By: Nikki Grayson
Angel Wings and a baby hat; black and white photographs and a little blue blanket; nurses to cry with and a doctor to share your fears with.
It was one year ago on a Monday morning when I walked through the double doors of the OB floor. As I followed the nurse to my room, the tears began to flow as the reality of the situation continued to sink in.
I had had the weekend to try to grasp and grieve what the previous Friday had thrown at me; but I don’t think any amount of time could have prepared me for the days ahead. How can you grasp the fact that your 16 ½ week baby boy’s heart had stopped in your womb? When two days before, you had heard it beating perfectly.
How do you make it through when you have to give birth to him, knowing you won’t hear his first cry and that you will not be able to take him home?
I quickly learned that I would make it through with the helping hands of my nurses and my doctor.
In the moments I felt weak, they were strong. When I needed advice, they gave it. When I cried, they cried with me. Even more importantly, they provided me the strength to get through and hope for the future.
When my baby was born, my husband cut the umbilical cord. One of the girls had made Angel wings for him, and my delivery nurse quickly sewed the baby hat small enough to fit my son. A nurse went out of her way to come in and take pictures of our sweet boy, and my friends made sure that he had his own little blue blanket. They made sure we went home with a certificate of life and our baby boys itsy bitsy feet and handprints.
As a nurse myself, these girls made me strive to be a better nurse; to care more deeply for my patients and the desperate situations they endure.
They stayed positive for me when I couldn’t find the positivity I needed. They were a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on. These girls truly walked by my side through one of the darkest valleys I’ve endured.
The loss of a baby is a trial that should never be experienced alone. We need to hear kind words, and we need someone to hear our cries, and ease our fears. These nurses and doctors who provide this can truly shape our experience. Just as our babies leave footprints on our hearts, so do our nurses who care deeply for us and for our loss.
About Nikki Grayson
I am a mom to 5 babies lost through miscarriages, the most recent one being my son at 16 weeks pregnant. I am a nurse, and I live with my husband and two dogs. We love to take walks, ride four wheelers, and do anything that involves being outdoors! I want others that are walking this journey of infertility and pregnancy loss to know they are not alone.