Contractions started coming every 5 minutes, pretty strong. Then they moved up to every 3 minutes. I tried to sleep, but obviously couldn't. I took a bath, and contractions got stronger. The midwife came to our house to check me around 9:30am on the 4th. I was upset to find out I was still only at 1cm dilated. Her heartbeat was strong and steady. That whole day I continued to labour at home, as they only admit you when you're 4cm so I had no other choice. Walking around, moving around on the exercise ball, and wondering how the heck I was going to survive labour if those "strong" contractions had only gotten me to 1cm.
The midwife came to check again around 5pm. Still only at 2cm. This time she had a hard time finding her heart beat. She found it eventually, but it was faint. The midwife said she was likely face up, and that's why labour wasn't progressing, and it was hard to find her heart rate. My blood pressure had gone up significantly, so we all headed to the hospital and expected to stay there until she was born.
On the way there, we pulled into the underground parking and I said "The next time we leave here, we'll have a baby girl with us." I'll remember those words forever.
When we arrived, they hooked me up to the fetal monitor and couldn't find her heart rate. I could tell by the reactions in the room that something was wrong, and I began to feel anxious. They brought an ultrasound machine into the room, and the OB said "I'm so sorry." I burst into tears and kept saying "please don't leave me, please don't leave me." I'm still not sure if I was saying that to Derek or Brooklyn.
Last week, on April 5th, Brooklyn would have turned 2 years old. The days leading up to her birthday, all of these details repeated in my head. The 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th were especially hard days for me. The details of the hours leading up to my labour and delivery, remembering the excitement and anticipation of new life, and then the devastation of finding out our firstborn had died. All of it felt so fresh this year.
Last year Brooklyn's birthday fell on Easter, and Aubs was only 6 weeks old, so we were pretty distracted. We still celebrated her birthday, but it didn't feel as intentional or real.
Aubs and I made cupcakes together, with purple icing and mini eggs on top. The day of Brooklyn's birthday, the three of us went to the flower shop and picked a flower for her. We brought them and went to visit for a little bit. Then we had lunch close by in Dundas together. It felt nice to celebrate her as a family, and it was so special to have Aubrey involved in "helping" me with cupcakes and getting to pick a flower for her big sister.
It still feels surreal that she's gone. It feels wrong that she never took a breath on this earth, and was so very close to being born before she died. I still question the events that happened the week leading up to her death. I still kick myself for not being more aggressive in demanding that something be done when I had a feeling something was wrong. But when you're told that everything looks great, even after fetal heart rate tests, you trust your care providers. I think part of me will always be angry that my concerns weren't taken seriously, but I also know that in order to move forward, I need to let some of that go. I do however think that I can use our experience for good. To inform people to listen to their instincts, to fight for the care they think they need, and to switch care providers if they're not aggressive in advocating for their needs. To tell people not to feel like their concerns are crazy or they're being overprotective and anxious. Mama knows best.
March was a busy month for us. We found out baby #3 is another girl! I'm feeling really excited about Aubrey getting the opportunity to have a sister so close in age to her. But yet again, find myself mourning the oldest sister that should be here, a part of the "Hisson-sister trio".
We also moved from our very first home, to a new home on the Hamilton mountain. This was harder for me than I thought. Once we moved out, we still had our old house on Stanley for a couple of weeks. The last time I went back to clean and knew I wouldn't be back again, I stood in the nursery and cried. That home holds so many memories, both good and hard ones, and it is the only place that Brooklyn was ever physically present (inside my belly of course.) I hadn't thought about this reality until we were leaving. I had another good cry on the stairs as I sat there thinking about the days after we came home empty-handed from the hospital. That house will always be so special to me. It's the place that holds the deepest feelings I've ever experienced - both joy and devastation.
I know we will make new great memories in our new home, but it will never be the same as our first.
If you had asked me April 4th, 2014 where I would be two years down the road, I never would have imagined that we would have a sweet, loving, fiesty little girl, and another one on the way. We continue to walk this journey of missing our sweet girl, while learning who we are now and how to move forward without her.
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