The Things You Would Have Said

Dear Moms and Dads With Empty Arms, 

I was a Labor and Delivery nurse, who also worked in the Special Care Nursery for many years, before retiring. And after more than 30 years, it now occurs to me that some things may have been left unsaid when a baby was born dead, or died shortly after birth. I want to say some of those things that Moms and Dads experiencing this terrible loss might not have heard, but maybe needed to know. If you are still grieving, I hope this gives a voice to whatever pain you are still feeling, whatever you needed to hear and understand, and that it helps you heal and find some peace. Miscarriage, fetal demise and early childhood loss are some of the most painful types of loss.

In the unit where I worked, we delivered around 1000 babies a year and sadly, not all survived. Those were the difficult days, but those were the days that gave a different meaning to my work. Those tiny preemies–babies with serious birth defects, those that were choked by an umbilical cord wound tightly around the neck, too tight to allow brain development, those with deformities not compatible with a longer life, or those too early to survive, and so many more things that may or may not have been anticipated–were given respect, warmth, sometimes holding, talking or singing to them and even prayer.

Frequently, it was my job to stay with the babies because of my many years in the NICU before transferring to Labor & Delivery. It was a mixed blessing. I felt honored to represent the parents, to hold or cuddle the baby, to keep accurate notes, to do what would be important to me under those circumstances. They look so fragile, one can actually see the tiny blood vessels in the skin, the soft spot on the head as it pulsates, the labored breathing, and occasional little twitches. Sometimes they are perfectly formed, but just way too tiny and at other times they are larger, but have some serious problems such as immature lungs or incomplete brain development. There are many reasons for still birth or early demise: from too premature, a knot in the cord, a fibroid tumor on the uterus where the placenta might attach to genetic problems such as downs syndrome, or the trisomes.

Knowing why doesn’t change things, yet most people want to know what happened and if they can prevent it from happening again. And almost all feel guilty, questioning every little twitch, stumble, even wondering if having intercourse during pregnancy could have caused it. Of course we talk to them and try to reassure them that they didn’t cause this tragedy, but acceptance sometimes takes years. And many couples end up divorced some years later or sooner, which then gives them more pain and guilt.

What I want to tell you - parents and siblings and grandparents of the little angels that didn’t make it - is that we cared, we even loved, we tried to make them feel comfortable, warm, safe and cherished for whatever little time they had on this earth. We also wanted to help the moms and dads when we could, when they let us, but what they really wanted was their baby, and we couldn’t give them that. I truly hope that knowing your baby was cared for gently and lovingly, and even loved by the nurses, helps if only just a little. And when a tiny, suffering baby took his or her last breath we cried, too.

Although this letter is addressed to the moms and dads, I know the grandparents and siblings and even aunts, uncles, and cousins experience great sadness at the loss of a newborn or miscarriage , and might benefit from knowing their baby was not alone at the time of death. As our methods of caring for the parents and babies changed over the years, many were able to be with and even take their last breaths in the arms of a mom or dad, or grandparent or aunt. 

I wish you love, acceptance and finally healing.

Sincerely,
LMG, age 65

To you who feel you are not succeeding in your life:

It had been years since I had met anyone that I thought had done extraordinary things with their life without having selfish motives. I looked at Fat Cat ball players that hold themselves out as role models for children. I have met countless politicians that say that they are interested in serving the public. Meanwhile they make a lot of money and enrich themselves.

At one time I was a counselor on medical unit for V.I.P.’s in a large urban hospital. It was my job to meet and comfort the prominent and wealthiest individuals in the community: multimillionaires and billionaires. Every time I would meet these men (the vast majority of them were men), they would say, “Get the —- out of here. I don’t need a counselor.” From experience, I knew better. 

I just kept visiting them: several thousand wealthy individuals in total. As they became ill, many of them died suddenly. Yet most had the same progression in their illnesses that we do. The slow gradual decline from cancer, heart disease, and stroke. I knew what was about to happen. Same as with any sick person, they felt increasingly isolated by their disease. Unlike most people, as they grew sicker, they had fewer and fewer visitors from family and loved ones. Inevitably, without exception, each and every one of them went on to say, “Where the —- is everyone? I built this company and made them rich. How come they are not here?” I just kept on visiting. 

Most had several failed marriages. The fourth spouse and the kids from the first three marriages were usually not very interested in visiting. It was me that would come in on my days off and stay late in the evening to the hold the hand of these men as they died. Without exception, those that lived for more that a few days would say to me, “I did not understand my life at all…I would give my entire fortune for one day to live my life differently.” I was the only one present when they died.

I thought I understood what they meant, but I did not until I met you. The truly magnificent heroes are not the titans of industry, but the workers. They are all of you that I have met. Many of you can barely walk. You go to work to support your kids. You put up with the grief your bosses or customers give you, then struggle when your lover leaves and you raise your children alone. All of you know that know the value of each moment of your life. You who joyously give up your precious health, all that you have left. You happily offer your best to your children and family and expect nothing in return. Thank YOU, my heroes. 

Mike, age 60

Dearest Niece,

I did something years ago that I wish I could have taken back. I think it altered our relationship forever. I feel so incredibly guilty but even more so because I have never brought it up to you. It may not have had the effect that I now think it did, but it does lay heavily on my mind. 

When you were in high school, you came home for the holidays and I was visiting your family. You and I were in my car going to McDonalds for some food. We were having a discussion about relationships and got on the topic of why I was not married. I think I said something about how I just haven’t found the right man yet. Then you asked me what I later think was a really important question and I don’t think I handled it well. You asked me if maybe I just wasn’t into men (or something like that). I am very proud of myself that I didn’t act appalled or angry. But I did say something to the effect that “no, I was very much into men and that is what makes it so hard — there are so few of them.”

What I should have done rather than answer in that way was to ask you why you were asking, asked you if you were into men, asked you SOMETHING as a follow-up because I think you were on the brink of coming out to me and I effectively shot you down. I have this notion that you were looking for a Lesbian mentor and, not finding it in me, it weakened our relationship. I should have made it safe for you to come out to me. Instead, I think I made it more difficult.

It took four more years before you came out to the family and me. You and I became more distant, which in part I assign to you being a college student, but I know that night I did something to alter our relationship forever.

I am sorry and I hope that this letter helps to mend some fences.

Your aunt, age 55

Dear Michael, 

My heart breaks every time I think of how suddenly that aortic aneurysm took you from us. You were only 40. I was told you were at the doctor’s office where you worked. You called for transport to the hospital because something didn’t feel right. You were an EMT so I guess you knew. You called David, our brother, to meet you at the hospital. He was the last to speak with you before you went into surgery. David called me and our youngest sibling, Cynde. We lived four hours away from our brothers. Cynde was able to go up that night but I had to wait until the next night. I went in to see you when I got there; you were already on life support. I touched your hand, I cried, and I begged you to stay with us.

You were so still. I spent that night at David’s house. I can still hear him sobbing and calling out to you from the other side of the house. Cynde has never been the same. You and she were closer in age to each other than to David and me. My children, your only niece and nephew, adored their Uncle Michael. Jennifer wishes you were here to know her son, Andy. He’s almost four now. Chris had a Sacred Heart and the date 05-06-04 tattooed on his arm. We have all been cheated of many years with you. You were a wonderful brother and uncle. I pray that there is an afterlife and you have joined Mom and Dad and maybe someday I will see you again. 

It is so hard to accept that you not in this world with me. I can’t believe that I will never hear your voice on the phone saying, “Hey, girl”. I feel robbed of the plans we had to someday visit the Aztec pyramids and to wonder if our ancestors touched that stone or played on that grassy area. I wish I could turn back time to tell you to go get a scan or something before that aneurysm stole your life. I want to hug you again, to laugh with you, but mostly I want to tell you how much I love you.

I miss you.
Your older sister,
Noni, age 60

Dear Tatiana, 

Where do I begin? We had such high hopes for you while the doctors didn’t. When they diagnosed you with Trisomy 18, they claimed that it was “incompatible with life”. To be honest, I was scared to meet you. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to love you after looking at pictures online of babies with this genetic disorder. I shouldn’t have been so scared. You were the most beautiful little girl to ever be born onto this earth. When I got to hold you for the first time, you were so very tiny. It was amazing that someone as small as you could be alive. Your mom and dad were so brave and loved you so much. They took care of you every minute and loved you more than I’ve ever seen anyone loved before. You were so tiny and you fought so hard.

We didn’t want to believe that you would not be with us for long. We knew you were a fighter and that you were different from other cases that we had read and heard about. You were our Tatiana, our little bug. Nothing could happen to you; you’d grow older with us every passing year. We wanted to teach you to walk, talk, play sports and music, read; we wanted to teach you everything. 

Holding you was always so scary and exciting at the same time. I was afraid that I would break you somehow. Since you had trouble breathing at times, we had to make sure your head and neck were in the right positions otherwise you’d start to turn purple-y. I didn’t want anything to happen while I was holding you because I’d always blame myself if something ever happened to you. I always loved to tickle you and listen to you make your babbling noises - for such a little girl, you definitely had a lot to say!

When you turned six months old, our family was so excited. We threw you a birthday party because we didn’t want to think about if you would make it to be a year or not, so six months was a major milestone for you. You looked so adorable in your birthday dress. We were all so proud of you, Tati. You had been such a fighter for those six months.

You were even able to smile and laugh, something the doctors never thought you’d be able to do. They seemed to think you were going to be some kind of empty shell. After meeting you, I’m pretty sure you had the biggest personality on this planet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more genuine smile than yours. I doubt I’ll ever see a smile that comes close to yours.

I saw you for the last time a few days after Christmas. I hope I’m not the one that got you sick. Your body couldn’t handle it. I had a cold and I should have stayed away. I’m sorry. I knew when I got the call from my mom to go to the hospital that this was it, this was the goodbye. I’m so happy I got to tell you one last time that I loved you. When we all left the room to give you some alone time with your mommy and daddy, you were gone twenty minutes later. That was the worst night of my life. Our world was shattered.

We’re currently in the Outer Banks, a few miles away from where you got to be in your mom and dad’s wedding. We’re always thinking of you. Your two older brothers miss you so very much, your pictures are everywhere. Your younger cousins ask about you and love to look at pictures of you. I wish you could come back and give Grandma some cuddle time. She loved to hold and kiss you. Your aunts and uncles miss you too, Tati. We talk about you all the time and celebrate your life.

I wish you could see how much your mommy and daddy have missed you. Your mom is the strongest person I know and I am so proud to call her my aunt. They love you so much, Tati, you were the world to them and more. I know they would do anything to have you back. 

I wish I could tell you again that I love you. I never got to say it enough in your eleven months on this earth. I have a tattoo for you on my ankle, Aunt Kimmy and Erin have matching ones on theirs. It was the least I could do, give a part of my skin to your memory. You’ve helped me come closer to God, my family, and recognize what my life calling is. I wish you could have seen how many people were at your funeral, for someone so young and small you touched hundreds of hearts.

I believe that God took you so soon because you were one of his most precious angels and he missed you too much. You were here with our family for only a short amount of time, and you taught us a very important lesson. You have brought our family together in ways that I never dreamed of. We live each day for you and while our family seems so full of love, there is a big part of our family missing. You were the light of our lives for almost a year, and your absence is felt every minute of every day. 

I like to think that the ladybugs I find around are you coming down to visit, little bug. I feel you here.

I love you more than words can say, and thank you for all that you have given us. See you on the other side someday, Tati.

Love your cousin,
Brianna, age 20