Arin, A Story of Joy and Loss
Arin's adorable foot prints given to us by the nurses at the hospital.
On February 9th, 2019 I took a pregnancy test. I was actually in a hurry for my period to start that month since I was supposed to start an IUI cycle with the fertility clinic. But, my cycle did not start on time, so I took a test. After the allotted five minute wait time, I saw the second pink line and literally said out loud "Holy S***!" It was 6am on a Saturday and Brandon was still asleep. I hurriedly woke him up and told him the good news. Since I had been disappointed in the past with early miscarriages I tried not to get too excited but we did celebrate that day by attending a "Sweetheart Festival" in Loveland, CO, since it was only a few days before Valentine's Day.
Fast forward a few weeks to my 8-week ultrasound. I got to see the adorable little images of my growing baby and hear the heartbeat for the first time. I literally cried in the doctor's office hearing those beautiful quick beats. So happy to have good news.
The twelve and sixteen week appointments also went well. No ultrasounds for those appointments, just a Doppler reading which was still picking up a strong heartbeat, so my doctor had no concerns. Since we made it past the dreaded first trimester, we decided to finally tell friends and family the good news. We posted the picture below on social media, as a nod to our love of board games. We even purchased the two children's games pictured to celebrate. And I wore the t-shirt below to church and school as my announcement since it was around Easter.
All was going well until the 20 week ultrasound. The initial ultrasound was with a generic x-ray tech. We went in so excited and told her not to share the baby's gender. She started the ultrasound and immediately got quiet. She did not talk much throughout the procedure and asked us if we were in the medical field. We said no, and she just keep looking at the images. She never told that something was wrong or really explained much about what we were seeing and she didn't print out the images for us. She finished and told us to wait until she confirmed the images with a doctor, only to later tell us we would receive a call from the OB department later that day. We left feeling concerned and with questions but not really knowing what was going on.
Later that day we received a call from the high-risk pregnancy department saying that we needed to come in ASAP, as they were very concerned for our baby due to a lack of amniotic fluid. Unfortunately this was on a Friday, so we had to wait until Monday to come in for another ultrasound. I spent the entire weekend worried and concerned, but not really understanding the gravity of it all. I had no idea what to expect and could only pray for the best.
Our bump picture from that weekend, hoping the baby would be okay.
The doctor at the high-risk department that Monday told us a bit more about what we were seeing during our ultrasound. Basically there was very little amniotic fluid surrounding the baby. This is the fluid that the baby creates themselves, literally by peeing out the liquids it digests. The main purpose of this fluid is to help the baby develop its lungs during weeks 16-20. The doctor told us he also could also see an enlarged cyst in the baby's belly, which he assumed was the bladder. He told us the baby's bladder might not be emptying properly, causing the lack of amniotic fluid. We were told that most likely the baby would die seconds after birth since the lungs were not able to develop in the way they needed. But, we were encouraged to go to a more specialized doctor for a second opinion.
A few days later we were at the Colorado Children's Hospital for an MRI, a third ultrasound, and a fetal echocardiography. Since ultrasounds depend on the pulses radiating from the fluids inside the body, we could not get very good images due to the lack of amniotic fluid. Thus, I had a MRI to attempt to get some better images of the fetus. Following several hours of testing, we were sat down in a room with at least a dozen doctors, nurses and medical students to go over the findings. Although our baby's heart was developed and beating strong, the rest of the baby was not, including underdeveloped lungs, enlarged kidneys and bladder, and a lack of genitalia, among other fetal anomalies. There was no medical intervention and nothing we could do at that point would help our baby.
We were given three options:
2) Induce labor and deliver the baby early - this option would be expensive and include spending between 12-36 hours in the hospital.
3) Have a Dilatation & Evacuation procedure, basically a late term abortion, which is done under anesthesia.
When you're given three absolutely crappy options, it's a seriously difficult decision to make. We immediately reached out to our pastor for guidance. I remember he told me, "Emily, you have to just pick the least shitty option." After hours and days of crying and deliberation I chose the D&E procedure. What ultimately encouraged me to make this decision, was that I wanted to keep labor and delivery special. I did not want the trauma associated with this pregnancy to follow me into a potential future pregnancy, and this procedure also carried with it the least amount of risk for my own health.
The downside to this choice was not being able to see and hold our baby, as the procedure is done while the patient is under anesthesia. So, the only images I have of my baby are the footprints at the top of this post given to me from the nurses at the hospital, and the ultrasound profile of the baby's head from the Children's Hospital.
We decided to name the baby Arin, spelled this way as it is gender neutral. Even after the three ultrasounds, and an MRI, doctors were not able to confirm a gender, due to a lack of developed genitalia. The name means "with the strength of a mountain." We liked the meaning of the name, more than the name itself. A constant reminder that yes, we can make it through this pain and grief and hope for a better future.
Following the procedure I had about two weeks of recovery. It was painful to walk for several days after, and my milk came in which made my breasts large and uncomfortable. It was also just a crappy reminder that my body was meant to care for this child, but yet the child that was painfully taken away from me. I just had to wait it out until the milk dried up.
We did ask for the hospital to do a genetic test on the fetus as an attempt to determine a cause for the anomalies. However, the genetic test came back normal, and we were finally told (over a month later) that our baby was, genetically, a boy. We still have no concrete answers as to why we lost our baby. Unfortunately something happened during the development and growth of the fetus that blocked the bladder from releasing fluid, which caused a downward spiral in many other areas of the baby's development. It was nothing we could control or change, and nothing we can necessarily prevent from happening again.
We planted a rose bush in Arin's name at our church and had a small service with our pastor to bless and honor Arin's short life with us. We still water and check on the bush every time we go to church. It feels good to still be taking care of Arin in a way. He recently bloomed again this year, which was a nice reminder that he will always be with us. Brandon and I also got matching tattoos with Arin's name and an image of mountains.
With our pastor after planting the rose bush - Arin's is the smaller white one.
Our memorial stone with Arin's rose bush blooming again this past May.
My tattoo, Brandon's is located on his upper arm.
I love and miss my little Arin every day. I am constantly thinking about how old he would be, how he would be growing, how our life would be different if he were still here. B and I take a daily walk around our neighborhood and every time I wish we had our baby to push along in the stroller with us. It's been a tough year on me mentally, dealing with postpartum depression and anxiety. I appreciate being able to talk about Arin to other people, but it's a weird subject to bring up casually in conversation. If people ask me directly, I am an open book, but I know that most people just want to avoid the subject probably hoping that will protect me in some way. But it's constantly on my mind, and I appreciate when people acknowledge that Arin was real and important and check in on me.
Despite the grief and the pain, Arin is a part of my story now, and always will be. I am still a mother, even though my child is not physically here with me. I found this quote about grief that really resonates with me and has helped me, at least a little bit, to be at peace with this loss.
"Grief I've learned is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go." -Jamie Anderson
Em
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