#michaelnicholas

(Major TW)

Many of you already know that we lost our son Michael Nicholas at birth, a little over two years ago. We never found a real reason. He was healthy and strong, genetic tests early in the pregnancy told us only good things. All we know is that I got sick one day and went into labor. We rushed to the hospital with our then 5 year old, leaving messages in the phones of all our babysitters. They did a quick ultrasound on arrival, and Michael seemed well. He even waved at us. No one in the ER believed that I was in labor; they were talking about my appendix, a virus, etc. Because I hadn’t hit 20 weeks they wouldn’t even page an ob. But I knew. Everyone was so panicked. I remember laying on my side in our little curtained cubicle of a giant ER room, trying to calm Pip between contractions. Thank God David took Pip for a quick bathroom break when he did. While they were gone I was alone with two other medical personnel. Techs? Residents? I have no idea who they were. Only that I felt Michael come, but they were busy with writing something and looking at the computer, and I screamed at them to look at me. They turned and looked at my baby on the table, who I couldn’t reach. The morphine they had given me for pain limited my movement and clouded my brain, but didn’t do anything for the pain. The look on their faces was shock, confusion, maybe. They had a quick exchange of “should we?.. Is he?… and then “go!” And one ran out to get the attending physician, who appeared very quickly and took Michael over to the table where I couldn’t see. A nurse intercepted Pip on the way back, and David came back in just as the doctor was saying “I’m sorry…” Michael was born at nearly 18 weeks, given zero chance of survival. I don’t know if he lived outside me for even a second. If he was in pain. If he was scared. Or if another two weeks would’ve been enough for his survival. Or anything. I had to ask for them to give him to me. And then finally they moved us out of the ER to a room where we could be together, and I could be treated for whatever stupid infection it was. Michael was 8 inches long and weighed 4.8 oz. He was beautiful and perfect, just not able to live in this world. I am thankful for the time we were able to spend with him afterwards, and for the pictures we took, hand and footprints we got, and that we were able to take him his tiny hat and blanket.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this now, or if I’ve written it before. I want to remember it. The details seem to be burned into my memory but I’m still writing them down. Now, more than two years later.

2019 has been a full year. A year of extremes for sure. I tried summing it up, but so many life-changing things have happened, brevity is just not an option. Even so, here are some of the major points, in no particular order.

We adopted a cat and a puppy.

I left a terrible job (lovely coworkers, wonderful families, abusive boss and toxic work environment). When they suggested that they might begin targeting Pip as well, I pulled him out the same day. It was already a questionably safe classroom environment. Threaten my kid and we are gone.

David performed in something like ten opera productions and major concerts with the Ryan Center at Lyric Opera and in Aspen. Somewhere among all those he also had an emergency appendectomy, then jumped back into rehearsals a week later.

David completed his DMA.

I started teaching ESL classes and private violin (let’s just say I’m self-taught) and piano lessons in an elementary school.

David and I got married at Furman. It was a beautiful, emotional day surrounded by so many people we love. It was covered by the New York Times. We still aren’t quite sure why.

After three unsuccessful years working with fertility clinics we spontaneously conceived in February. Michael was perfect, strong, and healthy, but I got sick and went into early labor. Our beloved baby boy was born and died on May 25th.

Pip started kindergarten. We like his school and teachers, and he likes his friends and his work. He is learning to read and loves to do math equations for fun.

David legally adopted Pip.

In October, the same week that Michael was supposed to have been born we found out I was pregnant again.

Now, at the eve of 2020 I am 14 weeks pregnant with a baby girl, due at the end of June.

I told him no, that Michael was born and we held him and that he died. He said he knew that but just what if.

Today was Michael’s due date. I doubt he would have been on time. He should’ve been like us, running slightly late - rushing in at the last minute. He was not supposed to be so early. Never this early.

This is the month we were supposed to be meeting him in person. Holding him. Loving him. Introducing him to his big brother and our small zoo of a house.

We lost our baby boy on Saturday morning.

I woke up with cramps and vomiting in the middle of the night and we left for the hospital at 5:30 that morning. We got to the ER where they did an ultrasound and put in an IV. They found his heartbeat easily and started giving me morphine for the pain. The morphine never kicked in for me even though they kept upping the dose. They checked and my cervix was closed but my white blood count was way up so they started looking for sources of infection. A half hour later Michael was born, five months too soon.

We are thankful that we were able to spend time with him, holding and talking to him. It was not nearly enough but it was something. We have impressions of his hand and footprints. We took some pictures for memories and we were able to keep his tiny hat and blanket.