“My son is dead and buried” – A Guest Post by Lyndie Giles
My husband and I lost our son Greyson at 36 weeks gestation on 7-19-14, born stillborn. I want to share my back ground with you. So bear with me for a moment.
My main goal in life has always been to become a mother. But I wanted to do it the right way. To provide the best life for my children as possible. I got a college education, and obtained a career as a professional hospice nurse. I met a good man and got married. I married a man that didn’t drink, do drugs, that would never cheat on me or hurt me or my children. Then we waited to get pregnant and timed it.
We got pregnant on the first try!!! We were so scared but excited. We did not expect it so quick. Then at 14 weeks, I had a tear in my placenta and was bleeding so heavily that I went to the ER. We thought we were losing the baby. But, the babies heart beat remained strong. I was put on bed rest for a week. Then I developed an abscess on my tailbone twice, had minor surgery that required wound care twice daily.
Some of the worst pain I have ever experience. Then the rest of my pregnancy consisted of a third abscess, fall at work that resulted in difficulty walking for 3 days, my car was hit at work, developed gestational diabetes, suffered from anxiety and elevated blood pressure, but my baby was always healthy at every appointment and ultrasound.
At 35 weeks Greyson was doing beautifully at my ultrasound. I was pulled from work due to increased stress. On a Thursday, 7-17-14, I woke up and Greyson was not moving. After an ultrasound, it was confirmed that my baby was dead. My fully grown, infant in my belly, was dead.
After everything that could have taken him, but didn’t, he died at the end of my pregnancy. They confirmed that it was an umbilical cord accident… the tightest around a neck they had ever seen. It had cut off the circulation to his brain and he had died.
We went home that night and would return the next morning for induction. We drove to a quiet place on the river and cried, prayed and slowly came to accept that our baby was dead. Then we drove home.
I waited in the car as my husband went inside and gently placed all bottles from the kitchen (that I had sanitized and washed that day) and random baby items around the house, into a garbage bag and placed in the nursery and closed the door…. We closed the door to our future we had placed in this baby. Over the next week, many packages came that I had ordered with baby items. They are still in their boxes and in the basement or nursery. I cant bring myself to open them.
I begged my doctor for a c section. I didn’t want to go through the pain of pushing out a dead baby. I felt it was cruel and unfair. But my doctor said “Lyndie, for your health and your future children, please deliver him vaginally.” So I did.
I was induced and given anxiety and pain medication to make it was comfortable as possible. On 7-19-14 I delivered a beautiful son. Who had my lips, toes and nose. Had my husband’s eyes and forehead. He had black, curly hair… But he did not cry, he did not move. His precious skin had started to peel, but I didn’t care. He was still so beautiful.
We held him and loved him for nearly 12 hours. We had professional photographs taken. Because we knew at the end of the day, we would never physically see him again. He would be gone after today. That afternoon, I handed over my sweet infant to the funeral home.
We buried him 2 days later. I stood for an hour while we received hundreds of friends and family. The physical pain from labor was nothing. The emotional pain was immense. God, I only wanted my baby. I didn’t care about the pain in my back and hip, or the excruciating headache from my leaked epidural… I only wanted my baby…. Laying there in the casket.
After the funeral, everything was a blur. I had to continue on anxiety and depression medication. I have panic attacks. The grief is so overwhelming that I cant breathe. I also have moments of rage, where I want to break everything around me… everything seems so petty and trivial.
At first, the support from everyone was such a blessing. But after about 2 weeks, nearly all support stopped. Everyone else had grieved and mostly moved on. Keith and I felt so alone and almost abandoned by most. But, there were several people that stuck by our sides. We couldn’t have survived without them.
Some would come to visit and I would scream internally. I would want to scream “SHUT UP, MY BABY IS DEAD. HOW DARE YOU WHINE OR COMPLAIN…. STOP TALKING…. I JUST WANT MY BABY…. I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE A BABY IN MY ARMS RIGHT NOW… DAMN YOU AND YOUR STUPID PROBLEMS!!!” I realize that most people don’t know what to say or talk about… but internally I was suffering so much.
Im a hospice nurse… how ironically sad is that? A hospice nurse who had a stillborn baby… the ultimate slap in the face…. I have devoted countless hours and sleepless nights to take care of dying patients… and my child didn’t even get to take breath on this earth… so not fair.
However, helping others has helped. Loving on others and being kind has helped me heal. Greyson has really encouraged me to become a better person. I want to be better for everyone around me, my husband and my future babies.
My doctor wants me to wait 6 months, to grieve, but that seems so long. I have an empty nursery that I want filled. I know Greyson can not be replaced… but I want a baby so bad. Im supposed to have an infant right now. Everything seems so pointless and I find no joy in it.
I love fall… I love everything pumpkin. Pumpkin candles, pumpkin coffee… I love the Walking Dead, Halloween and the weather. But this year I am dreading it. Because I don’t have my son like I was expecting.
My future seems gone. Im supposed to have an infant right now to enjoy this time… but I don’t. Im dreading the holidays because I was expecting a to have my son’s first Christmas. But I wont have him..
I also have two sister in laws pregnant and one sister pregnant. While I am so happy for them… seeing pregnant bellies causes me to have a panic attack. Because it reminds me that my son is dead and buried. So now… I am trying to figure out an excuse to stay away during the holidays.
On a positive note. I am trying to reach out to other women and start a local support group meeting. Where we can meet face to face and support one another.
This has been very healing and therapeutic for me. Also supporting the Finley project has been a blessing. Mothers who have experienced this trauma and tragedy need so much support and love… we need to love on one and another. Our babies would want us to.