It seemed appropriate to follow this up in her birth month.

If you didn’t read Part 1, you can find it here.

It was late. I truly don’t remember the exact time — just that it was dark when transport took her.

You also have to remember we had Tyler. He was 2 at the time, so he still needed to be taken care of. And I had just had a C-section.

Jeremy had called our parents earlier to let them know we were going in for the emergency C-section (I think). I just know his parents came to the hospital for a quick minute and then took Tyler home. I know he called my mom and she said, “Should I come?” That just shows my mom. Anyway.

Jeremy looked at me, and you could tell… he was done. He had worked all day, then got a call at work that I was going into an emergency C-section, and then he was in the room when they took Emily. He said, “I love you, but I have to get out of here.” I understood and wasn’t mad at all.

My mom stayed with me. I stayed up all night rambling.

They had said they didn’t know if she had vision issues. I remember saying, yes, I could handle if she was blind. But I also said I didn’t know if I could handle if she had severe mental disabilities. Sure, that probably sounds mean. I get that. But it was honest. I had Tyler to think about too. I rambled and rambled to my mom.

They called me when they arrived at Children’s.

At one point I tried to remove my own catheter because I was leaving and going to Children’s. That was… a moment. Like a whole moment. Someone — I don’t know who — gave me Ambien through my IV to try to get me to sleep. Spoiler: it didn’t work.

When she got to Children’s, that was a whole thing too. Actually, everything was a whole thing.

They had to assess her and run tests. They called one of us — I honestly don’t remember who — and said that on the first assessment it looked like she had a “cocktail” of chromosomal abnormalities. We were told she was on life support.

Jeremy came back to the hospital. Spoiler: he didn’t sleep either.

We talked about everything. She was on life support, she wasn’t expected to live, and we both knew we would not want to live on life support ourselves. We were told we could call and have the life support removed. So we did.

Then Jeremy decided he wanted to go to Children’s and be with her. She shouldn’t be alone.

Remember, all of this happened in probably less than 12 hours.

So he left for Children’s. I stayed at the hospital — the dumb hospital — because I didn’t have a choice.

We could have left her on life support so I could go see her, so other family members could see her. But that was not something we wanted to do. We didn’t want to prolong it. If you think that choice is wrong, that’s fine. Live it first, and then we can talk.

As Jeremy was driving to Children’s, I got a phone call. They said they would not remove her from life support if Jeremy was there by himself.

Are you kidding me right now?

I tried explaining to the doctor that he was already on his way and that Jeremy wanted to be there alone. Jeremy’s dad had offered to go with him, but Jeremy said no. He needed to do it himself. Eventually we talked the doctor into it and said if they felt at any moment that Jeremy needed someone, they could call us and we would send someone.

I had people at the hospital with me, and I checked in with him often.

From what I was told, she was in the NICU. Jeremy held her the entire time. The nurses would sneak him granola bars because he refused to leave.

We delayed removing life support for a bit because they asked Jeremy if he wanted her baptized. He said yes. But it took forever for the preacher to get there. Jeremy later said if he had known it would take that long, he probably would have said no.

When you deliver a baby and the baby dies, apparently the hospital hangs a leaf picture on the door so nurses know.

Someone from Jeremy’s work sent flowers. They knew I had gone in to have a baby, so they assumed everything was normal.

A nurse walked in with this cute pink bouquet in a pink baby-block planter and said, “Congratulations on the baby girl.”

I threw the remote at her.

Like… I actually did.

Those remotes are huge. It broke. I’m pretty sure I got billed for it.

The next nurse came in and apologized. That and the catheter situation were my only two outbursts.

Emily passed away in Jeremy’s arms about 19 hours after she was born.

She got nine months with me, and she got her last hours with him.

Once someone dies, you have to figure out what happens next — where the body goes, the funeral, the service. They don’t just hold the body while you “figure it out.”

I had no clue how any of that worked. Jeremy handled all of it. Like truly. He did every piece of this alone.

When he came back to the hospital, the change in him was obvious. He was still sad, but he was lighter somehow. He explained everything to me — what had happened, what arrangements were being made.

He had these little ceramic hearts that had been rubbed on Emily. One was cremated with her, and the others were given to Jeremy and me.

Children’s Hospital was also really good about saving everything she touched — her blood pressure cuff, the mattress, the bottle of baby shampoo, little diapers (unused), a hairbrush. They even took pictures and made a scrapbook. Jeremy told me we could pick it up whenever we felt ready.

We never had a service for her.

It didn’t feel right. No one really knew her — they knew of her. That’s different. And honestly, I don’t think I could have handled it. Those 19 hours were the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. Then to face another full day of people saying “I’m so sorry” over and over… I don’t think I could have done it.

We didn’t have an autopsy either. It was determined — how, I’m not totally sure — that she had Trisomy 13.

Most people know Down syndrome, but it is also called Trisomy 21. This was the triplication of the 13th chromosome, which affects early development, tumor suppression, and copper metabolism. In simple terms, it meant she had a lot of things working against her.

I stayed in the hospital just one night — the night she was born. They let me go home within 24 hours after the C-section. They were probably ready to get rid of me.

And when you go home… that’s a whole new battle.

But we can save that for Part 3.

Apparently this turned into a trilogy.

Again — did this suck?
You have no idea.

But we got through it.

What no one tells you is that the real battle doesn’t happen in the hospital.

It starts when you go home

xoxo amber g