Someone who loses a spouse is called a Widow.

Someone who loses their parents is called an Orphan.

There is NO SINGLE word someone is called when they lose a child. There is a Sanskrit word used sometimes: Vilomah, which means “against the natural order.” Pareavor is a word created by the group Grieving Parents Sharing Hope. The word describes parents who have had their child “ripped or torn” from them by death.

October is Infant Loss & Awareness Month, with the day being the 15th. The colors of their remembrance ribbon are pink & blue together—one color on each side.

These are things most people don’t really know. It is all stuff I knew right off the top of my head. No Google search needed.

Here is Emily’s story.

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April 16, 2007. Normal day. Jeremy is at work, Tyler is running around like a wild child, and I’m HUGE pregnant lol. I was due May 3rd. So I was big (I gained 50 lbs with each pregnancy lol).

When you are pregnant, you are supposed to do kick counts. It’s where you take like an hour out of the day and count how many times the baby kicks. You’re supposed to get (I think) 8 kicks an hour. When you’re toward the end of pregnancy, you feel EVERYTHING. Baby is running out of room, getting bigger, so kick counts are easy.

I noticed Emily had slowed down moving. But no biggie, she’s sleeping, chilling, saving her energy to be born, right? But I lay on my side, drank the juice to amp her up, and she only moved about 3 times in an hour. I called my OB and he said, “You are towards the end, head over to OB and be checked.” Cool, no biggie. Well, except it’s just me and Tyler lol.

I call Jeremy at work. If I remember correctly, he was headed to a fatal crash in Highland County involving a small child who was hit on the road. So I left a message with him, packed up Tyler (who was 2 at the time), and headed to the hospital. Which was just like 5 blocks away. But off we go.

There are things about this day I remember 100%. Like they are happening in real time. And there are certain things I don’t. Tyler and I walk into OB, go in the double doors, down the hall (which is a peachy pink and white color), turn left, and go to the very last room in the hall on the right. It had big windows on two sides of it. I had toys for him, but I 100% forgot snacks, and I feel like I didn’t have diapers. I didn’t expect to be there that long. They put me in the bed with my back to the windows. They hook you up to the 2 monitors on your belly, clip on your finger, all the stuff. Things are beeping, and I’m just hoping Tyler doesn’t unhook anything.

The OB staff is beyond nice. Checking her, checking me. Jeremy still isn’t there; he can’t very well just up and leave… which is fine. This is our life. I’m beyond thankful for our Highway Patrol family. A friend from the patrol, Jennifer, came and sat with me for a long while, until delivery actually. I don’t remember when she showed up, but I’m forever thankful for her. But we aren’t there yet.

My OB is called and updated, and the nurse—who had brown hair and wore glasses—comes in and says, “The baby’s heart rate is dropping when you have contractions. Your doctor thinks we are going to deliver today via c-section. So we are going to move you over to a delivery room.”

Um, wait, what? Huh?

I wasn’t scared of the c-section, but I kept saying, “No, I’ll cough her out.” Tyler was 8 lbs 8 oz, and I had no trouble getting him out. They had said Emily was smaller. So I was like, ummm… why?

At this time, Jeremy still wasn’t there. The post secretary, Rhonda, walked over to the hospital and grabbed Tyler for me. Let him hang out at her house (Mamaw Rhonda is what the kids called her). They moved me to a delivery room. Looking back, it’s weird because I wasn’t delivering lol. Anyway, I walked down the hall I was in, turned left, and was in the 2nd room from the double doors.

I’m now in the big delivery room, getting officially hooked up to everything, intake, etc. They need to prep me for an emergency c-section—where’s Jeremy, do we call our parents… it was a lot. By now, dispatcher Jennifer had come to hang with me. Jeremy got there, my OB came in.

I can see him perfectly. Light blue scrubs, standing at the end of my bed. “Every time you have a contraction, her heart rate drops. I’m not worried, I think your body is just done being pregnant.” He starts to head towards the door. I double checked: “Are you sure everything is ok?” He holds on to the door with it open and says, “I think your body is just done being pregnant.” That was it. Ok cool.

Jeremy is kind and tells me he’s going to walk Jennifer to her car (it’s late by now). She was pregnant at the time too. She jokes about making sure you count the fingers and toes. Jeremy: “It’s funny, but you really do count them.” This will come back to haunt me.

I don’t remember how I got into the operating room. I remember with Kaci. But I don’t remember with Emily. I don’t remember how I got an epidural. I don’t remember anything really until I’m strapped on the bed. They put this curtain up above your belly so you can’t see them cut you open. Jeremy is on my right, the anesthesiologist is on my upper left, arms are out wide like a T.

I remember every minute of Kaci’s delivery (c-section also), but I don’t Emily’s. I have flashes. They start to cut me open, my OB says, “She has some abnormalities, I’m going to show you and then she has to go.” He holds her up over the curtain. I truly don’t remember seeing her for more than a few seconds. She had a cleft lip is all I remember. I remember trying to sit up, and then I woke up in the recovery room. I woke up alone, shivering and hoping it was a bad dream. Jeremy walked in and I knew it wasn’t. I could tell.

A nurse came in—I don’t remember anything she said. I don’t remember how I got to the post-delivery room. I remember hearing Jeremy’s parents’ voices from the hall. I do remember saying, “Don’t let Tyler see her.” I just didn’t know what was going on, so I didn’t need everyone knowing everything before me.

Once in my post-delivery room, it was fast. Jeremy was there; they said they had to send Emily to Children’s. I remember them saying the team was on the way. Once they got her ready for transport, I could see her and ask questions.

They wheeled her in an incubator thing for transport. I put my hand in the little hole and touched her hand. I feel like I asked a question, but I don’t remember what. It was fast. I saw her MAYBE 5 minutes total her whole life. And they took her to Children’s.

She passed away 19 hours after she was born, from Trisomy 13. I’ll dive into all that later. This was long enough. Just know that I’m ok. It’s ok. Did it suck? Yep. But we came out ok and good on the other side, promise.

Share this with someone who you know may need it.

xoxo amber g