I knew this day was coming

Today was THE day.

I got the hospital records today.

I was looking forward to this, but still I was quite nervous to know what they said, too. Our family doctor requested the records for me a few weeks ago and today I picked them up.  She took a few minutes to read over some parts with me.

According to the records our baby (Ella) may have been as old as 30 weeks. . . .wow. . . that was really hard to hear. I'm not sure how that would be possible based on her size, but I suppose if she wasn't growing that could explain why she was so small.  She probably wasn't any younger than 26 weeks.

It was strangely comforting to read the records.  I mentioned in a previous post that even though I held Ella for what I thought was a long time, I wish I had held her so.much.longer.  I was grateful that someone from the hospital took the time to examine her.  I don't know how long an exam like that takes, but it meant a lot to me that someone spent that time with her.  We requested that they not do an autopsy, we felt like her little body had been through enough already.  So they did a Gross Examination - which means they recorded everything they could tell about her just by looking at her, no cutting.

I learned that:
* the two placentas were fused together
* the cords were inserted in different positions, one in the center and one (Ella's) more on the side, I think.
* she had no birth defects
* there were no knots in the either cord
* she was a little swollen and red
* she had all her fingers and toes ( I did hold her long enough to know that myself, I was just glad someone else had documented that)
* she was 15 oz.
* she was 12 and 3/4"
* her skin was very, very delicate, wrinkled

There are more things I learned. I wrote them out but deleted them. Ultimately I felt they were too personal to share.

It's funny, but it made me feel better to know that she had no birth defects, and had all her fingers and toes.

Also, I know that what I saw, and what the pictures show isn't who she really is.

When I close my eyes and imagine what she looks like, I see a happy little girl about three or four years old with curly blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and a big smile on face with a handful of freckles sprinkled across her nose. She's spinning around in a little dress and it's like my brain is using that camera setting that makes all the edges blurry. . .  do you know what  I'm talking about?  That is how I picture her in my head; little, happy and beautiful.

The Angel Garden

While I was recovering in the hospital Ryan and my dad went to visit a local cemetery to see about burial arrangements for Ella.

Ryan wrote this post about his experience:

When we found out what happened with Ella our Bishop made some calls to funeral homes in the area, and he found one that told him that they had an area designated as the “Angel Garden” and that the total cost would be about $500. Traci’s dad and I made an appointment to go visit with them. We planned to stop in, chat with someone briefly, then see the Angel Garden and finalize everything. In my mind I pictured a nice, serene place, perhaps in the middle of the cemetery or along a tree-lined area, with a white fence around it and a beautiful sign that said “Angel Garden” with perhaps a statue and a few stone benches for parents to sit on as they visit the gravesite.

 We met with the funeral home director and she had obviously been trained to talk really slowly and try really hard to be empathetic, because she would talk so slow and say things such as “Oh…I am…sooooo…sorry for your loss…” and “This must be….so…difficult….I am soooo……..sorrry….for your loss.” She proceeded to, slowly, go through some pricing, and it turned out the $500 was only part of the fee. At one point she excused herself and said someone else would be in, and it was the cemetery director. She had additional costs, such as a tombstone and some other fees. In the end it was going to be about $1500 and we had spent over 90 minutes there. I asked a few times if we could see the area, and she would say “we can do that at the end.” Finally when we were almost done I said “I would really like to see the area – can we do that now” and she reluctantly said we could. 

We walked out together on the main road within the cemetery that runs parallel Business Loop (the interstate) and after we walked about half a block she said “This is it.” I looked around and said “Where?” She pointed to a small area on the right side of the road we were on, to a grassy area next to the Business Loop. 

I looked at it and it was full of junky, broken toys and had some weeds in it.

 She said that it is a difficult area to maintain, because they don’t feel that they should ever move the toys, so the caretakers just have to weed whack around them. 

I asked if they ever cleaned up the toys once they get broken and she said no. 

I asked where Ella would be buried, and she pointed to a spot that had some toys on it. I asked why there were toys there, and she said that families aren’t required to get a headstone in that area, so there are a few unmarked graves, and one of the moms was certain that her child was buried there, even though the cemetery showed her that her child was in a different spot. 

The Business Loop is busy and I asked about that – she said they put up a temporary wall during services. Not too far from the area are bars and tattoo parlors, along with grocery stores, car lots, etc.

 I walked away from the whole experience feeling sick – the whole thing just felt wrong. Traci’s dad and I talked about it quite a bit as we went throughout the day. He felt the same way I did. I discussed it with Traci and the thought of putting Ella there did not feel right at all.

This is Traci now:

It was a very hard decision.  We had concerns about burying Ella there. 
* What if we ever move out of the area? 
* Would we feel comfortable going to that part of town to visit her grave? 
* It would be heartbreaking to leave her there in an area of the cemetery that doesn't seem to be maintained.
* It just seemed so wrong to bury this innocent little child across the street from a Singles Bar.  
* Wouldn't we be sad to see other people's broken toys strewn all over the area? (YES!!)
* What about the traffic?
* What about the weeds?




What we wanted was a 

peaceful, 

quiet, 

beautiful place 

of dignity for our baby  to rest.



This was not it.




We could not leave her there, but we had to do something.  

But what choices are there?


We talked about creating a memorial for her in our yard, about making our own beautiful Angel Garden.  Maybe a child's sized bench with a plaque? Maybe a little statue of an angel or a fairy.  What about a special bush or tree?  What about a swing-set as a memorial? What about a balloon launch?  We liked all of these ideas.  

We had this vision of a beautiful, peaceful, happy place, like what Heaven would look like for a child.


And we also have something else that is a great comfort (in addition to Emma).  We were given a very special gift from the hospital.  They provided us with a beautiful, lavender,  rice paper box with keepsakes for Ella.

We had the sweetest nurse I've ever met. 

She so sweetly bathed our Ella, carefully dressed her in her itty-bitty clothes, and took some very special pictures of her.  

She put Ella's tiny clothes, 

her little hats,

her seashells, 

a bracelet, 

and photos 

in the box for us.  




* This we COULD take with us. 
* This was beautiful.
* This was dignified.
* This was clean.
* This was personal.

After thoughtful conversations with my husband, he and I decided to have the hospital help us take care of Ella's body. 

And now we don't have Ella, but we have the box.

I am so glad we have that box.  It sits on a shelf in my closet. I know right where it is.  We have that and it is so much more dignified than a weedy plot next to the Interstate.