We checked into Novant Hospital in Charlotte around 11pm that Saturday evening, like I said, still oddly hopeful that my doctor would tell us something different. Unfortunately my exact doctor was not on call at the hospital that evening, but luckily the next most amazing doctor was – she was this calming, kind spirit and I just knew she’d take care of us. She proceeded with a ultrasound, and told us “Unfortunately I do not have any different wonderful news to share with you, I’m not getting a heartbeat either.” There it was, reality. The reality that we had lost our sweet precious baby boy at 30 weeks and they had no answer why. How could this happen? We we’re in the home stretch, I was healthy, he was healthy, what is going on? They prepare you for this to happen early on, just get through the first trimester and you’re safe … never imagining that you’d be faced with something like this in the third trimester.

So call me naive but I was still in shock, that I thought in these circumstances there’s some magical procedure to deliver the baby since he was not going to be responsive to a natural labor process. But the doctor and nurses began to prepare me for what was going to happen next, that I would be given pitocin to induce contractions and to get me fully dilated and that I would go into labor and deliver him vaginally. Still thinking where’s that magical procedure that knows what I’m going through emotionally, that I cannot even begin to imagine going through all of this physically, knowing the end result is not what we had prepared for all these months? The doctor explained, as hard as it is to imagine going through labor in these circumstances, that in the long run, I’m much better off to recover quickly from a vaginal labor, then talking about surgery where the healing process is much longer. So I had to wrap my head around the fact that I was going into labor and would be delivering our lifeless sweet boy. They urged me to wait and start the pitocin in the morning after the traumatic day we had, and by now it was almost 1 in the morning and they didn’t want me to be in pain the middle of the night if the contractions started. So they gave me an ambien to make sure I got rest before I started the long process of inducing labor so early. Now I have taken a few ambien in the past, and that crap would knock me into another loopy comatose universe … but all the thoughts running through my brain, it barely made me drowsy.

Sunday morning came and it was time to start inducing me, giving me the max dosage of pitocin. The whole day was just a fog of laying in a hospital bed, with my husband next to me on his hospital couch-bed, us just crying to one another, still not believing that this was our reality. Periodically a nurse would come check to see if I made any progress being dilated, it was a very slow process and was only feeling contractions every now and then. By 11pm that night I was almost 4cm dilated and the contractions were becoming more intense, so I opted to start the epidural process. The insertion of the needle just to numb your back before they insert the epidural is no joke, I squeezed Jon’s hand so tight, my thumbnail left a permanent mark on him. I felt the cool sensation of the medicine traveling through my spine, and shortly there after the numbness set in. They explained I could dose myself as needed with the press of a button if it started to wear off, and it doesn’t allow you to overdose yourself. I felt relieved that through the night, I didn’t need to press that button.

When I woke Monday morning, the doctor came in and wished me a Happy Birthday, which I had forgotten. I was still feeling pretty pain free, except from the periodic vomiting – part caused by the epidural, part anxiety and the other part not having anything to eat since Saturday. I was checked in the morning if I had many any progress dilating, nope still hanging out around 4cm. Mid afternoon, I started feeling intense pain on my right side, so I finally decided to press that button to get my next epidural dose. The nurses said it would take about 10 minutes to feel anything kick-in and that I could press that button 3 times within one hour. After 15 minutes the pain was becoming much more intense, so I pressed it again hoping for relief. Another 15 minutes passed and my entire left side was the most numb it had ever felt, while my right was in excruciating pain. We called in the nurse to let her know the situation, that I had given myself the 3 extra doses and was not getting any relief on my right side. They called the anesthesiologist to come check and make sure the epidural was still inserted correctly, saying sometimes it can get shifted. He said everything looked fine on his standards, so he just upped the dosage. I felt some immediate relief once he injected the extra dosage, so the nurse came in to check on me and said I was almost 7cm dilated and by the evening it would most likely be go time. Well things progressed pretty quickly from there, the epidural was wearing off all over at this point and I was feeling a lot of pressure on my lower half. I expressed these feelings to the nurse, and she was certain it was just because I was feeling a lot of pain and a hour ago I was only at 7cm, but I asked her to check again, sure enough I had progressed to 9cm and I knew it was go time. They called the doctor to prepare for delivery but they still wanted to wait until I was a full 10cm and that my contractions were regular.

By now we had a different doctor, still not my doctor, and not the angel woman we had upon being admitted. He was this older, tall, stoic gentleman and we were told by every nurse we would not have a more experienced doctor taking care of us, but he lacked the tenderness we needed in a situation like this. While I was certain it was indeed go time because I could now feel everything, the doctor literally just sat in the chair in our delivery room waiting, and I had to tell both him and the nurses, like this is really happening. So then the doctor checked me and instructed me that he was going to break my water, I did feel a gush like they talk about in the movies. And then he said, you probably were more dilated than we thought because your water was pressing on your cervix, so he sat back down in his chair. A few minutes later, I said, “Are you sure? Because I’m still feeling A LOT of pressure!” So he checked, and sure thing I was finally dilated the full 10cm. I’m not quite why sure no one in that room believed me, I know this was my first time at it, but not only was the epidural completely worn off but I just knew it was time.

The whole labor is forever ingrained into my brain. Most women say they can’t remember much, because once it’s over you have the euphoric feeling of holding your sweet baby. This was not our case, so I remember every push, every drop of sweat and every feeling. He was breach, so the first few pushes were the most difficult. I was pushing with all my might but not getting anywhere. Everyone kept telling me I was doing great, but I felt so defeated. I held my breath and pushed with all my might, but again feeling no progress. Also, because a baby who is alive has the instinct that it’s go time for them too, and they know how to get out, our sweet boy had already lost his life, so he didn’t have these instincts, it was all up to me. I continued pushing with everything I had, the doctor had to assist because of how breached he was. Eventually with a few more pushes, he was out. Silence filled the room. We didn’t hear what we had anticipated over these 8 months, the first big baby cries or the doctor saying “he’s here, he’s beautiful!”  Just silence as they whisked him away to the nearby bassinet. I looked up at Jon, both our eyes filled with tears and we just held one another in that moment. He kissed me and told me how brave I was and how great I did. I certainly did not feel any of those things, I felt depleted. I began shivering, drenched in cold sweat and wondering if they had any answers why. As I could see in the corner of my eye the doctor and nurses examining him in his bassinet, I couldn’t look over quite yet, still fearful of what I might see.

The doctor said upon examining him that he was quite the perfect and healthy baby boy: ten fingers, 10 toes and completely developed for this stage of life. He said upon delivery is when he knew what went wrong, it was the umbilical cord. His cord was wrapped around his neck 3 times, causing him to suffocate and pass in my womb. So we got our answer “why” but it doesn’t make it any better, and it certainly won’t bring him back. Of course my initial thought was, “did he suffer?” Imagining a tiny baby getting caught in the one thing that is giving him life, is what killed him. And my next thought was, surely all my stress that week at work is what caused him to get tangled. So of course I asked it again, “Did my stress or excess movement cause this?” We we’re told unfortunately cord accidents are more common than anyone would like to admit, and also nothing causes them and nothing can prevent them. Our doctor explained it truly is a freak accident, the baby is surrounded by so much fluid in there, constantly turning and flipping, that majority of the time they are just lucky not to get caught, but he wasn’t one of the lucky ones. So any increase or decrease of my movement had no effect on him, and once it happens, it happens so quickly that it cannot be prevented or saved. Because I literally felt him kicking Friday night and Saturday morning I felt nothing, and Saturday afternoon is when we found out. I just wanted something to blame, and it might as well have been me. I was supposed to keep him safe and my womb ended up his tomb.

Baby Boy Hurtt was born on May 23rd (sharing his Birthday with mine) at 5:09pm, he weighed 3lbs 4oz and was 17 inches long. And those next few hours are the ones I will cherish for a lifetime, we got to hold our perfect son. It was striking how much he looked liked Jonathan, their noses are identical. He has his beautiful caramel complexion, a full head of hair, also long and lanky just like him. Then both sets of our parents, his grandparents came in and got to hold him and spend time with him too. We were also fortunate enough, through a charity called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, a professional photographer came in and documented these memories for us. And that professional photographer just happened to be fellow wedding industry friend, Julie Staley from Old South Studios. How lucky were we to have a familiar and comforting face in such a heartbreaking time. So now these memories are even more forever with us, because we have his picture to always look at.

After a few hours, the grandparents left to give us our last moments with him. We were then transferred from our delivery room, into a recovery room at the hospital. We brought with him us and passed him back and forth to one another, soaking in all the moments we could, holding him and kissing him for one last time. Around midnight we knew we had to say our goodbyes, so we did, the hardest goodbye we’ll ever have to say. My one thought at that moment and still to this day is, what color were your eyes sweet boy? And if only they could have locked eyes with mine …