We now have an angel.

This post certainly fits the 'My Family' part...but not at all the 'My Funny.'  We have lost our baby.  For the past twenty weeks, our entire lives revolved around this baby and how excited we were about having it, so this is not an easy thing to write about (nor read, I suspect), but it is our story and writing is therapeutic to me.  Nobody's making you read this, and I don't honestly care if you do or not.  I wrote this for me, so that I could always remember everything that happened.  Hopefully, this will be my only un-funny post ever, but life is life so every now and then, I have to write something that's so real that it hurts. This is it.  (Also, it is very long, but there is just no shortening reality.)  If you do choose to read this, I hope it helps you.  I had no idea what all occurs in a situation like this and it has been very eye-opening, though my one big disappointment was that I could find no good reading material on what was about to happen to me...so maybe someday, somebody that's going through this will read this and take comfort that everything WILL be okay.

It's 9:20 am on a Wednesday morning and I'm just walking into my doctor's office.  I'm especially excited today because I have not yet had  my twenty-week ultrasound and I just know they're going to send me in to the hospital for it.  They don't have an ultrasound machine at the office, but I still go there because the doctors are awesome enough that I can forgive them for this one absence of machinery.

I'm surprised at how busy the office is this morning.  Nearly half of the seats are taken up by patients.  Usually, one or two seats are taken and it is very quiet, but not today.  The teenaged girl behind me is talking to her mother about the awkward new boy at school that she so obviously has a crush on. The woman next to me just realized that she is missing another appointment so she quickly gets onto her cell phone to apologize to whoever it is she's supposed to be seeing right then.  And then, the door flies open and the nurse calls my name.

I step onto the scale and I have gained four more pounds.  It's okay, as long as my baby is healthy.  That's what I always tell myself when I start feeling fat.  My first two babies caused me much weight gain but they came out so perfect that it doesn't matter.  Weight can be lost later.  The nurse takes me to room number two.  My blood pressure is 120 over 80, which I know is not typically high, but it is high for me.  I am immediately alarmed.  Something is wrong.  No, it's not.  Yes, it is.  No, it's not.  The nurse leaves me alone in that room for the next twenty minutes, which is exactly enough time to totally flip out and get mad that the walls are gray.  (I needed to be  mad about something).

Dr. M. enters the room.  She is not my regular doctor, but she is the other OB/GYN and they take turns being on-call so there is a chance they she may be the one to deliver my baby when the time comes.  She delivered Mae, and in fact, I haven't seen her since the day Mae was born, over eight years ago.  She is surprised and happy to see me and is already asking if we will have another baby after this.  Yes, that was pretty much the plan.  She took my blood pressure and I asked her why, since it had already been taken, and she explained that since it was high, she just wanted to take it again since I'd been sitting there for a while.  118 over 80.  She acted like this was a big improvement but I knew better.  She told me to lay back as she pulled out the fetal doppler to listen to baby's heartbeat.  No go.  This was definitely worrisome.  She sent me to use the bathroom, claiming that my full bladder must just be in the way.  I followed her orders and three minutes later, I was back in room two and we tried for the heartbeat again.  Nothing.  She told me not to worry, there was probably nothing wrong.  Then she quickly left the room.  This time, I wasn't left there for long enough to flip out.  The nurse came back in no time and she handed me a thirty-two ounce cup filled with iced water (no lid) and an admission slip.  She directed me to go straight to the hospital and check in at the Imaging Center.  I am no stranger to the Imaging Center.  This would be my fifth ultrasound there in three pregnancies.

My whole body was shaking as I quickly departed the office and hopped into my Jeep, spilling a good portion of iced water down my shirt-front.  I put the water in the cup holder, keys in the ignition and fumbled with the phone.  When my husband answered, he excitedly asked if I was  getting an ultrasound.  I told him yes, but there was no heart beat.  Silence, then...".....what?"  I repeated what I'd told him and I don't really remember the rest of the conversation from there.

I pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, found a spot and entered the hospital.  The Imaging Center is one of the first places you come upon, thank goodness.  I went to the front desk and handed the lady my form.  I was here only eight weeks ago for my first ultrasound (at which everything was completely normal) and so I knew the drill.  I would sit for a long time, then fill out paperwork, then sit for an even longer time until it was finally my turn.  But not today.  She looked at my form, called out a woman's name (can't remember it now) and I was immediately whisked into an office.  Paperwork done, she brought me directly to an exam room where an ultrasound technician was waiting, nervous smile plastered across her face.  I had to use a step stool to get up onto the bed and then the moment of truth was upon us.  I could see the screen and I could see that the baby was not moving, but my hopes were still up.  The tech was taking picture after picture and not saying anything.  She made sure not to make eye contact with me.  I just kept waiting for her to turn the screen more toward me and tell me the heart rate, like they did every time with every baby I've had.  Everything would be okay.  It had to be okay.  I didn't know how to handle anything less than 'okay' as that's all I've ever dealt with.  This kind of stuff happens to other people, even people I know, but never me.

I'll never forget this very moment and it has actually played through my head probably near a million times by now.  The tech accidentally looked toward me and we made eye contact.  She couldn't look away.  Instead, her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "There is no heart beat."  She then proceeded to bawl, hands over her face... and it was loud.  Not sobbing or sympathy crying, but she was really hurting.  I was crying, too, but also in shock.  Actually, double-shock because I couldn't figure out why she was crying so hard.  When she finally calmed down, she told me, "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have done that but I just lost my baby girl."  I get it.  We held hands and cried for a while, then she told me not to leave because she had to call my doctor.  She left me sitting in that room for about fifteen minutes, just crying and trying to breathe, while images of my deceased child were displayed across the computer screen.  I just kept looking at the screen, then I'd lose it and pace back and forth, then I'd go look at the screen again...and this is what I did for the entire fifteen minutes.

When the tech returned, she told me that my doctor wanted me to go back to the clinic so she could talk to me there.  We cried a little more, then hugged, then she let me leave.

It's funny...crying in public has always been my biggest fear. What will people think of me?  How bad would that look?  But on this day, it didn't matter anymore.  I found that people are much nicer when you're walking around with tears running down your face, not even caring  enough to wipe them away.  A woman in the elevator was on crutches, but she held them out to hold the door open for me to exit.  I should have been helping her.

Amazingly, I found my vehicle in the parking garage.  I called Kenny and he didn't answer.  He called me right back and couldn't believe what I was telling him.  While still on the phone, he ran to his boss' office and told him he needed to leave.  Fortunately, he only works a few blocks from the hospital, so I took a left instead of a right so that my loving husband could be with me when I had to face the doctor.  It took me nothing less than forever to find the way out of that parking garage.  This has happened to me before in that garage.  I don't know why it's so confusing, but somehow I kept driving to higher levels instead of lower.  Eventually, I decided just to follow somebody else and they must have been more mentally sound at that moment than me, because they had no problems getting out.

Walking back into the office, there was not a single person in the waiting room now.  How strange.  They brought us right to the exam room (not the same one) and Dr. S. (my regular doc) came in to offer her condolences and try to somewhat prepare us for what was ahead.  Kenny and I both realized that we had no idea what to expect.  What were they going to do to me?  How would they get this baby out?  We had already decided that we didn't want to see "it" or name "it" or anything...we just wanted it out so we could try to forget that we were ever even pregnant.  All of this would change later, but that was our initial reaction.  Dr. S.  told me that she'd made an appointment at the hospital for 6 am the next morning.  I didn't understand what for and she told me, "To induce you."  I was shocked.  I asked, "Are you actually going to put me into labor?  And then I have to deliver the baby like it's full-term?"  She told me that yes, since I was so far along, that is how it works.  How did I never know this?

I went to my sister's house next.  We hugged and cried and hugged and cried.  My stomach was growling so I ate a banana.  My sister offered me every other food in the world, but the banana had no taste to me so I figured it didn't matter what I was eating at all.  I was absolutely numb.  There was no life inside of me, just death.  My baby was actually dead inside of me and I didn't even know it.  I always thought that's something you'd feel.  Or you'd at least have a feeling.  Nope.

I drove home.  I called Kenny on the way (he had gone to his own sister's house) and we found it funny that we were leaving our sister's houses at the same time.  We drove past the same field fire on our way home.  I beat him by about one minute.  I  had cried the whole way home.  In fact, I had been  crying ever since I heard the news.  I didn't know I could cry that much.  Just non-stop tears and no way of turning the faucet off.

Our day had been tough so far, but it was about to get a whole lot harder.  The kids were coming home from school.  When we buried Kyler's hamster, you would have thought it was the end of the world. Both kids took it so hard.  They've never lost an actual person (well, their great-grandpa, but they didn't really know him all that well) so how in the world were we going to tell them that the baby they have been so excited about was no longer?

Here's something important that I can't leave out because it really comes into play later.  The day we told the kids we were pregnant (Christmas), the first thing  Kyler said was, "I hope it lives."  I thought that was strange.  Even more strange was that after every single appointment I had with my doctor, I would come home to find Kyler waiting by the door, asking, "Is the baby still alive?"  I asked him why he kept asking that and he'd just say, "Sometimes they don't live, Mom."  Little did I know that he was trying to prepare me.  He knew.

We heard the front door open and close and our bubbly children came running through the door, happy about the day they'd had at school.  Mae walked in first, with Kyler following close behind.  We were about to crush them and they had no idea.  Kyler took one look at me and asked, "The baby died, didn't it?"  I nodded my head because I couldn't breathe, let alone talk.  Both kids jumped into my lap and hugged me while they began wailing.  Kenny scooted over and put his arms around all of us.  We were rocking and bawling and it hurt so very bad that I can't even write this without tears falling.  Kyler kept saying over and over, "I hope we get another baby.  We have to get another baby."  I didn't tell him, but at that specific moment, I had already decided that I would never try for another baby ever, ever, ever.  I didn't know pain like this existed and I certainly wasn't going to do anything to bring more of it onto our family.

One of the hardest things to do was tell people.  I couldn't say it without crying, then they'd cry, then it'd just be a bunch of sniffling for minutes straight, and that's really strange when you're just on the phone with somebody.  All I can say is thank goodness for texting.  My two sisters and one brother all showed up within ten minutes of each other, and it wasn't even coordinated.  I thought that was pretty cool.  Jen made a tater tot casserole and Tania brought alcohol, which is still sitting on my counter, unopened.  There was a lot of crying and planning.  Somebody had to watch the kids.  Somebody had to watch me.  The animals still needed fed.  We figured it all out and decided we were exhausted so they all headed home.

Bedtime may have been my worst part of the whole day.  Something really strange happened here, too.  Kenny and I were cuddling and crying and his stomach honestly sounded like a thunderstorm.  If I didn't know it was his stomach, that's exactly what I would have thought was going on.  His tummy wasn't just growling...it was thundering.  So loud.  I told him that maybe he's having sympathy pains for me and jokingly rolled away from him and...silence.  His stomach completely quit making the noises.  I rolled back to him and it started.  We repeated this quite a few times and then just laid apart from each other, in shock.  Anybody that knows Kenny knows that he's very intuitive (which has obviously been passed on to Kyler), always predicting when something bad is about to happen and sometimes even able to pinpoint what that bad thing is and who it will happen to.  But this was taking it to a whole different level.  His head didn't know about it but his body definitely did.  His stomach had been hurting pretty badly and making weird noises since Saturday night.  It was determined later that I lost the baby approximately 5 days prior to delivering (which would equal out to Saturday).

Back to bedtime.  Kenny was tossing and turning all night, but every now and then I'd hear a slight snore so I knew he was sleeping a little.  But me, I wasn't.  At all.  I was only crying and gasping for breath and every so often, I'd have to run to the bathroom to blow my nose.  As I laid in bed, I wondered how my baby could really be dead inside of me without me noticing.  Hadn't I felt kicks?  I was sure I had.  I rolled over onto my left side and after a few seconds, I felt a kick.  I thought, "What the..." and rolled over to my right side.  This is where my night got very, very bad.  I was not feeling a kick...I was feeling a thud.  As I would roll from one side to the other, the baby would fall to that side and I could feel when it would hit bottom.  Ouch.  Ouch, ouch, ouch.  I decided to lay on my back and that didn't help because I could still feel it, just laying on me and it felt as if it could have even been on top of my stomach.  Just a weight that I could feel.  I suddenly just wanted it out of me and couldn't control my crying.  I kept looking at the clock and just wanted it to be 4:30 am because that's what time we'd decided to wake up.  I thought I'd be better then.  I'd be ready.

As the alarm rang, I slammed my hand down on the button and looked over to Kenny, who was just staring at me.  And then I broke completely down.  I thought I'd be ready to get out of bed and head to the hospital to get the ball rolling, but instead, I just crawled to Kenny and he held me as I bawled the hardest I've ever bawled in my life.  I thought my brain might break in two.  My heart most certainly had.  Kenny lost it, too, but was still trying to comfort me.  We just couldn't believe it.  This couldn't happen to us.  It just couldn't.

We finally pulled ourselves out of bed and Kenny made a pot of coffee.  I hadn't had coffee since I'd found out I was pregnant, so this is the first thing I felt guilty about.  I was happy about coffee, then immediately sad that I'd been happy about something that I could only have because my baby was dead.  I suddenly didn't want coffee anymore and pushed my cup away.

My sister showed up and I went to give my kiddos hugs and kisses.  They were sleeping so soundly and they're so perfectly beautiful that I just can't believe it sometimes.  They'd both slept in Kyler's room.  Mae was on the top bunk and her left leg was hanging over the edge and she was kicking it.  Kenny does this exact same thing when he sleeps.  I quietly kissed them both and then it was time to leave.  The whole drive to town, we talked only about how terrified we were.  The doctor had somewhat prepared us, but we really still had no idea what we were up against on this day.  What would it look like when it came out?  Would it scare us?  Would we have nightmares later?  We decided that, even though we'd said we didn't want to the day before, that maybe we do need to see our baby.  It is, after all, OUR baby.  So that was that.  We then tried to prepare each other for the very worst.  It wouldn't look like a baby.  It wouldn't be cute.  It might be deformed (the doctor said so).  It might be really dark and its skin might even be peeling from floating around inside of me for so long (my sister told me this).  With all of this in our heads, we knew we could handle whatever it was that came out of me.  We were going to love it no matter what.  It was ours.

We got to the hospital and headed to the fourth floor:  Labor and Delivery.  A woman entered the elevator with us and excitedly asked, "Are you going to see a cute little baby, too?!"  I looked her straight in the eye and said, "No, our baby died and we're going to give birth to it."  I don't know why I said that.  I'm not that cruel, I swear.  Kenny looked at me with an expression of shock on his face and I felt so bad that I'd said that.  The woman apologized to me and I just started crying because I was such an asshole.  I wasn't supposed to be here for twenty more weeks.  And I was supposed to be crying because I was so happy.  None of this was working out the way I'd planned it and I do not like changing plans at the last minute.

When we got to the front desk, I told the woman my name.  She looked into her computer and the smile disappeared from her face.  She told me to walk through the doors and somebody would meet me on the other side.  A woman was standing there and she looked very familiar.  I may have gone to school with her at one time, but I couldn't say which school or in which town.  Anyway, she brought us to a room far away from where anybody was giving birth.  I guessed they'd been through this a time or two and I was pretty thankful that I was in my own 'ward'.  The woman asked for my insurance card and gave me some forms to fill out.  I've always had a deep obsession with paperwork.  I love it.  Yes, there are really people that love paperwork.  And in a time like this, it gave me great comfort to learn that I still had enough focus to write down my own name, address and medical history.  Kenny wouldn't let me fill it out falsely.  I've always wanted to check all of the boxes that say yes, I do have this disease, just to see what they'd say.  But not this time, I guess.  I handed my proud work over the the woman and she handed me one of those butt-less gowns and told me my nurse would be in soon.

I walked into the bathroom to change and was immediately excited about the hot tub.  I said, "Wow, Kenny, come look at this thing!"  And then, like the coffee, I suddenly felt very guilty.  I'm only here because I lost a baby so I am not allowed any sort of happiness or pleasure.  Stupid hot tub.

After I was all robe'd and comfy in the bed, the nurse came in.  Jane.  She put needles in me and then explained that four tiny pills would be set right next to my cervix to "ripen" it and trick it into thinking I was ready to have the baby.  I won't tell you how she got the pills to where they needed to go, but it wasn't pleasant.  They would repeat this every four hours until "it happened".  I was so scared.  Shortly after the first four pills were inserted, my mama showed up and everything seemed a little less scary.  My mom can handle anything and she can help me handle anything.  She always has.

Throughout the whole long day, something happened that I didn't expect.  People showed up.  LOTS of people.  My sisters, my kids, Kenny's sisters, his brother, some in-laws, our moms and some friends.  I didn't think I'd want anybody there.  This was a very private matter and how could we just forget it ever happened like we'd planned to if all of these people witnessed that we were in the hospital and there was a baby being born?  But I found so much comfort in them being there.  I couldn't even explain the feeling if I tried.  Lots of hugs, lots of crying, lots of sympathy...even some laughing.  And I didn't feel guilty about that.  We even started getting excited, wondering if it was a boy or a girl.  We kept getting asked what we would name the baby and we decided that these wonderful people surrounding us were right...we had to name our baby.  We just knew it was going to be a boy so we focused on boy names.  The name we'd picked just didn't seem to fit.  No, we hadn't even seen the baby at this point, but we just knew it wasn't right.  I suddenly remembered a name I'd brought up the week before that I'd instantly fallen in love with but Kenny still had liked the other name better.  I blurted out, "Jakobi LeRoy!"  and everybody that was there, including Kenny, just said, "YES."  It was perfect.  I don't even know why; it just was.  It fit.

I decided to put the guilt away and told the nurse I would like a bath.  A hot tub bath.  Since the tub was so big, she told me that somebody would have to watch me because I'd taken pain meds and they didn't want me to fall asleep, slip in and drown.  That's right: I needed a babysitter.  Kenny volunteered for the job because it only made sense that he'd be in charge of looking out for his naked wife.  This was the first time since our drive in that we'd been alone.  We were feeling more upbeat about things now that we had a name for our baby.  We were heartbreakingly excited to see our baby.  It's only natural to wonder what your baby looks like and we just couldn't wait, though it seemed to be taking forever.  Kenny heard something in our room so he peered out the bathroom door to see two giant pieces of cake sitting on the table.  One was triple chocolate and the other was cherry cheesecake.  He quickly grabbed them up and said, "I dunno where they came from, but let's eat them before somebody realizes they're missing!"  And that's what we did.  I spilled cake in my bath and we both laughed.  I had shut off the jets because the water kept jumping into my eyes and it hurt.  I have no idea who made such a violent hot tub but it was not what I'd expected.  As we sat there eating our cake and talking, the jets turned themselves back on and nearly ruined my cake.  It's a good thing that I act quickly in panicked times like this when my plateful of sugar is at stake. I held it high in the air while Kenny hit the button and laughed at me as I slid under the water since I had no grip and both hands were busy making sure the cake was okay.  Don't worry, it was.

By 6pm, the crowd had died down.  We were now on our third nurse and it was pretty quiet and I was growing exhausted.  I was also becoming irate, because this wasn't supposed to take so long and we'd made absolutely no progress.  My cervix was still completely closed.  My sister gave me a face massage, of which I didn't know existed, and I fell into very peaceful sleep for about...an hour?  Maybe?  From then on, they gave me pain meds every hour and I would fall asleep for a short while, feeling like I was floating and dreaming I was an old man farmer, wearing overalls and a straw hat.  Or maybe that was supposed to be Jakobi.  Yeah, that makes more sense.

By 9pm, my doctor called and told me the 'new plan', of which I was not a fan at all, but I was so exhausted that I didn't really care.  We would quit the four pills every four hours and give my body a break for the night.  We'd resume the whole process at 5am.  The nurse would give me a sleeping pill so that I could get adequate rest.  I agreed to all of this.  Sleep was sounding so good.  I took more pain meds.  I took the Ambien.  Within one hour, I was wide awake and I got that same angry feeling that I got at the doctor's office that morning when I was mad at the gray walls.  This time, I was mad at the news anchor's face.  I suddenly knew why the tv remote was tethered to the bed.  I really felt like throwing it at the television.  I wouldn't do that, but I really did want to.  When the nurse came in around 10:30pm, I angrily told her that I was wide awake.  She said the pill would kick in soon.  She gave me more pain meds and that was enough that I thought I could sleep.  And I did for about an hour, until a strange, hollowed pain that I have never felt sat me straight up in bed, right out of sleep.  It didn't hurt but it did.  It was a very different kind of pain and I didn't know what to do.  It went away, then came back a few times.  And then a very large jolt, as if somebody had punched me square in the stomach, hurt so bad that it had me up and out of that bed in less than a second.  I yelled for my mom, who was sleeping peacefully on the couch.  Kenny was in the room next to us because there was an actual bed in there and we wanted him to get some good rest since this wouldn't happen until morning (liars!).  He said he couldn't hear me at all, but he also felt the pain in his stomach and it also had him out of bed and running to my room.  I headed straight for the bathroom because I didn't really know where to go or what to do.  We'd had that whole day to figure it out and never really made a solid plan.  I guess the nurses just supposed I would stay in bed.  I sat on the toilet and then jumped right back off.  I remembered my doctor telling me that some people think they are just going to the bathroom and they have the baby.  She warned me that if I was unsure, I should put the toilet cap in to catch the baby so that nobody has to go fishing around in the toilet for it (ew).  Who knew that "Put the toilet cap in" would be the best advice of the day?  Kenny had hit the 'Nurse' button multiple times but nobody was showing up.  It must have been right at shift change or something because it seemed like forever before anybody showed up.  In fact, Kenny had directed me to push and talked me through it and the baby was fully delivered before any nurse showed up.  I was too afraid to look for a while, but like I said, I had all of this time and didn't know what to do, so eventually I looked down.  The baby was still suspended from me by the umbilical cord and it was spinning around.  As I watched it spin, I caught a good glimpse and announced, "It's a boy!" and Kenny and I cried.  Again.

It was, of course, right about this time that the sleeping pill kicked in, causing the rest of the night to be a complete blur.  I remember my sister coming in and taking pictures.  It surprised me that she held Jakobi because she gets very ill at the sight of blood, so I'm still very proud of her for this.  A woman pastor came in and prayed with us.  I remember her telling me that she can tell I'm a good mom and it's not often that people want to hold and touch and love their baby the way I was.  Yeah, that's exactly how I thought I'd be, but then I saw my baby and you'd never believe that it's still love at first sight, whether your baby is living or otherwise.  I just love that little, tiny boy so very much.

Baby Jakobi was all tangled up in his own umbilical cord.  We thought at first that he might be deformed as it looked like his right arm was put on backwards. Later on, I decided to unravel the cord.  It had been so tight around his right arm that while it was not deformed like we'd thought, but it was only bone at the top.  The doctor told us that if he had lived, the arm would have been amputated.  We counted as I pulled the cord from around his neck one, two, three times.  It was so tight and his poor little head was swollen from it.  Do babies feel pain in the womb?  I've heard NO from so many people, but how would they know?  That looked incredibly painful.  And the arm had been like that for weeks, if not months.  Did my baby know only pain?  I hope not, but he sure did keep fighting even if he did.

And then the sleeping pill was too much.  I was ready for a whole lot of sleep.  The nurse came and took Jakobi from me and I accusingly asked her what she thought she was doing.  She told me she was just taking his measurements and making handprints and footprints for us.  I got teary-eyed and asked if she would bring him back.  She smiled and said, "Of COURSE I will."  And then I was out.  I woke up and he was next to me.  He was so small that I found throughout the day that I kept almost losing him.  Once, I put the phone on the bed with a very small toss and it landed right next to him.  I felt so bad!  The phone was bigger than the baby and I know that he was not feeling any pain at THIS point, but still.  It just didn't seem right.  I decided to be really, really careful after that.

About 8am (I think), Mae strolled through my hospital room door and little did we know that she was about to amaze the entire hospital staff (and the rest of us).  Kyler opted to stay with my sister's fiance.  I thought he was afraid to see the baby, but I found out later that he just didn't like all of the people around (and he still got his time with the baby later on, just him and me).  But Mae...Mae was fearless.  I will admit that when I was that age, I don't think I'd have the guts to even see something like that.  Babies are supposed to be fat and pink and laugh a lot.  We warned her and she still wanted to see.  She came right in and gave me a hug, asking how I was doing and feeling.  She is a little mama...always taking care of everybody.  She didn't even see Jakobi laying there because despite our warnings, she expected him to be bigger.  When I pointed him out, she said, 'OH MY GOD, SO SMALL!  SO CUTE!!"  She hopped right onto the bed and picked him up.  She put him back down and opened the blanket up and marveled over his tiny little hands and perfect little feet.  She said she didn't expect him to have fingers and toes like that.  She was right...his features were so perfect.  You could see veins in his legs.  You could see his tongue.  He looked so much like his Daddy and brother that it made me smile and hurt at the same time.  He didn't look scary at all like we'd expected.  He just looked perfect.

A lady came in and brought us a Prayer Shawl.  She prayed with us and Mae cried a lot, making everybody else cry.  Next to the morning before, when I completely lost it when the alarm clock went off, this was the most painful crying we did.  I wish Kyler had been there, but crying is not his style, so Mae, Kenny and I all hugged and cried for what seemed like forever.

The nurse told us that a geneticist was in the hospital and they wanted him to look at Jakobi.  We said that didn't seem necessary since the cause of death was obvious, but she thought it was still a good idea so we sent him on his way.  The geneticist came in and we got another shocker.  He told us that there were strong indications of Downs Syndrome in our baby.  The umbilical cord was really thin and his ears were slightly lower.  I just thought that was because he wasn't fully developed.  We were offered tests on him.  I asked the geneticist what the chances of this happening again would be and he told me, "It's the same for everybody.  One percent."  Well then, there would be absolutely no point in testing for anything.

Mae helped the nurse give Jakobi his first and only bath.  The nurse found a little outfit that, while tiny, was still way too big for him but when wrapped around him, looked cute as could be.  She also found him a white little crocheted hat.  He looked perfectly peaceful.  And then we left.

This all began six days ago.  I've since talked to Kyler about his premonitions.  I asked how he knew the baby was going to die and he told me that he didn't know how he knew.  I asked if he'd had a dream or just a feeling and he said, "It was a feeling.  I just knew it would happen."  So I asked him, "What if, later on, we decided we want another baby?"  He replied with, "Oh, you have to, Mom.  It will be fine.  It might have something wrong with its nose...maybe a sinus infection...but it won't be SICK sick."  This just completely floored me.  I also have a feeling that if we try for another baby, everything will be fine, but if it is born with anything wrong with its sinuses, I just don't know what I'll do!

And this coming Sunday, our families are coming over to celebrate Easter and Jakobi.  We will plant a Jakobi garden, which just keeps getting bigger and bigger and it will be beautiful, just like him.  So many people have supported us throughout this and it has been absolutely amazing.  We know (I mean we really KNOW, we can feel it) that our sweet boy is resting peacefully and that we will be with him someday.  We are able to look ahead, yet not too proud to cry at any given moment, just because we miss him.  I find myself spacing off...a lot...even more than before and then I snap out of it and notice that somebody has been watching me and now they're wondering if I'm okay.  I am.  With heartbreak, we got love.  With pain, we got comfort.  I don't have unanswered questions.  I don't feel like I did anything wrong.  I don't feel that I'm being punished for anything I've ever done.  But I do have this overwhelming feeling that I just need to love everybody as much as possible.  I find myself complimenting people at random; people I don't even know.  I smile at everybody and they always smile back.  If somebody needs help, I jump in and help.  I'd like to say that I've always done that, but if I was in a hurry or my life was too busy at the moment, I'd just hope somebody else would help.  Now, I can make the whole world stop to lend a helping hand.  My whole world stopped six days ago, so I know it can be done at any given moment.  And really, everybody should take time out to stop the world.  It's kind of nice sometimes.