Month: March 2018

A Must Read

A Must Read

Michelle Van Benthem

Hi everyone! As we get closer to meeting Oliver, Zach and I have been putting some serious thought into how to keep him safe when he’s at his teeny tiniest.

As you know, Stella & Joy did not get to come home with us. This delivery, recovery, and journey we are about to embark on with Oliver will be very different. As much as we want to allow everyone to love and enjoy Oliver with us, we also want to protect him. We know, all too well, how many things can go wrong in the blink of an eye.

Oliver will be arriving a little early. Therefore, we will not know if he will need NICU time until he is here with us. We also want our first days with him to be focused on our family of three, plus two very special angels. These early moments will be emotional on so many levels, and we want the space to soak it all in. For these reasons, hospital visits will be kept to a bare minimum, and by invitation only. Please don’t take offense if you are not invited to the hospital, understand how much we have gone through to get here and how important these moments will be. We want everyone to meet and celebrate Oliver and would be happy to arrange said meetings once we are settled back at home.

When we do get home, we have some guidelines we need and expect to be followed for those who wish to meet our sweet boy:

-Please no unannounced visits. I will be recovering from a c-section and will want to be prepared for visitors. This applies to both family hospital visits and home visits. A quick text or email to Zach or me and we will do our best to set a time for you to come over.

-Please wash and sanitize hands before holding baby Oliver. We have plenty of soap and hot water.

-There will be no kissing our little one. This especially applies to his tiny face and hands. Kisses can be quite dangerous in his earliest weeks. We ask that both friends and family respect this. No matter how tempting and kissable his little cheeks may look, we must insist you refrain.

-Please make sure that your Tdap vaccine is updated. The Tdap is recommended every 10 years. If you have recently had a tetanus shot, you are most likely covered, but it wouldn’t hurt to double check. I will have already received one while pregnant, but Oliver is not fully protected until he is able to get his own vaccination. Tdap is a live vaccine, so please get it at least 2 weeks prior to meeting Oliver.

-This has been one of the worst flu seasons recorded. If you or your children are feeling sick, please wait until you are 100% before visiting. Even if you just have the sniffles. Oliver is too precious to be put at risk.

-We feel very strongly about keeping Oliver away from smoke smells. Third-hand smoke (lingering smoke in furniture, clothing and on skin/hair), is still very harmful to him. If you do smoke, please make sure you are free of smoke smell before visiting. This means clean skin and hair, and clean clothes. Any smoke smell will mean visiting with Oliver from a distance. As an early baby, we will be especially careful of his little lungs.

Please know that we have given a lot of thought to these guidelines, and they are all incredibly important to us. If you disagree with any of these, unfortunately that may mean you are unable to visit or hold Oliver. We could not be more thankful for all of the love and support we’ve been shown. I know everyone is excited to meet our little man and we appreciate the understanding with these guidelines to help ease our worries and fears.

35+5

Michelle Van Benthem

35+5. That is the gestation that I found out Stella & Joy had passed. The day I learned that my daughters had no heartbeats. The day my life changed. The day my world shattered. Now, at 34 weeks, I find myself hyper-aware of everything around me. As 35+5 draws closer, my anxiety is peaking and I struggle just to make it through each day.

Everyday I carry with me the guilt I harbor for losing my daughters. They were inside of me. I was their protector. My only job was to take care of them and bring them safely into this world, and I failed. No matter what anyone says or tells me, that guilt will always be there. I should have known something was wrong. I should have known something changed. I missed something. I thought I felt movement that day, but I look back and I can’t remember.

One question I hate, even thought I know people mean well, is “how’s the baby?” The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know how Oliver is doing except for the moments I can physically see him on an ultrasound screen. I think he is doing well. I think he is growing, and “breathing”, and getting ready for his arrival, but I also thought Stella & Joy were doing well. I thought they were okay and everything was going great. I do not trust my judgement. As much as I want to believe I will get my happy ending, there is still a part of me that is bracing for the worst. Bracing for my world to shatter once again.

With Oliver, I am acutely aware of every movement, every change, every pattern. I do my daily kick counts, I take mental notes of when he moves, what I am doing before and after he moves, and what his movements feel like. With this pregnancy, I refuse to miss something, but I still fear that I will. I have gone to the hospital three times now for decreased fetal movement. The first time was at 3 am. I woke up in a a panic that I hadn’t felt him move all day or night. Zach was in New York so I called my parents, trying to hold it together, and asked them to take me to the hospital. In my mind, I already accepted that Oliver was gone. I had failed once again. I went to labor and delivery, ready to be told just that. Instead, I was met with caring nurses who hooked me up to monitors and did an ultrasound, showing me that he was in fact okay. This happened two more times. Each time I had convinced myself something was wrong. Each time I prepared myself for the worst. Each time I was wrong and Oliver was still alive. Each time I went home, still pregnant, still growing life.

In addition to my unscheduled trips to the hospital, I am also doing non-stress tests (NSTs) twice a week. It was at a routine NST that I was told Stella & Joy’s hearts had stopped. The feeling I get when Oliver’s heartbeat is first picked up on the monitor is a sense of relief like nothing I can describe. The first three went off without a hitch. He moved and wiggled around, showed periods of acceleration and deceleration in his heart-rate just like he was supposed to, and I was sent on my way. At the fourth appointment, however, it was different. His reading just did look the same as it had before. His movement seemed to be less to me. Instead of the normal ~30 minutes on the monitor, it was over an hour. Of course, I began to panic. His heart was beating and I was feeling him move, but it just was’t the same as it had been. Of course, I assumed the worst. In that moment, I knew he was still alive, but I also knew just how quick everything could change. I just couldn’t leave until the doctor came in and reassured me that everything was okay. Even then, I couldn’t shake that feeling that something would go wrong, but I had no choice but to leave and go to work as scheduled. I still worried that something was going to go wrong. I don’t know that I will ever be able to shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong…

These last weeks before Oliver comes are not going to get any easier. The closer I get to 35+5, the more anxious and nervous and emotional I get. I don’t even know how I will cope when I pass that point. The death of my daughters is by far the hardest thing I have experienced. This pregnancy, a pregnancy after loss, is a close second. I can’t wait to hold my son. To see him and touch him and just watch him live. I anxiously await his arrival, as I try to maintain a sense of normalcy and calm. I hold on to the hope that this will be my happy ending. Oliver will come, healthy and alive.