Most of this was written at the hospital between 2 a.m. and 10 a.m. after we met Owen. I couldn't sleep and had my phone so I wrote parts in between an hour here or there of sleep. The next day I added a bit more and Austin helped to make sure it included everything he wanted it too as well. I don't know why but it was like I had to get it all down to remember it all and it felt like the right thing to do for Owen and it made me feel better and has continued to do so. It all happened to quick, so I'm glad we'll have this.
Preparing to give birth was the last thing on my mind. Austin had gone to work. Me and Beckett had our grocery list. I told myself I was overreacting to my stomach cramps which were just round ligament pain. I told Beckett we would go see her baby and then go to the grocery store. We didn't have an appointment but were squeezed in quickly at 9:30 a.m. The midwife didn't hear his heartbeat on the fetal Doppler but said not to worry - my heartbeat may be interfering; they immediately rolled in an ultrasound machine to see the heartbeat. Me and Beckett saw him on the screen - it looked like he was moving around like usual. But he wasn't. He was there and his heart was there but it wasn't blinking, the sign of life. She told us, then another doctor confirmed it - we had lost our baby and no one knew why.
Austin came as soon as he could; Devon did, too. She helped me pack while Austin took Beckett to the playground, then Devon stayed with Beckett while we headed to the hospital to meet Owen 20 weeks early knowing there was no chance of seeing him alive even for a second.
Almost 12 hours later, we delivered Owen Hendrix Martin at 12:36 a.m. on October 22, 2014. He is the tiniest baby - a whole baby but so small, his head not bigger than the circle my thumb and pointer make when making an 'ok' sign. He has 10 little fingers - long like mine, and 10 little toes. He has Austin's teeny nose and favored Beckett in several ways. You could see the start of our family's dark hair and Austin and Beckett's shaped eyebrows. He is beautiful. They crossed his little arms, one over the other, and the first thing we all said was how peaceful he looked, almost like he was smiling, truly. He felt like a soft squishy baby human, but was so quiet.
I was so eager to hold him after delivery my heavy epidural leg fell off the bed hitting the floor with a loud thud - it was the ice breaker we all needed. I was so Mrs. Potato Head with these limbs I couldn't control and didn't even know the loud sound was my leg – I thought some machine had fallen. Laughing didn't feel wrong or disrespectful to Owen, it felt like a relief and let's be honest - we laugh so much together as a family and he has heard us. He's heard us read books and sing songs. He has participated in our dance parties. He is probably sick of the ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ and ‘Frozen’. He went with us to Auburn and Athens and the lake - some of our favorite family places. He heard the love - he heard our family - his Aunt giving him all of his cousins clothes and gear; his Gigi and Mimi shopping for him so eager to spoil our special boy; Beckett practicing "baby" with her dolls to help take care of him, hopefully that was relaxing and not fear-inducing! He heard our doggies - he would have loved them like his sister. He heard our friends always checking on him and asking how we're feeling. He knew, beyond a doubt, that we loved him - he heard the nursery preparations and the name decision making and felt us respond excitedly to his kicks - even Austin got to feel his little kicks. He heard our doctors, midwives and nurses at each exam caring for him - his sister went to his exams, even his last. We know he knew he was loved and we wish he could have lived another 20 weeks so we could show him that love and so he could meet his family who couldn't wait to meet him.
The name Owen was on our potential names list. When they suggested we name him we immediately withdrew from the idea thinking it wasn't for us. Then we changed our minds together - we wanted to do all we could for this little boy. He only had us, this 20 weeks. This was his whole life and he deserved a name and he deserved to be seen. We looked at our potential name list and I read names out loud - Austin immediately reacted to Owen. I did, too. It felt right. I said it sounds like 'oven,' our sweet bun in the oven who lived his whole life inside me. Then Hendrix was in the list and it just suited. He is such a little baby boy Owen.
I didn't have them throw Owen on my belly after delivery like they did Beckett. It didn't seem right - he seemed too little and needed more gentle handling. And I was scared – I wanted Austin to see him first and tell me it was okay. They cleaned him and wrapped him in a towel and I got to hold him - our baby boy. I will never get over how pleasantly surprised I was to see this teeny baby - not scary - just a red, sleeping, peaceful baby with his tiny eyes shut - so vulnerable. I will also remember how bruised his little heart was - purple. I kept thinking we are heartbroken, too, Owen. I talked to him and told him we loved him and how sorry we are that his life ended too soon. Austin held him - he looked so proud of him, but so sad for him, and Owen looked especially small in Austin's arms. We took turns holding him and talking about him and marveling at this little baby boy who just didn't make it - we told him we were ready for him and just so deeply sorry he wouldn't get to experience life in our family. Instead he had a pass straight to heaven. He had gone to church with us almost every Sunday and we knew he would be safe and loved and cared for, just not by us. And that hurt but healed so much.
We cried hard. For him, for us, for our family, for the sudden change that went against our hopes and plans. We don't know why this happened and may never know. We have been reassured it's nothing we did or didn't do. They are running a series of tests on my blood, Owen's body, and the placenta, and will run genetic testing. This all may result in nothing and we are at peace with that as it won't give Owen life.
I don't know how I feel. I cry a lot. I wanted everyone to be wrong. I swung rapidly from thinking of all the things I may have done to inadvertently cause it to feeling foolish for having his nursery so close to completion. Austin struggled with how this is such a private matter, but yet public - something we would need to face as we told our family, friends, co-workers, neighbors that he was no longer with us. I struggle with feeling sorry for myself, feeling like I carried him for 20 weeks, some weeks harder than others. I was visibly showing and cheerfully telling all, strangers included, about our boy due in March. I got an epidural. I was induced. I gave birth. But yet we left the hospital empty handed. This is the hardest pill for me to swallow and makes me want to have a tantrum and say "that's not fair."
We will heal. Holding Owen and spending time making sure we knew that he knew he is loved helped. Feeling so much support from our family and friends has helped. Talking to the nurses and bereavement staff and Chaplains at the hospital helped. Having one of our pastors visit and lead us in a prayer for Owen helped. Getting to see Beckett will help; caring for her in a happy, positive environment where she's not worried about mommy and daddy is essential to us so I'm sure the necessity of maintaining this will help. Knowing, deep down, that we didn't do anything wrong and that Owen wasn't healthy and will feel better in god's hands vs. ours will help. Now I still want to blame something and I want him here with us and I want to be pregnant with him and meet him in March... But I know that breathing deep and reminding myself that Owen will be cared for and trying to focus on the blessings we do have will move me along. I can tell it's going to take a lot of time. I can feel my body resisting moving on and wanting to stay in a negative place and wallow and blame and be counterproductive. But I have faith that we will all move on and me and Austin have been in sync with everything feeling closer than ever.
Pictures didn't feel right. We can't explain it but they didn't. We talked through it and neither of us could wrap our brains around remembering him that way. What did resonate with us was prints. We had his hand and footprints taken and intend to frame and place them in our room. We also had a private cremation so he can always be with us. We want to remember Owen and this feels right for us for now. Will help us remember what a tiny treasure he was.
The nursery will be taken down when we're ready. The crib and double stroller will be returned. It will all happen and it will be hard but we will be okay.
Writing this helped. I want to remember as much as I can. I want Owen to have a story, however unfairly brief it may be.
.PNG)
