carrying Carli

as the year comes to a close, i find myself reflecting on everything; more so than usual. i feel like i'm closing a significant, and very difficult, chapter of my life.


this time last year, i was blissfully ignorant about the special little baby i was carrying. we had an ultrasound just before christmas, that didn't raise any suspicions for my doctors. although, for me, something didn't look quite right. i sometimes think that i "knew" but then again, the shock i felt when we heard Carli's diagnosis... there's no way i knew. there was never a thought in my mind that i would lose a baby. i just thought that one ultrasound looked a little different. 


i think back to the end of january. we had just found out our little girl was very sick. her chances of survival were very slim; all odds were against her. here's something i posted on bebycenter just after our ultrasound:

 "I'm18 weeks pregnant. Yesterday we went for our anatomy U/S. We're having a girl, and have decided to name her Carli Hope. The U/S also was able to show that something is very wrong with baby Carli. (...) right now, what we have decided we need most is lots of prayers for little Carli. She needs to get better, and all we can do right now is hope and pray."  

there are times i am angry at the thought of praying. it didn't work for us. but, maybe the answer to our prayers was "no". maybe there was something else that was supposed to happen.


after our ultrasound, i scoured the internet for more information; more stories; someone to connect with; some tiny sliver of hope. here's what i posted on a hydrops board on babycenter: 

"Now we have been told to sit and wait. Blood tests will come back to confirm or rule out Viruses. Carli will either survive, or not."  

oh how vividly i can remember the feelings behind that post. the frustration. the uncertainty. how can a doctor tell you your baby will probably die, and they can't even figure out what is happening? at the time, i didn't even know that was possible. i wanted something to do. i wanted to feel like we were working to save her. instead... i had to just wait. i had to see if she would live, or see if she would die. no medication or surgery or therapy could help us. although i knew the facts and statistics... although i knew the odds were against us... i somehow denied the idea that Carli would die. for a long time, i would say it out loud, but never believed it. maybe i had hope. maybe i was in denial. maybe i was scared. maybe i believed i had the strength to make her better. i thought if i loved her enough, she would somehow get better.


i also had worries aside from Carli. looking back, they all seem so trivial and naive, but they were very real and important in the moment. i worried about telling Lynzie and Lillie. were they too young to handle the weight of everything we were going through? i worried about what Carli would look like when i saw her. would her physical appearance be too much to handle? i worried how carrying Carli would affect me. would it hurt me? what did it feel like to deliver a dead baby? would i ever be able to have more kids?


i decided to share Carli with Lynzie and Lillie. i'm so glad i did, and i can't imagine it any other way. here is something Lynzie told me just after one of our many discussions about Carli being sick:

"mommy don't cry. if you cry, i'll cry. ya know, when i was the only baby, i was happy. then when Lillie came i was even happier. if we get to keep Carli, i would be so very happy. but if Carli is an angel, that's okay. angels make me happy too. she won't leave us. she will be our angel."  

if it's possible, i think Lynzie loved Carli even more than i did. she showed me how to accept things as they are. i could only imagine a baby i could keep. i could not allow myself to accept one that would not stay. Lynzie helped me realize and accept that Carli is part of our family, no matter what happened in the end. she continues to keep Carli's memory alive- frequently quizzing people on "how many kids does mommy have?". she is quick to correct anyone who forgets to include Carli. 


after hearing that Carli's heart had stopped beating, i again searched the internet for answers. i need to find some ways to prepare for something i never imagined going through. here is something i posted on babycenter just before my induction: 

"i feel scared about how this will all happen. i honestly do not know how you ladies have found the strength to do this... but i hope i have that strength in me somewhere. i thought i was going to be okay... but the closer it gets, the worse i feel. i hope tomorrow is more peaceful for us."  

and in the days after, i checked back with the ladies of babycenter, to thank them: 

"thank you all for the thoughts and prayers! it must have worked, because our time with Carli was peaceful and comforting. i was scared the whole time i was in labor, but so relieved once i got to hold our little angel. (...) this was the scariest thing i have ever done, but you were all right. seeing and holding Carli was nothing less than perfect."

i decided to not have Lynzie and Lillie come see Carli when she was born. i thought her physical appearance might be too much for me, and especially for them. recently, i talked with the girls about what they would have wanted. they both said they wished they had seen Carli. i reminded them that she was born dead, and they said it didn't matter. i told them she was very bloody, and they said it didn't matter. i will always wonder if i made the right choice, and i border on regret for not letting them see her. 

as for my concerns about seeing Carli... it turned out that it was very easy for me to see past her illness. i had hoped and prayed that i would have the strength i had seen in so many other women who had traveled this road before me. as it turns out, our experiences are very similar. the time shared with your baby is peaceful. there is no physical defect too severe to phase the mother. the strength to handle and deal with life's most difficult tasks comes from somewhere unexplainable.