. Jen was once again our nurse on Friday morning. She walked us to the front door. She gave me a hug. She confirmed what I already knew, that God would take care of us. Patrick wrapped his arm around me, and we walked into the parking lot. I sobbed. I sobbed because we were leaving our daughter behind us. I sobbed because it was still just the two of us. We placed our bags in the trunk. As we exited the parking lot, a man was placing an infant carseat into his car. I cried harder. I told Patrick that it would be him doing that next time around. He would be the one in the parking lot, wrestling with the infant carrier. We missed our sweet Kylie Ryann Byer. We miss her everyday.