Friday, July 2, 2010

July 2, 2009

Another one year ago post... July 2nd, 2009, in the morning, I still had hope that Sierra was alive, that my ultrasound that day might even show that she had grown a bit.  She moved so little in those last couple weeks that I really was not certain if I'd felt her or not in the few days before July 2nd, but I thought I had.  The ultrasound was at 2:00 PM.  We went in and the sonographer said that the doctor didn't want a growth estimate this week, so she was just going to check for a heartbeat and look at the fluid level (which had been consistently very low).  I knew this was because my ultrasound the week before had shown a big decrease in placental function.  I protested, though, feeling like the doctor was giving up on my baby, and said I still wanted to know her size because we were still considering delivering her.  The sonographer's eyes were kind and slightly sad, and I caught myself then and said, "Well, let's just see if she's still alive, first."  The transducer was only on my belly a few seconds before she shook her head and said softly, "No, she's not.  I'm so sorry; there's no heartbeat."  As she pointed out Sierra's still heart, I told her, "It's okay; we were expecting that."  She responded, "I know, but it's still very sad," and that was when I started to cry.  I reached over to hold Tim's hand and we both wept silently as she finished the scan.  (Of course it wasn't okay, but for some reason I felt I needed to comfort her.  And alongside the heartbreak, I did also feel a bit of relief that it was over, although this wasn't in any way the ending I'd wanted.)

We went home to collect some stuff, and then went back to the hospital a few hours later.  Labor was induced that night and Sierra was born at 11:16 AM on July 3rd.

She was tiny, just 12.1 ounces and 10 inches long.  Her feet were about an inch and a quarter long.  She had probably been gone four or five days, the nurse told us gently, and her fragile little body had some indications of this.  But her feet were just lovely - perfect miniature replicates of Tim's, with the second toe longer than the first.  I'm starting to be able to look at her pictures now, and especially these footprints, with affection as well as sorrow and remorse.  This is my daughter and I love her.  But oh, how I wish she were alive in my arms right now.


  1. Thinking of you and remembering Sierra, especially today. I wish she were alive in your arms too.

    The sonographer who saw you, Tim and your daughter that day was right. It is very sad. x

  2. i'm so sorry sierra isn't in your arms erika. it's not fair.