Haidyn Hope Aguirre, Our Guardian Angel

{This entry has been saved on my computer for almost a month. I had a rough night one early February day and needed to get my emotions out so I wrote. The result is the following piece: I’m warning you, it’s incredibly emotional…grab a box of tissues.}

My doctor had recommended, on top of the testing being performed on Baby#4, that Mike and I each have chromosome analyses done. So I trekked off to the lab one day to have vials and vials worth of blood drawn from my terrible veins and spend some more time with Jackie, the world’s best phlebotomist (She and I had been spending a considerable amount of time together lately).

It seemed like an eternity waiting for the results from Baby#4’s chromosome analysis as well as my own. I NEEDED ANSWERS! Why did this keep happening to us? Why had we heard a healthy heartbeat and then heard nothing? Why can’t our babies live to see our loving faces?

My doctor called me the morning of Wednesday, February 1, 2012. I was on Prep in my classroom when an unknown number showed up on my cell phone. Concerned it was a parent of one of my students, I answered. It was my doctor making a phone call that would replay in my head a million times in a few short days. The results were in…my chromosome analysis came back normal (GREAT news) so now we would just have to test Mike, but the baby wasn’t so lucky. Instead of the normal 46 chromosomes humans are built with (23 from mom, 23 from dad), our precious Baby#4 had 69. Wait….what?? I asked her how this could be possible and she told me there was no real answer to that question. She left me to process the information but also told me that Baby#4’s chromosomes were XXX.

I had a hard time processing so I did the only thing I knew to do at that point: I Googled. The information I found left a gaping hole in my heart and a pit in my stomach. Baby#4 suffered from a condition called Triploidy, 69 chromosomes. Furthermore, this condition is always fatal, usually resulting in miscarriage at 20 weeks gestation. A small percentage will make it full term but are often stillborn. An even smaller percentage live to see their one month birthday and only a few reported cases have lived to see their first birthday.

ALWAYS FATAL….those words felt like they were literally burned into my retinas. I knew that I should be thankful that Baby#4 wouldn’t have to suffer a condition that wouldn’t allow him/her to live, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was nothing we could have done for him/her.

Furthermore, I wanted some answers as to how this could have happened. Up until this point, I was blaming God. He was the easiest target since we had no answers and were awaiting test results. What I read next left me short of breath: Triploidy can result either from a single egg being fertilized by two sperm or from an error in cell division causing either the egg or the sperm to have 46 chromosomes at the time of fertilization (taken from http://miscarriage.about.com/od/congenitaldisorders/p/triploidy.htm) . I have been told several times after sharing my story that there is nothing Mike or I could have done and that this is not our fault, but literally the ONLY thought running through my head was the following, “Wait….we did this to our baby?! We are the reason he/she is no longer with us?!” Most of you reading are going to agree with all of the people that told us that we are not the reason Baby#4’s life ended unexpectedly.

However, remember when I said I needed someone to blame? Guess who the new scapegoat was? You got it….my husband and I. Now, because I would NEVER want anyone to feel the way I was feeling at that very second, I didn’t place an ounce of blame on Mike. I placed it all on me (my friends will tell you that it’s just in my nature to buck up, buttercup, and blame myself rather than making someone else feel the pain).

After taking a few short breaths and moving the trash can from in front of my desk to underneath my chin, I made a VERY difficult call to my husband. He reassured me that this was what God had in mind for us, that He wouldn’t throw anything at us that we couldn’t handle, and that he loved me unconditionally. I emailed him the link to the website with all of the information and he told me he would read it as soon as we hung up.

The rest of the day, really, is a blur. I need to digress for a minute to tell you about the high school student from the Tech Center that has spent a considerable amount of time in my room since the New Year. She is a family friend and a girl that I love DEARLY! I really don’t know what I would have done without her when we lost precious Baby#4. Anyway, she was with me that day, lesson planning and the like, when I received the phone call from my doctor. She didn’t say much, but her silence was her greatest gift to me. She supported me while I Googled and listened as I reasoned and cried. She really is the BEST.

Anyway, the rest of the day…..I asked one of the greatest people I know, and a coworker, what I should do. I felt like at any moment I was going to vomit and spend a decent amount of time crying uncontrollably, in that order. Should I go home? Attempt to get a substitute (we are experiencing a MAJOR shortage in substitute teachers so I knew it was highly unlikely)? Said friend was wonderful and told me that no matter which decision I made as to the rest of my day, it would be the best for me. I decided to “Buck Up, Buttercup” (as my team and I tell our students when they are suddenly “too sick” to work) and finish my day. The plan was to leave as soon as possible at the end of the day. I did just that.

I spent the rest of the night grieving a loss I had not yet grieved, and trying to wrap my head around all of this new knowledge. To say that I didn’t get much sleep that night is an understatement. I didn’t get ANY sleep that night. At 5:30 the morning of Thursday, February 2, 2012, I called my boss and told her that I had received some devastating news the previous day about my most recent pregnancy (she was incredibly supportive throughout this entire journey) and that I wasn’t about to try coming in and put in for a substitute teacher, all the while crossing my fingers that SOMEONE would accept my job. I spent the rest of the day in that Sam-shaped spot (see previous entries “Grief and all that jazz…” and “Grief and all that jazz…part 2) on my couch sobbing uncontrollably.

If you’ve been following our story, you will know that this was week three after the loss of Baby#4 and that, while I had accepted our loss, I had not yet grieved it. That day, I grieved like it was going out of style. It felt good to cry for hours on end and dream about what could have been. The next morning, I returned to work, feeling a little stronger, a little less weight on my shoulders, but remembering that hole in my heart that was only filled when I thought of Baby#4’s short little life and how he/she was now in a better place.

Now would probably be the best time to tell you that, while I was Googling the information regarding 69 chromosomes, I was also remembering my high school biology class. Why, you ask? Well, I remember studying chromosomes in that class (science was never my strong subject but at least this stuck with me!) and I distinctly remember that XX was female and XY was male. So, did that mean that our Baby#4, XXX, was a female? I had to be certain so I of course Googled…I was right. Darn Mr. Kochenderfer and his filling my head with all of that knowledge…I actually knew what I was talking about this time and it devastated me! We were going to have another little girl…Harper was going to have a little sister…Mike would have had two girls to walk down the aisle. None of that mattered now.

Mike was WONDERFUL during all of this. He listened to my “What-Ifs”, dried my tears, cried with me, held me when I was feeling blue, and in general took excellent care of his crazy grief-stricken wife. We decided together that since we knew the gender of Baby#4, we should name her. This notion came partially from a book I had read, Heaven Is For Real, and partially from an all-too-vivid dream about my baby in Heaven without a name. We spent some careful hours and days thinking about this. We had started discussing names after our successful ultrasound in December and realized that the name we had chosen for another girl would be the ONLY name we would ever want for this baby: Haidyn. We named Baby#4 Haidyn Hope Aguirre.

The following was 100% Mike’s idea and I love him even more for it: We made a shadow box when Harper came home from the hospital. It included her coming home outfit, our hospital bands, her footprints, and our first picture as a family. We had Haidyn’s first pictures and hospital bands from my surgery, along with the beautiful poem that was included in his aunt and uncle’s gift to us (See first post, “Angel in my pocket”). He told me that she was our child and we needed to give her the same place in our home that we had given Harper.

We set out Saturday, February 4, 2012 to Hobby Lobby and spent an hour picking out the perfect accessories for Haidyn’s shadow box. That night, we assembled. It now hangs with Harper’s shadow box, only a few feet from our bedroom. I kiss it each night and tell Haidyn how much I love her. Harper blows her kisses in heaven before she goes to bed.

Haidyn Hope Aguirre, precious Baby#4 and Guardian Angel #3.

Nightmare on Atwood Street…

That cold, January day we were faced with a road we had traveled twice before in the last year (two more times than anyone should have to go through) and were now about to travel for the third time: the loss of Baby#4. If you have been following our story, you know that our first loss happened in February 2011 at five weeks, our second (a blighted ovum) at 11 weeks in July 2011, and our third and most recent loss in January 2012 at almost 13 weeks. We were literally reliving our nightmare AGAIN. Think about the worst day of your life, and then think about reliving it three times in less than a year. That’s exactly the place we were at on January 10, 2012.

After the ultrasound that confirmed our worst fears, our doctor allowed us to sit in her office to process the information we had been given (it didn’t hurt that her office housed an enormous fish tank that kept Harper occupied while we wrapped our heads around this news).  She came in a little while later to discuss our options with us. We knew we had two options at this point: another D&C or let nature run its course. Because we were just shy of the end of our first trimester, our doctor recommended the D&C. We were in agreement and scheduled one for the next day. She also informed us that because we had now experienced the loss of three babies, she wanted to send us to a fertility specialist and run some tests. On top of all of that, she wanted to send the tissue from my D&C to Michigan State to have some further tests ran on the baby. Is your head spinning yet? Mine was…

We left the doctor’s office in a trance. My eyes were swollen and bloodshot, I was on the verge of losing it again, and Mike was trying to keep his emotions in check so he could get us safely home (I can’t imagine how difficult that was for him). I collapsed into the seat of my trusty ride and immediately lost my composure. For the remainder of the 45 minute ride, I followed a pattern: sob uncontrollably, gain my composure long enough to get out a two-three word sentence, repeat. Poor Harper…I couldn’t imagine what she was going through: her mom was a hysterical mess and her dad wasn’t saying a word. This poor little girl…she had no idea what was going on but was trapped in that car with us until we got home.

I made one phone call on the way home. I called my parents. It seemed like the most natural thing to do. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy phone call to make, but I thought I could get through it. My dad picked up with a cheerful “Hello?” and I lost it again. Through my sobs, he made out the jist of the reason for my phone call. I have to digress here for a minute. My dad is that man who remains pretty calm in a crisis and usually is able to say just the right thing to make me feel better. I think I threw him a curveball that fateful January day because he met my message with, “Let me get your mom. She’ll know what to say.” As I think back on his reaction, I chuckle a little. Anyway, I gave both of my parents the rundown and hung up the phone. I wasn’t about to make any more phone calls regarding this topic for at least two weeks…..that was, by far, the most difficult call to make. Anyone else that needed to be informed was done so via text message. Thank God for modern technology! I couldn’t make the necessary phone calls but all parties that needed to be involved could be done so through a mass text message, saving me the tears associated with speaking to someone.

The rest of that night is mostly a blur. I do, however, remember two defining moments. The first was shortly after we arrived home. I wanted to get out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable so I went upstairs to do so. I forgot, however, that I had purchased a few outfits in hopes that Baby#4 was a boy, and had them hanging in my closet. Hysterical sobbing episode #1…check. When I regained my composure, I grabbed the tiny little outfits and made my way to my front porch (where I was storing Baby#4’s belongings). As soon as I opened the door to the front porch, I saw it staring at me: the blanket I had surprised Mike with on Christmas Day. I literally collapsed in the doorway. Hysterical sobbing episode#2…check.

Mike took care of the few reminders of Baby#4 and helped me to the couch (remember that Sam-shaped imprint from Babies #2 and #3? Yeah, it was about to get EVEN bigger….). From what I have been told, I spent the remainder of the night sitting in that very spot staring into space. Mike ordered us dinner and made me eat (I’m pretty sure I took four bites and it took me an hour to take those four). He also helped me to bed and held me all night. He was literally my Godsend.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night and literally moved from place to place the next day in a complete daze. I won’t go into the details regarding my second D&C in less than six months, as it was incredibly emotional and all too familiar for my husband and I. I experienced some complications following my procedure and spent the better part of the weekend either laying completely flat or standing, not doing much of anything at all.

I returned to work on Monday. Notice how there isn’t much to read in between my story of the operation and my returning to work?! That’s because there isn’t much to tell….I spent most of the time not really saying anything to anyone nor did I begin my grieving. I was in a really weird place, kind of in limbo with my feelings. However, I returned to work on Monday only to be met with the world’s most supportive staff. My boss was phenomenal and checked in on me often; my teaching team had spent my time out supporting a substitute teacher and never complaining about it; and my students, well they put smiles on my face in my time of greatest need.

I spent the better part of the next few weeks walking around in a bit of a trance…not really sure where I should be with my healing and not really sure how to get to that place.

Stay tuned for my next entry about grieving our most recent loss and the groundbreaking idea that finally helped me begin to move on…Thanks for reading!

I stand corrected....

Ah, the holidays…an Aguirre family favorite! Each one of us dives in head first with holiday spirit! The house gets decorated Thanksgiving day after the meal has been prepared and eaten, and the guests returned to their cozy homes. We literally spend ALL night preparing Casa de Aguirre for Christmas, just to retire to bed late and get up early for the best day of the year, BLACK FRIDAY (Call me crazy, I actually look forward to the madhouse that ensues that cold, Friday morning each year)!! The holidays were in full swing with family parties and get togethers with friends. All the while, I was creeping (or so it seemed) along in my pregnancy. We were blissfully happy and preparing for another holiday season with our miracle and Baby#4 on the way.

Why am I telling you all of this, you may ask?! Well, because the holidays are an incredibly important part of our story. When I last left you, I relayed the story of our most recent ultrasound in December. Because we were given a clean bill of health for Baby#4 and a VERY strong heartbeat, we decided the time had come to finally announce to our extended family and friends that we were expecting, and this time all was well in our pregnancy (it didn’t hurt that I was starting to develop a fondness for all food in sight and a slight pregnancy stomach). We had family photos taken for Christmas cards and had planned to use them. However, there was a VERY special photo we were planning to include as well.

Harper was aware of the little bundle of joy growing within my body and would spend time each day “bonding” with baby. She would pretend her baby dolls were our baby and tell me each day, countless times, that she thought Baby#4 was a boy, wait a girl, no a boy. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted a brother or sister. She would tell us Baby#4 was a girl but turn around in the same breath tell us she wanted a baby brother, and vice versa. It was ADORABLE with a capital A. Each night before bed, she would pray for mommy, daddy, Harper, and Baby before kissing my stomach and telling Baby#4 that she loved him/her.

Back to the photo….we had decided to take a picture of Harper underneath our Christmas tree (as we had done previous Christmases with her) holding our latest ultrasound photo and release our exciting news that way. We included some of our professional shots along with the most precious photo we had ever seen as well and a message announcing our good news.

 

As you can imagine, given our previous experiences, our family and friends were over the moon for us and couldn’t wait for another baby to love and spoil. This would finally mark the second grandchild on each side after difficult months spent trying and greiving, and the 75^th member of Mike’s extended family.

As I shopped one pre-Christmas day, I decided to carry on some of our annual traditions for Baby#4. Why not start now?! I bought pajamas to unwrap with our Christmas Eve pajamas (a set of “I Love Daddy” and a set of “I Love Mommy”), a package of diapers to put in our “Santa box” (we all get undergarments from Santa), and an incredibly soft and beautiful gender neutral blanket for Daddy to unwrap. Harper also received a picture frame that read “Me and My Big Sister” from Baby#4. I could not wait for Mike and Harper to unwrap the “surprises” that awaited them from and for Baby#4.

It was a glorious Christmas season and all of my surprises were met with shock and happiness, as I was hoping they would be. We enjoyed our time with family and friends, and especially enjoyed our time as a new family of four. I was beginning to show, as by Christmas I was pushing 10 weeks, and blissfully enjoying my pregnant status, completely unaware of what lie ahead of me.

After a much needed Christmas break, I returned to work on January 3, 2012, ready for the New Year and all it could throw at me. I was finally overcoming the first trimester nuances: nausea, morning sickness, extreme lack of energy, etc. and excited to be back to my daily grind. I also was getting a new addition to my classroom: a student from the Tech Center who would be with me for six weeks. She was also a close family friend and what I consider my little sister (I literally remember the day she was born and spent the first three years of her life with her as much as possible).

We had another routine appointment scheduled for Tuesday, January 10, 2012. I asked Mike the night before if he could get out of work early to accompany me to the doctor’s office. I wanted nothing other than for him to be there. I had no worries or fears about this appointment. We were, at that point, just days shy of the end of our first trimester. So I left as soon as school let out and Mike met me at home with Harper, ready to go. We enjoyed our ride to the office, laughing and singing with Harper in the back seat.

We arrived, as always, 15 minutes prior to our appointment time and were taken back to a room promptly. The normal routine was followed: blood pressure, pulse, pee in a cup. And then the doctor came in. She measured the position of my uterus and felt around my stomach. Then she pulled out the Doppler (device used to hear baby’s heartbeat). As she moved the wand around my abdomen I suddenly realized how quiet the room was. My doctor’s face gave EVERYthing away….no heartbeat…

Because she spent a considerable amount of time TRYING to find a heartbeat and we were all certain that the baby was just really good at hide and seek, she ordered an ultrasound. For the record, I was a hot mess as soon as she told me she couldn’t find Baby#4’s heartbeat. My shoulders were heaving, my eyes were filled with tears, and I was about 30 seconds away from wailing. Mike was sharing in my terror and fear. Harper was terrified because both he and I were crying uncontrollably.

We were fit in for an emergency ultrasound that confirmed our worst fears: a heartbeat could not be found for Baby#4. As I have said before, I am an eternal optimist so I was willing Nicole, the ultrasound tech, to find a heartbeat and God to start up a heart that was no longer beating. I was let down, once again. No amount of description could convey the feelings of the loss of ANOTHER baby in less than a year, a baby who was healthy just a few weeks ago.

I stand corrected. February 17, 2011 was not the worst day of my life; January 10, 2012 was….

Stay tuned for grieving process #3 and some heartbreaking discoveries. Thanks again for reading!

The Holidays….The Most Wonderful Time of Year

I realized on that crisp fall day, after hanging up with my doctor’s office that Thanksgiving was easily becoming my new favorite holiday! We were due to see pictures of our newest endeavor (Baby#4) November 23, 2011 in the early afternoon. I had the day off due to Thanksgiving break and Mike took the afternoon off to be with Harper and I in the ultrasound room. I was incredibly nervous, given my previous experiences in that small, baby-filled room, but was willing to take my chances. I had been telling Mike since the morning those two pink lines appeared that this felt like “our month”. I was at ease with the news of this pregnancy and in my mind that meant that everything was going as planned. We drove to the doctor’s office feeling pretty anxious, but no one could deny the tiny bit of excitement that kept creeping up.

As with so many ultrasounds before, I arrived at the doctor’s office with an incredibly full bladder. I basically danced my way up to the counter to check in, and over to my seat. I was relieved when the ultrasound technician called us back only a few minutes later. Mike held on to Harper at the foot of the ultrasound table with one hand but his other hand never left mine. The ultrasound technician was able to get a good view of the gestational sac, but not of the peanut growing inside of it. You can only imagine the emotions I felt following that news. I was asked to empty my bladder so that we could try a transvaginal ultrasound (I have experienced this type of ultrasound WAY more times than a woman should!). Mike and Harper traveled to the head of the ultrasound table but his right hand never left my left hand (You can only imagine his discomfort at the type of procedure being performed on his wife right before his eyes!).

Only a few seconds passed before BINGO! We had a baby! Now, we were only a little more than five weeks along so we didn’t exactly have a “baby”, but we had a yolk sac and that was incredibly promising! The ultrasound technician told us that it was incredibly normal to see only a yolk sac at five weeks two days and that everything looked great. She gave us wonderful news, took a couple of pictures, and spoke with my doctor who ordered another ultrasound three weeks later to double check everything.

Thanksgiving came and went, as did my favorite shopping day of the year, Black Friday. All the while, I was met with this overwhelming sense of relief and joy. We had done it! After almost a year and two guardian angels, we were finally going to have another baby. Although we hadn’t seen a “baby” yet, we were hopeful and did let close family and a few friends in on the news. Well, I told close family and a few friends, Mike told EVERYONE he came in contact with. He was elated! I was being a little more cautious.

As the Christmas season was upon us, we went about our normal routine for the holidays: decorating, family parties, shopping, wrapping, general merriment. Even though it seems as though I had plenty to keep me busy, I was still quite nervous about our ultrasound in a few weeks and it consumed my every thought.

My ultrasound was scheduled for early afternoon on Monday, December 12, 2011. Due to this, I planned to take the afternoon off at work. Due to the exhaustion that had suddenly set in, I decided to take the entire day. I figured even if nothing else, I would get a little rest, which I desperately needed. Right….rest, when I was on pins and needles about the ultrasound….Let’s just say that didn’t happen. Instead I was up and at it early and decided since I couldn’t “rest”, I would get some Christmas shopping done. I figured that I would need something to keep me busy before my appointment and just in case, some wrapping to keep me busy that night (remember, I was restless about how this appointment would go, given we didn’t see “baby” before).

So I did just that, I shopped. Boy, was I good at it that day! Shopping is my therapy; it’s what I do when I’m upset, when I’m angry, when I’m not feeling well or when that friendly PMS sets in (my husband doesn’t exactly love my “therapy” as it costs him a considerable amount of money sometimes). I literally had a trunk and backseat full of gifts. However, after that day, I was almost finished with my Christmas shopping! BONUS!

Mike was not able to get the afternoon off as he had another mandatory meeting after work….sigh….I had gone this route before, in July, and it didn’t turn out well. Let’s admit…I was more than nervous at this point (hence my EXCELLENT shopping abilities that day). Before he left for work that morning, Mike gave me a pep talk about how this felt right and how everything was going to be fine. Just in case, he said, he would check in frequently and keep his phone on his side at all times.

As my shopping drew to a close, I engaged in the normal ultrasound routine: I drank what seemed like my body weight in water just to go have someone press on my bladder for 15-20 minutes. I arrived at the office 15 minutes prior to my appointment with yet again, a VERY full bladder. At this point, I was getting good at “holding it”, but still so very uncomfortable. Nicole, the ultrasound technician who I have grown to absolutely love, called me back a few minutes later. She has been my ultrasound tech since our first ultrasound with Harper and is very familiar with our case so she was just as hesitant as I was about this “routine” procedure. A little cold goopy stuff and an ultrasound wand later, and not only did we have a baby we had a VERY strong heartbeat…162 bpm. YES!!!

You can’t even begin to imagine my, and hers I’m sure, relief. I’m a crier, I will admit that, but only at the “normal” moments (weddings, funerals, babies, etc). The waterworks were a flowing that day. I could get over my fear and start living life as a normal pregnant woman, not some crazy walking around on eggshells pregnant woman. It was a grand feeling!

Nicole finished up my ultrasound and gave me SEVERAL pictures of Baby#4 (all of the office policies state that 3-5 pictures will be given, I had TEN!). I had a follow up appointment with my doctor so, with an undeniable sense of excitement and one of my biggest smiles, I happily walked back out to the waiting room. I sat down in a chair and called my very anxious husband. The conversation went something like this (I remember it well):

Mike: “Hello?” (he wears his heart on his sleeve, this was a very cautious hello)

Sam: “Hey babe, is this a good time?”

Mike: “Yeah…..”

Sam: “2 arms, 2 legs, 1 VERY strong heartbeat, and a beautiful baby”

Mike: (insert enormous sigh of relief) “Good. Can you text me a picture?”

Sam: “Absolutely!”

Mike: “Okay, I’ll talk to you in a bit. I love you”

Sam: “Love you too, bye”

Does anyone else notice how short the above conversation was?! Yeah, so did I. Apparently, so did Mike because he called back about 30 seconds later with more joy and excitement. I understand his caution, but I really think he was concerned about bad news as well and the good news didn’t set in right away. It was cute, really.

My doctor’s appointment was pretty routine: pee in a cup, check everything out, go over ultrasound photos, ask for any questions. Our doctor was also able to give us a due date (our previous ultrasound gave us an estimated, but not an exact): July 21, 2012, right in the dead heat of the summer.

I left the doctor’s office feeling as though my heart was going to explode from happiness. This was finally happening to us, it was finally our turn!

Stay tuned for Christmas and all that it brings as well as another ultrasound story…Thanks for reading!