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Question: Have you ever suffered a loss of a child?


No, never


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Sixteen years ago come December 29th at 9:05 AM,  Rebekah Leah'Dian was born.

Let me back up a tad and give you the whole story.

I was in the beginning of my 7th month of pregnancy on December 22nd.  We were at a company Christmas party when this very shy young man, who worked with my husband and was a bit inebriated, worked up the nerve to ask if he could feel the baby kick.  By this time I knew something was wrong because she hadn't moved much in the past week.  I had called the Dr.'s nurse, his wife, and even though I said this is my second pregnancy, I know as you get further along the baby is bigger and moves less... every pregnancy is different.  Even though I told her this she said it was no big deal.  I should have said the "quality of movement" wasn't there... speak HER language. 

Any way I digress and I apologize.

He felt of my tummy and I slightly bucked my back to make him think Bekah had kicked him.  He was happy.  I didn't tell my husband anything was wrong and how scared I was after speaking with the nurse.  You see Christmas Eve was coming and my eldest son was aobut 10 years old.  We always celebrated with my mom in law and brother in law.  So I didn't say anything.  Who wants to have Christmas Eve as THE date for telling everyone something was wrong?

Christmas day was a day when my husband, son and I celebrated together.  No bad memories there.

The day after Christmas I told hubby that I wanted to go to the Dr. and he agreed.

I had to call him a few hrs later to say I was in the hospital and that I had to send the daycare children home.  The Dr. did the sonogram and Bekah was gone.  

Our nightmare began from there.  I was informed that I had two choices to "help" Bekah be born.  I did what I've only read about... I keened.  I had the most scary sound come from my mouth.  I couldn't stop.  I knew it was to loud.  I knew it wasn't what a lady should do.  I couldn't stop.  It scared me to hear myself.  I put my fist in my mouth trying to stop.   I was in shock for the first hr and a half then I went with the less invasive method.  They put me on an IV drip with something (pitocin) that your body naturally puts out to begin contractions.  

Nothing happened.  I wasn't allowed any water or ice chips let alone food, that was the 26th.

On the 27th I went with the slightly more aggressive method and they put me on more pitocin... still no go.  My dh has a small scar from where my fingers dug into his flesh.  I had contractions about every

1 1/2 min. they didn't last very long.  Still no food, ice chips or water.  My wonderful mother called from San Angelo... why you ask?  To beg me NOT to do anything to help Bekah be born... why you ask?  Because what if she were still alive?  Can you see my private hell yet?

December 28th rolled in with me on yet more pitocin and you guessed it! No food, water or ice chips.

Finally my awesome Dr. suggested a C section.  My instant reply was NO.  But my dh said if I needed to then.... (Thank GOD I said no at first) the Dr.'s partner stepped in and suggested sea weed sticks.  They are the size of match sticks and are inserted into the cervix.  The body's natural fluids are then absorbed and in turn forces the cervix to open up.

I agreed.  By December 29th at 9:05 am Bekah was finally born.  To say it was a sad day is such a petty way to put it.  Unless you've loss a child you have NOOOOOOOO clue.  I was so bitter towards anyone who had a kind enough heart to dare to say "I'm so sorry for your loss".  Only a woman who suffered the same loss could come close to understanding what I was feeling.  I was bitter for several months after Bekah's birth.  I couldn't even look at a mother with an infant.  I would, I'm embarrassed to admit, turn my back on who ever was there.  Rude yes but I had to survive.

Odd to think back on those days.  While I was huge and in the hospital I couldn't stay away from the nursery room.  I had to be at that window.  Like having to breath to live.  I had such a great outlook even though I knew Bekah was home in my Savior's arms.

A young father came up to the window when I was standing there in my robe.  I asked him which one was his and he showed me.  He then asked, as I knew he would, when I was due.

I looked him in the eye, smiled then said "I'm having a daughter named Rebekah Leah'Dian and she is due tomorrow".  No I am not strong.  Believe you me!  What happened was God's grace.  NOTHING else could have induced me to stand there and speak with that man other wise.

I had NO plans to have another child.  I was mad.  Hurt.  Until our son came in and begged me to not give up on a child.  Please try again later.  You know?  If my dh had asked I would have raged at him that not only no but HELLO no!  But for my 10 yr old son to beg me like that?  I said ok.

God held me in His hand while covering me with the other during that very hard time.  

I would like to take this time to say I'm sorry this may seem to jump around a bit but I'm not a English major as you may have figured out by now and my grammar is TERRABLE! 

Anyway, Bekah was born December 29th at 9 am.  I had visions of aborted children and what they do with them... thinking that would happen to my Bekah.  I wasn't more wrong.  A kind nurse came in with a small blue box with angels all over it.  She asked me if I was ready to pick out a dress to take my child home in?  my thoughts?  "ARE YOU INSANE? SHE IS DEAD! WHY WOULD I NEED A STUPID DRESS?!?"  I didn't say that though.  I'm way to polite... *sigh*.    She finally explained that in Texas, when you are 7 months pregnant or more you are to, by law, take the child home and bury them.

Oddly enough that helped me a bit.  I picked out an off white dress with tiny green stems and leaves and a dusty rose, rose bud on the top.  A "patch" was cut out and ironed on the collar and part of the skirt.  A piece of twine was around the neck and tied in a bow.  The dress was held together with velcro.

They dressed her and then took two pictures of her.  To anyone who looked at those pictures they would think how macabre!  But as a mother, you think oh my God, what could have been!

 I need to take a break from writing this... 

They brought her to me for me to hold.  Her little tiny wrist had a bone showing through... the only thing that keeps me from saying it was gross was that she was my baby girl... MINE!

Bekah was buried on New Years day.  Very hard time.  I thank God that he brought us to our home church.

I went out and bought three baby dolls for my childcare.  One of them I opened and held in my arm all the way home from the mall.  I sneaked the doll under my bed and took her out to sleep with after my dh turned the light off.  This went on for about two months.  The baby doll graduated to the daycare after that.  You find you do what you have to in order to survive.

That was January.  My husband got a raise and promotion in March.  They wanted to move us to Massachusetts for him to be a store manager of a brand new store.  About a month before we found this out I was diagnosed with depression.  Back then that D word was emberrasing to admit to.  Like a mental illness.  How wrong I was.

We moved away from everything familliar and all family/friends.  I think we needed a change of venue but that was drastic.  We lived there for 2 1/2 years.  

We lived in what I call a reverse type of discrimination...  our neighbors were two ladies who were partners.  I thought, mistakenly, that they were so open with their "situation" that they would be open to where I was from.  In so sharing this I had hoped to be in a place that they could understand if I acted or said something, in HONEST innocense, that would upset them that they would know me well enough to understand I would never attack them or put them down.

Well, that was a bust!  The next day we had a letter in our mailbox that informed me that I was no longer allowed to have any contact with them.  Later that day the family on the other side of us, 6 children who WERE playmates for our son, mother called me and chewed me out.  Basically we were shut out for 2 1/2 years.  All because, from my pt of view, they expected me to treat them with respect and understanding for their differences but I was not afforded that luxurey.  Reverse Discrimination.

Our son was picked on because of being an outsider.  The nurse yelled at me and was so rude on the phone.  I later found out it was in front of my son that she spoke like that to me!  *fume*

I called to request a meeting with the Principle and when the secretary answered I told her who I was and asked for her name.  Know what she did?  She hung up on me.  OHHHH! You sooo did NOT just do that!  Anyone who knows me knows that I refuse to put up with rude ppl.  Especially when part of my taxes go to pay their paycheck!

I won't go into what all was said to her other than to say the reason I needed her name was because when I was in kindergarden I learned phone eticate.  You always say who you are and they alwasy say who they are.  I was able to speak with the principle and touched base with her on the nurse situation as well as the receptionist who hung up on me.

What did she say?  "Are you sure you are misunderstanding what happened based on where you are from?"  (*_*)  really?  How do you misunderstand a hang up?  A nurse yelling at me?

At the face to face meeting I informed her that it didn't matter if I were from Texas or MARS!  If I were white or pink with purple and green polka dots!  RUDE IS RUDE in any language!

Yes we came back to Texas after several other harsh things that happened at their hands.

Understand I'm not trying to bash Mass.  It is a beautiful place and we did meet a few nice ppl there.

Just glad to be home.  I took myself off the depression meds.  I guess being pissed at adults for my son's sake shook me out of it.

This is all just back ground.  Explaining who I am.  Putting my thoughts to paper to vent and or understand it all.  


Since the nightmare began I have been led to share this story with other ladies.  Each and every one of them ended up telling me of their loss.  One lady shared with me of how her 3 y/o son died in her arms from pneumonia.  After that she sat in a room in a chair with no lights on for almost three weeks.

She said she had never told or spoke of this to anyone since until I spoke with her about Bekah.

Each time I share this I feel a tiny petal on a tightly closed rose bud open up and takes some pressure off.

Now a parent in my childcare is due to give birth to a daughter.  She is being induced.  When you ask?

December 28th.  My hopes are to take off and be there for them.   For myself.  It's been almost 16 years now and I found out something about myself.  Only just a few days ago.

For the first time in 16 years I'm actually excited about Christmas.  I have a light spirit.  I feel joy.  I'm not going through the motions of doing what everyone expects.  Wow... I didn't know.

I now have a chance to have something joyous to happen on such a bad date.  If anything bad happens?  I've grown stronger with my Father's love.  His guiding hand.  I know that if anything does happen bad that I have the experience that could be of help to them.

As soon as I realized that about myself I realized that I could actually give something back.  I feel led to speak with my paster and surrounding hospitals to see if there is a need of a woman who has been through something that no woman should have to go through.  I wish I had someone who understood to just sit with me.  Listen if I chose to speak.  Just be there for me.  Someone who understood no matter if I screamed at her or wailed.  Maybe...I could give to someone what wasn't given to me.


If this story offened you, I apologize.  If it opened your eyes for someone else's pain, great.  If it throws you a life line?  Thank God my story helped you.

I'm still not sure if I should publish this...I'll need to think about it for a while.  This is the first time I've ever written the whole story out and offered it for all to read.  I feel like I'm taking a risk. 

This also will explain why one of my tag lines mean so much to me.

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Nov. 30, 2010 at 5:33 PM

Thank you for this.That's all I can say over the lump in my throat.It helped me understand a huge part of my childhood,during which time my mother "checked out" immediately following the birth of my little brother,who died during labor.

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Nov. 30, 2010 at 6:30 PM

Wow. Thank you for sharing such an intimate story. I was floored to read how you slept with the baby doll. I think I would have done the very same thing. I think it can help a lot of people by just sharing how you cope. and I am so glad for you to finally be excited about Christmas again.

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Dec. 1, 2010 at 9:49 AM

Oh Wow.  Thank you for sharing such a very personal part of yourself.  It does feel like a risk putting it out there but you will find here on Cafemom there is lots of support plus it is a great way to vent it all out when you need to.   I marked that Yes I have lost a child but it was just an almost.    I could not imagine your pain.  God works in ways we can not even predict that it helps us through.  I think the baby doll was a very natural healing way that may have allowed you to be able let go.  The school put the fight back into you.  My prayers are with you. Thanks for sharing your amazing survival story.

ps..maybe you could volunteer at a pregnancy center?  I think most of them are christian based or you are right the hospitals have some volunteer services..You should call if you feel that is what you are being led to do.

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