Child Loss is not anything anyone EVER wants to talk about. At least those that have never dealt with it. There is a fear or stigma that if they do it’s a real thing. Well…it is. It’s probably the most real thing I have ever experience or felt. For those of us that have experience child loss, we want to talk and want to hear our child’s name, every single day.

Where our Story begins…

In the Winter of 2011 I found out we were expecting baby #3. You know when you’ve already been through a couple of pregnancies, you kind of relax a little and enjoy things a bit more?

I was there.

I was taking care of myself, everything was going well. We thought it might be fun to take our other two kiddos to see their new baby brother or sister in the ultrasound so we planned to take them. The day of our ultrasound came and our usual tech Barb called us back. Barb and I had chatted so much in the past. She literally was there for my other two pregnancies and had become an “inner office” friend at my OBGYN’s office.

“Something is wrong”

She sensed our excitement and began small talk with the kids and then, she changed. I’m not stupid. In that moment, I knew something was terribly wrong. Her “I’m going to get the Doctor to take a peek” comment set off all of my alarms.

I’m sure some of you reading this can relate. I’ve met so many moms that have received a scary diagnosis in utero. For us, we were told something was wrong with her heart and unfortunately, they didn’t know the extent. We needed a specialist.

We’re blessed to live within driving distance to The Cleveland Clinic. It became our home away from home for the next 16 weeks until our sassy Sophie joined us.

In Cleveland it was determined that she had a complete, balanced a/v canal defect. She had 2 holes in her heart so big, it created one large one right in the center of her heart. We were blessed that this was fixable.

Just like that, she was here…

Memorial Day weekend was upon us and I was 36 weeks pregnant. I got off the couch to use the restroom and my water broke in the bathroom. When I stood up, there was blood everywhere. We called 911 and with lights and sirens blaring, we rushed to our local hospital. 40 minutes later, she came SCREAMING her way into this World. Sophia Isabella, our third child.

Guys, she was stunning.

She was ours.

She was alive.

Immediately our little girl was whisked away to the NICU. My doctors worked to stabilize me, I had just had a complete placental abruption and getting the bleeding under control was key.

Sophie thrived through the night and did fairly well the next day but within 36 hours of birth, she was intubated and struggling. Our team from Cleveland Children’s came and flew her to Cleveland.

It was upon arrival in Cleveland we were told that she also had a severe coarctation of the aorta. To put it simply, her aorta was kind of like a bendy straw and it was preventing blood flow to her other organs. She was already displaying signs of kidney failure.

For 2 weeks this tiny little brunette who had our hearts entirely, fought like hell to survive. In the early morning hours of June 11th, 2012 our daughter, Sophia Isabella slipped away to be with Jesus. Whispers of “I love you’s” and “I’m sorry’s” sent our daughter into Heaven that night.

After her passing, we held her for the first time since the day she was born without wires, machines or IV’s and said our goodbye’s as we took in her scent over and over and promised ourselves that we would never forget it.

Post Loss

It’s been 8 years since that night. Yet at times, it feels as fresh as it did then. The sting is the same but the moments of overwhelming, uncontrollable grief have ebbed. The still come, don’t get me wrong but I can now get through a drive to the store without losing my shit. Sorry, but that’s truly what it would be.

I’m not here to tell you it’s going to be ok. Instead, I can tell you it’s going to be different. You will feel joy again, you will be able to think about your child without the tears coming hot and heavy. You will smile again. It just takes time.

For me, I had to feel it. I remember my OB asking if I wanted anything to help me out (antidepressants, sleep aids). I was so low and full of sorrow. Looking back I remember thinking to myself, “so this is what it feels like to be empty.” I declined, then cried for months every night when I went to bed, in the car as I drove, in the store as I shopped, at my desk at work, in the shower (you get the idea).

8 years later

Here we are today. Sophie should be here with us but she’s not and her absence is felt in every single thing we do. After 8 years, I’ve not gone 1 day when she hasn’t crossed my mind. Child loss taints every part of your life, every day. I think it is because we loved so deeply so naturally, it cuts so deeply.

This blog is for bereaved families because in many ways, of course we are like everyone else. In many ways however, we aren’t. We take time every Sunday to visit Sophie at the cemetary, we have our weird quirks and traditions to keep her as a part of our family and her memory alive and we have moments still that take us to our knees. Child loss is not something anyone ever gets over.

If you’re here because you’ve experienced a loss, we are so very sorry. We hope you’ll stay and connect or find some small takeaway that gives you peace or let’s you know, you’re not alone.

To hear more about our story, you can visit our YouTube video here: https://youtu.be/drNo6bGMGDM