Thanksgiving Day.

Thanksgiving Day – November 24, 2016. This was the day that I was admitted into Labor & Delivery. The day that changed everything. This is honestly the most difficult, painful and traumatizing experience to talk about and a piece of me still feels like I am trapped in that place… In that hospital, waiting for everything to be okay, waiting to take my baby girl home. Flashes of our stay sometimes cross my mind and it hurts my heart and crushes my soul, literally… I can physically feel that pain and it is a constant reminder of the loss of our baby girl. And although this is difficult to write about, I want to educate about my diagnosis and I want to continue to tell Brooklyn’s story…

Incompetent Cervix. Hourglass Membranes. That is what the diagnosis was. And after my years of nursing experience in the ICU and IR, I honestly did not know too much regarding the world of Labor & Delivery.

The cervix is the opening to the uterus (womb). It opens, shortens and gets thinner and softer so the baby can pass through the birth canal during labor and birth. An incompetent cervix, or cervical insufficiency, occurs when your cervix opens too early during pregnancy, usually without pain or contractions. It contributes to premature birth or the loss of an otherwise healthy pregnancy and happens in only about 1% of pregnancies. As a result, it is not routinely screened for and therefore is not usually diagnosed until the second or third trimester. The cause can be due to previous trauma to the cervix during a surgery, damage during a difficult birth, previous premature deliveries or a malformed cervix – none of which I had. The most common cause, however, is idiopathic or unknown, which was my cause. My doctor informed me that you are often not diagnosed with it unless it is luckily caught in time or it has occurred in a previous pregnancy, but this was my first pregnancy and my cervix was normal during my 20 week appointment. Hourglass membranes is when there is a complete bulging of the amniotic sac (fetal membranes) through the cervical canal that give a hourglass type appearance. It poses a high risk of rupture of membranes.

I was placed in the Trendelenburg position where I was flat on my back with the foot of the hospital bed elevated about 15-30 degrees higher than my head… So if you could picture it – my bed was tilted upside down, on my head, with my feet in the air to allow for gravity to help prevent my membranes from rupturing. I was placed on IV fluids, antibiotics, tocolytics (medications used to suppress premature labor), and a rescue cerclage (cerclage: procedure in which a placement of stitches is used to sew the cervix shut) was attempted by the high risk OB. Everything had happened so fast that morning… One minute everything was fine and the next we were rushing to the hospital. And although we had gotten there quickly, I understood how serious this all was… I knew it was bad when the staff came rushing into my room after the ultrasound. I knew it was bad when they consulted the high risk OB and he called my cerclage attempt his Hail Mary. I knew just how bad it all was and could be… But we had hope. We had faith.

As a nurse, I understood the important role we play in our patient’s and their family’s life. We are caregivers, advocates, healers. Being a nurse is who you are. I understood all of these things as a nurse, but had never received it on the other end as a patient. We had nurses who we loved, who truly took care of us, in every sense… Nurses who went beyond their job, who prayed over my husband and I. I now know what and how much it all truly means… I will never forget them and hope to one day thank them in person. There was a Nurse Practitioner who was incredibly compassionate… She explained everything in detail. She made sure to remind me each day that no matter what happened, it wasn’t my fault – something I couldn’t accept but needed to hear… And I will never forget how she convinced me to allow our closest friends and family to come visit us… I, at first, was not sure that I wanted anyone at the hospital as it was a very stressful time, but she reassured me that having their support would be a good thing and she was absolutely right. My OBGYN had been my doctor for years. The day after the loss of our daughter, he sat with us on and off throughout the day. He apologized… Even though he had done everything he could. He sat with us as endless tears streamed down our faces. He patiently listened to each and every question and explained as best as he could. And he gave us hope that he would one day, when we were ready, help us get the family that we so deeply desired. His presence during our raw, agonizing pain and his hope and determination to help us become a family was comforting… The true definition of what a physician should be.

Our friends and family. Their presence and prayers did not go unnoticed by Marcus and I. Very few people knew that we were in the hospital. But those few were all that we needed. They showed up. They were there without us even having to ask. And just your presence alone during someone’s time of need means more than you could ever know. Acknowledge their pain. Don’t run from it. It may be uncomfortable and you may not know what to say (and that is okay), but walk through it with them.

My husband. He is my absolute best friend and partner in life. After nine years, there was so much love between us that had continuously grown over the years. And I knew I loved him, but I didn’t know just how much that love would grow even more. As I laid helpless and afraid in the hospital bed, he took care of me. In every way possible. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. He shaved my legs, brushed my hair, held my hand and wiped all of my tears away. When I could do absolutely nothing, he was strong. When I was falling apart, he was the glue that was holding us together. He was there, right beside me, every single time when I would wake in tears at night… Calming my nerves, reminding me to have faith. His faith gave me hope and his love gave me strength. And the love I saw he had for me and our daughter made me fall even more in love with him than I ever dreamed possible. And this love that we share for our first child bonds us for life.

…But despite many endless prayers and our doctors’ best efforts, my water broke on Monday, November 28, 2016 and Brooklyn Naria Johnson was born on Tuesday, November 29, 2016 at 8:38 pm at 22 weeks and 3 days. She was the most beautiful baby girl we had ever seen and everything we had ever dreamed of… She passed away that same evening in our arms. It is a nightmare that we were forced to live and continue to live each and every day. A nightmare that brought us immense, unbearable pain. A pain that I never knew existed. A pain that broke me and left me in ruins. And that pain has stayed with me and has changed me forever. It is so hard to live our life without her. And although we don’t know why this happened, I do know one thing… I know that God chose me… He chose me to be your mother… And my life has been made greater because of it. You opened our hearts and our world, you made us parents. And this deep, endless, torturous pain is just a reminder to me of how much we LOVE you… And that is love, not loved. I have realized that this journey will never end, but I don’t believe it is supposed to… Because our love for you will never end…