How I Transformed Pain into Purpose After Losing My Daughter

Journey of heartbreak to healing

I should be dead.

Let’s backup to 2012.

I was in the eighth month of my ‘healthy’ pregnancy.

One evening, my 2 year old son, husband, and I had finished watching our daughter complete her nightly acrobats in my belly.

It was amazing to see such clear movements as she rolled around inside.

She was a high energy baby and moved around a lot in my abdomen. I knew raising her would be different than our 2 year old son who was physically very mellow and did not bounce off the walls.

Neither did he move around aggressively during my pregnancy.

This baby girl was different -I was going to have to chase her around.

I had pair of good quality runners ready!

That evening, I decided to help my 2 year old go to bed and I ended up falling asleep with him in his twin bed.

A few hours later while sleeping, I recall thinking that I didn’t feel so good followed by my own tired voice suggesting I allow myself to fall back into deep sleep and rest.

Moments later, I heard two firm words aloud in my mind “Wake! Up!”.

These words came from a different place than those self rationalized words. It sounded like my voice, but they came suddenly and with great urgency.

It was so forceful I didn’t question it and sat up immediately.

And it happened…

The worst physical pain I have ever experienced.

I took the few steps to get to our bedroom so I could wake my husband.

I suddenly fell to my knees and I began vomiting violently.

Like really really aggressively.

My abdomen went stiff as a board and if felt like my back was going to split in half. It was a sudden and complete loss of physical well being.

It was in the middle of the night so it was pitch dark outside. I kept urging my husband to turn on the lights in between expelling what felt like all my insides and I could sense him just standing there.

Motionless.

Inaudible.

Why the he** wouldn’t he just switch on the lights!!!

Then it dawned on me, the lights were on and I had gone blind. I had lost my key senses.

I quietly explained to myself “the lights are on….I can’t see”.

I am not one who is quick to call a doctor or seek medical help. As a healthcare worker, I had the habit of self diagnosing and self treatment. Things had to get really bad before I was going to seek medical attention.

This was not a moment for that. I knew something had gone terribly wrong. I asked my husband to call my OBGYN immediately.

I needed to get to the bathroom. Not able to see or walk I crawled my way there by touch and feel through our bedroom.

We reached my doctor and he instructed us to meet him on the operating floor of the hospital as fast as possible. The hospital was typically a 40 minute drive away.

We made the drive in half the time but it was the longest 20 minutes of my life.

I felt so fatigued in the car ride and I just wanted to fall asleep. But that same voice that had screamed at me to wake up came back once again with two new words, “stay awake!”.

I whispered to my husband calmly that I thought I was going to die as I could feel life ‘just slipping out of me.’

Yet I made the optimistic presumption my daughter was fine as they would just have to c-section her out. This was the US healthcare system. They would save her.

It was a race to get me there in time to save her.

We pulled in front of the hospital and my husband grabbed a wheelchair to get me up to the operating floor.

I was taken in and asked to shift out of the wheelchair onto the examination table. As I stepped out of the wheelchair, there was a giant pool of blood left on it.

That was when I felt my first pang of terror that something might not be okay with our daughter.

There were a few nurses trying to get an IV situated in me and they couldn’t get it. I found that odd as I had always had very visible veins and was a very easy ‘stick’ for IV’s.

Turns out that is the case when you still have your blood volume intact. I had lost so much blood that my veins had collapsed and were hard to locate for the IV.

My doctor made it into the room with a portable ultrasound machine and was placing the probe all over my abdomen while the nurses kept trying for the IV.

After a few attempts, he lowered his head and made his statement, “ I am sorry, there is no heartbeat”.

I was stunned and my reply was, “ That’s not good”.

I didn’t believe what he was alluding to. I felt this could be a mistake.

He instructed the nurses to get me prepped and into the operating room.

The anesthesiologist walked in to ask me about the last time I had eaten.

I had eaten prior to going to sleep and he told me that general anesthesia would not be an option for me. I could aspirate under anesthesia.

There was no way I could stay awake through this.

I needed him to put me to sleep.

I needed this to all go away.

I needed to exit this reality at this very moment.

I pleading with the anesthesiologist to put me to sleep assuring him that I had thrown up every ounce of food in my body. I also told him I could not bear to stay awake through this. I needed to be put out.

I saw the human dilemma in him. He paused. Looked away for a second. Then looked back at me and said, “okay, I will do it”. I will always remember him for that moment of mercy.

I was put to sleep on the operating table and the surgery began.

During the procedure, it was realized that I had a complete placental abruption. The placenta, in its’ entirety had separated from my abdomen.

The surgeon was unable to stop the internal bleeding that was occurring and made the call that I was going to die. I had lost too much blood.

A nurse relayed that to my husband and guided him to make any calls that might be necessary for last goodbyes.

That phone call he made to my family would not have been an easy one to make.

Shortly after, a nurse brought out our baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket and wearing a pink hat and handed her to him.

She did not survive. The placental abruption had suffocated her with a complete cutoff to oxygen.

Several hours later I woke up.

What felt like a nightmare was actually real.

This had just happened.

A blood transfusion and a couple days later, it was time to leave the maternity ward.

I watched mothers on the floor being wheeled out by their families with their baby’s in their lap and an aura of happiness around them.

I was wheeled out holding a small pink hat and survivors guilt.

6 days later I carried her coffin to the burial site.

I didn’t know they made coffins so small.

I didn’t know that I could survive this loss.

I didn’t know that losing a child could be so painful.

For weeks after I laid in bed trying to make sense of it all.

I screamed and wept in the shower. Daily.

At night, I could not allow myself to fall into deep sleep.

The moment deep sleep came close, I would wake myself up.

Sleep was the enemy. She had died while I slept.

I learned that the body is an interesting device.

It doesn’t know the difference between birthing a baby that lives or dies.

It goes through all the physical and hormonal post delivery changes.

It gets ready to feed milk to a baby that isn’t there to drink.

It reminds you of what could’ve been. Should’ve been.

I also learned, that I was not alone in this experience.

The inpouring of stories of loss from other women was astounding to me.

Different stages, different details, but loss nonetheless.

I reflected on how much silent grief many women must go through. Only in a moment like this, did it feel safe or reasonable to share with someone. I never would have guessed they had such experiences.

I now understood that the ‘miracle of life’ truly was a miracle.

As I cross examined the ‘why’ and ‘what I could have done differently’ I kept hitting a wall of regret.

I recalled going through an emotionally charged event a couple days prior to all this happening.

I recalled feeling like a victim to circumstances.

I recalled feeling powerless in my life.

I believed I was destined to certain outcomes based upon disempowering ideas that had been fed to me. And I had eaten them.

Happiness seemed unreachable.

But with all this recall, a sudden burst of merciful energy filled me.

I had just lost my daughter and almost lost my own life. This stark realization hit me in the face and a switch flipped.

And I made the choice to change my beliefs in that moment.

Despite this darkness, I realized I had to reclaim my power, not just for myself, but for my son who needed me.

I got out of bed.

I stopped screaming and crying in the shower.

I resumed my studies in my MBA program ( I was headed into the last semester when this all happened).

I drafted a personal plan to lean forward in my life so that my daughter’s loss would not go in vain.

I resolved to live by my values and be a role model for my son.

I knew my daughter would have wanted more for me, and it was up to me to act.

I pledged:

⁃ To take ownership of my life

⁃ To stop giving away my power

⁃ To find my personal connection to source/God; not through the dictation of others

Grief comes in cycles, so my recovery wasn’t a straight path.

It’s likely I am still not fully recovered. But it’s about progress.

My physical body needed time to regenerate its health as did my mind and emotions.

But I had decided that I was going to continue moving forward one inch at a time.

A few months later, we decided to move to the other side of the country for a fresh start at life.

As the years fade into each other, I know that this part of my story has shaped me into the person I am now.

One that is striving to live a life of self love, self empowerment, and self exploration.

I remind myself how fragile life can be and try to stay on track with the important things in life.

I don’t always get it right, but I believe the journey IS the destination.

The goal is to live a life authentic to my soul and not be swayed by the opinions of others.

And, I know my baby girl is with me every step of the way for energy can not be created nor destroyed but it can only be transformed.

She has transformed to be my guardian angel and I have transformed the way I choose to live my life.

We do not have to agree with or condone any acts or events that are outside our control, but we do have to accept them to be real.

Denying their existence is keeping us stuck in the past. The only real moment in life, is the eternal now moment. It is always now.

Everything else is either a memory or a worry.

We remember the past and we worry about the future.

Dwelling in either robs us of the moments available to us in the eternal now. The place where all our power resides - the present moment.

A powerful prayer or affirmation:

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

The courage to change the things I can.

And the wisdom to know the difference.

If you find yourself in a dark place and have trouble seeing the light I am here to tell you:

If you think you can’t do it- you can.

If you think you’re alone- you’re not.

If you think your life doesn’t impact anyone — it does.

If you think you won’t make it out of your tough times- you will.

You have to make the decision to believe in yourself.

You have to make the choice to release your limiting beliefs.

You have to make the choice of taking ownership of your life.

You have to make the choice to accept that which you cannot control and focus on that which you can.

And…. smile more often. Your mind takes cues from your body.

This life is a but a brief moment on earth filled with joy and grief.

No one escapes trauma, but whenever you can, reach for the light.

We cannot control the wind but we can direct our sails.