I recently read a blog post written by a Labor and Delivery Nurse about her experience helping a family through the stillbirth of their son. Her words were beautiful and it gave me a little perspective into the other side of pregnancy and infant loss. I wish I could place a link to the post here but it's since been changed to a private post.
As parents of loss, we know the hell our loss brought into our lives. We remember all of the details of that day more vividly than we would like. We replay the day over and over in our heads. We know firsthand how each moment of that day felt and how it continues to be and will always be a part of us, each and every day. But what we don't know is how our loss day impacted those who were part of our loss. We don't know what was going through the heads of those involved.
I'm not talking about our families. I'm talking about those who were there with us, doing their jobs to help try to save our babies or trying to comfort us in our darkest hour. I very often think about the first responders to our home that morning and the doctors and nurses at the hospital who worked on Avery. I often wish I could get them all in a room and find out what the day was like for them.
There was the police officer, a corporal, I believe, who was at our house so quickly. I can't see his face but I can clearly remember him busting through the door, running into our bedroom and taking over CPR for me. I know how hard it was for me to do CPR on her but I often wonder what was going through his head that morning. Was he just about to finish his shift or was he just starting his day? Was this the first time he had to respond to a call with a baby. God, I pray he doesn't get these calls often. I wonder if he has a family of his own. Did he to home and hug them a little tighter? I will always have a very great appreciation to this man, a man I don't know at all, who gave it his all until the fire department arrived.
I often wonder many of the same things about the firefighters and paramedics who were next to arrive. I wonder what they were thinking as they rushed to our house. I wonder if they knew deep down, she was already gone once they started working on her. I wonder if any of them prayed on the drive to the hospital. I wonder if any of them still remember that morning. I know it couldn't have been easy for any of them.
And then I wonder about the hospital staff. Those who spent over 30 minutes working on Avery. Trying everything they could to save her. I wasn't allowed in the room, I cannot remember any of their faces, but I am forever grateful that they tried as hard and as long as they did. I wonder if the doctor who broke the news to us had ever lost a child under her watch. I wonder if she still remembers Avery. I wonder how they found the strength the continue working that day.
I wonder how June 12, 2012 affected each of the people involved in our loss. I know everything each of them did that day is just part of their job but to us, we are forever grateful of their service. Even though most of these people remain faceless to me, they will always hold a special place in my heart.
I want to say thank you to all of our police officers, fire fighters, paramedics, doctors, nurses and all others who stay strong when facing the worst and try their hardest to better the outcome. It takes a special person to do this work and I am forever indebted to those who helped that awful June morning.