The Unassisted "Birth" of Lulah Pearl
at 10 weeks.
"Born" on May 5, 2011
Written February 19, 2012
My uterus aches I want a baby so badly. I want to hold her. I want to nurse her. I want to wear her in my sling all day long. I don't care if baby comes through my own body or through adoption, I just need to have one. I can't describe how strong this feeling is. It is so strong that the idea of taking someone elses baby crosses through my mind. I would never do it, but often when I am in a grocery store and I see an itty bitty one strapped into a baby carrier I want to save it. I feel like I could be a better mom to it. I would strap him on to me, lay him at my breast and console his tiny crying voice. I miss the days of cooing and nursing. I miss my baby that is suppose to be here right now in my arms and should be turning three months old. I want to see her chubby cheeks and sweet milky smiles as she drifts off to sleep at my breast. There is a hole in my heart. It needs to be filled. Someone please place a baby in my arms. Someone please heal my hurting heart. Two and a half years of trying to get pregnant~ my heart aches so much. WHY did we have to loose our baby? I'm so scared of finding out I'm pregnant again. If that day ever comes it will be a day of JOY, but also fear. Fear that I could loose another. I saw her tiny hands. Each perfect finger and each perfect toe. Her tiny head laid to the side and her eye and tiny ear bud, not fully formed but there growing in perfectness. I still can't believe how much of a baby she already was, at 10 weeks. I carried her for 3 more weeks after I found out her heart no longer beat. Everyday came and I wanted to see her and hold her. I wanted it all to be over, so I could move on too. So confusing are all these emotions. I wanted to stay "pregnant" with her forever. Forever, safe inside of me. I was so numb. Sad. Trying to be strong for my husband and kids who were experiencing the death too. I prayed that God would allow me to see her when my body birthed her tiny body. He did. My God heard my cry and answered my prayers. I am so thankful. Three weeks passed with her safe inside of me, but with no beating heart. NO cramping came. No bleeding came. Just meals from everyone and meaningless words to try and comfort. "You'll get pregnant again." " This is very normal." "You're lucky that you already have five children." All said with good intentions, but cut so deep. Smiling through the meals and the visits, but my heart was broken and shattered and I never knew if I would be whole again. Finely, 22 days after knowing my baby had died, sitting at the computer messaging a friend who had been through the same devastation as me many times before, I heard and felt a loud "PoP." About half an hour earlier cramping had started and intense cramping had begun and felt very much like labor. It was rhythmic and strong. I couldn't get away from it no matter what I did. I rocked back and forth on my birthing ball while messaging my friend. The "Pop" came and I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I could feel that my pants were soaking wet. I had this fear that I was going to pull down my pants and see tons of blood, but it was clear. I stepped into the shower and squatted Waited. My body sent this push from down deep inside and out plopped a dark red ball onto the shower floor a little larger than a tennis ball. I picked it up, searching carefully for my baby. I badly wanted to see her. Nothing. My heart sank. Had she dissolved in these past three weeks? disappeared? Sadness over took me and I stepped out of the shower to place the placenta into a bowl. As I turned around to step back into the shower, there she was. So tiny and helpless laying on the shower floor. Her tiny hand spread out was the first thing I saw. She was so tiny. The size of my thumb. Unbelievable. Perfect. Whole. I was so scared I was going to hurt her as I picked her lifeless body up. She didn't have skin. She felt like jelly, but shaped like a perfect tiny baby. I held her in my hand. Touched her tiny hand. over and over again. I counted her toes and fingers. 10 tiny toes. 10 tiny fingers all there. I was miraculously holding a tiny human, my baby, only 10 weeks old in the palm of my hand. I was thinking how people destroy this....that this wasn't life. Oh how I wish they could see her. See how beautiful she is. Her head was turned to the side and her eye, black and not completely formed yet was looking up at me. I wanted to keep her and hold her in my hand forever. I knew I had to place her in the cold dark ground, but I didn't want too. I called my husband in. He had bought the most perfect tiniest box. It was near Mother's Day and the box was suppose to be used for a gift card. It was perfect. Decorated with butterflies, it said "You are my most precious gift." We laid her in the box and closed the lid. We did not have her funeral til the next morning and all night long I got up and peeped back inside of that tiny box to take another look at my precious Pearl. It felt weird placing her on my dresser. I wanted to have her in my bed, in my belly. The next morning, we went out and bought a large green planter and picked out a beautiful wild rose bush. As a family, sitting together in our living room we said goodbye. We placed her at the bottom of the planter, each covering her with a handful of soil and planting this beautiful pink wild rose bush on top. We sang the hymn, "In the Garden" and read Psalms 139. I felt some peace. Sadness was still raw, but peace would come. We placed her (the planter) outside on our front porch where we could see her bloom everyday throughout the season and again and again the following years. It felt right having her nearby. That has been 10 months ago and spring is coming. I've seen new green leaf buds sprouting out of her rose bush. I can't wait to see her come to life this year and spread her beauty out as each leaf unfurrows and every petal opens up.
