Meeting My Son for the First Time

SHOCK!  I had just learned my baby boy had passed away. It not only changed my life forever in a mere millisecond, but it changed the whole atmosphere around me. The baby bed was removed from the room. The nurse said I could get an epidural when I was ready. We would be inducing labor eventurally she said. How do you want to see your baby for the first time? Do you want to have him placed on your chest or taken away to give him his first bath? Are you ready yet to induce labor? I am hearing all the questions. Answers are being expectd.  But all I can do is watch myself going through this moment by moment.  I feel nothing.  I barely feel the pain of the contractions.  I must deliver my baby and he has passed away. I will not hear his cry as he is birthed from my body. He will be silent. I am scared. I don't know how to experience this. I have no choice.


My doctor and the nurse were as compassionate as they could be in the situation. But all I could hear was the instructions. I did survive the delivery of my silent baby. It was relatively a painless experience and it went quickly. I closed my eyes as I pushed him from my body. My husband looked and said he could see his head full of hair. I couldn't look. I was scared. I did not choose to place him on my chest. I regret this now. But I was so scared. I wasn't sure what to expect. So I did the best I could do in the moment. I asked that he be given a bath and then I would be ready to meet him. The delivery was over. I survived it. I was being stitched and taken care of by the doctor. It was so quiet in the delivery room. The silence as deafening.


Waiting to meet my son for the first time took awhile. How was I ever going to be ready to look at this face?  I knew I would be saying hello only to say goodbye. About an hour passed by and somehow I mustered up the courage and asked to hold him for the first time.

They brought Seth to me. He was wrapped in a footprint blanket. He had a hat on his head. I felt the weight of him being placed in my arms. It felt so good as he was placed in the cradle of my arms.

I looked at him for the first time. He was beautiful. I mean he was absolutely beautiful. He was perfect in every way. I could not stop looking at his face. He looked just like one of my babies. Of course he did he was my son. He had 10 fingers and 10 toes. He weghed 7 pounds and 6 ounces. He was 19 inches long. Everything about him was just as it should be except for the fact he was not breathing. He laid limp in my arms.

I began asking the questions...why? I don't understand. Can't you see him? There is nothing wrong with him? Why did he die? I don't understand. Please explain this to me. He is perfect. Can't you see? There is nothing wrong with him....this just doesn't make sense.


I touched his cool skin. I don't know what I expected. He didn't open his eyes. It looked as though he was sleeping. I was touching him, exploring him. His skin looked white and too big for him. His nails were red. His lips were burgandy. Is this what death looks like? I don't know. I just see my baby. Look at his chubby cheeks. Whose little nose does he have? Can't he just wrinkle it for me just one time so I can be sure? He has gorgeous brown hair. There isn't a lot of it. Just enough. Feel how soft it is  Look at how big his feet are. His fingers are so long. He fit so comfortably in my arms.


I held him. I kissed him. I smelled him. He was my baby. I couldn't see death yet. I didn't want to let go. I knew I had to let him go. It was time to move to the next room. Where was the next room? Oh please don't let me go where the mommies have their crying babies. My baby is so silent.


I somehow found more courage to let go.  I let him go.I sent him away with the nurse.  I did not know if I would ever see him again. I was in such shock. I was watching all of it, but I could not feel myself participating. I felt void inside. This cannot be happening. Maybe when I move from this room they will bring my baby to me....breathing. I must move on now.


I got to my room. They gave me a sleeping pill. I fell into a deep sleep. I so desperately wanted to stay there. I only wanted to wake up if the nightmare was over. But I woke with an incredible pain in my heart. It was real! My baby died. My baby died. My baby died. I started to cry. The tears rolled down my face. I was going home today without the baby I had held within me for nine months.


Thankfully, the hospital I was at has a grief program that went into motion immediately. The grief care nurse came in to meet with me. She said that she didn't think I should go home today. She told me to stay.  She told me to see my baby again.  She told me to hold him again.  She told me to study him.  She told me to try and remember every detail of him.  She told me to take some pictures of him. 


So for the next day and a half I did just that. I held Seth. I introduced him to my other children. I held Seth. I had pictures taken of him. I held Seth. We had a name ceremony. I held Seth. My friends came to see me. My mom came to see me. I insisted they hold Seth. I talked about Seth. I held Seth. I cried. I laughed. I held Seth. I rocked Seth. I put lotion on his body. I held Seth. His body was so cold that it was striking. It is a sensation I can still feel against my chest. It was our moment. It was our dance into a memory. I loved Seth. I finally built up the courage to tell him goodnight.


The next day it was time to leave the hospital. I would leave my son forever. I held him one more time. I closed my eyes and I tried to forever etch in my mind this little boy. I once held him in my womb. I now held in my arms one last time. As I pressed him against my chest I tried to memorize the feel, the cold, the weight of his little body. The tears streamed down my face. I breathed in the moment. I kissed him. I let go.