I’m sharing a birth experience that is quite different from the ones you see here. The mother has requested it be shared because her son has a story, just like every baby. And as his mother, she would like their journey acknowledged, however heartbreaking it may be. Megan and Dan’s journey to parenthood was not easy. Through the gift of medical advancements, they were able to conceive through IVF. After the very real awareness that birth doesn’t always just happen, Megan waited with reserved excitement for the confirmation that her pregnancy “took” and she was indeed on her way. She reached out to me on the earlier side, dotting her I’s and crossing her t’s to insure a healthy pregnancy and birth. She had done her research and selected midwifes are her primary care providers, with the goal of minimizing interventions during her birth. She and Dan attended my childbirth class at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, virtually, and would also welcome their baby in the midst of protocols to insure safety and limit the spread of the virus. We had our prenatal visit in their home, and discussed everything from logistical details to comfort measures, and even deviated to plants. When we parted we were looking eagerly forward to Megan’s birthing time and the fulfillment of her longtime dream of having children of her own.

Megan sent weekly updates following her prenatal appointments. All was well, meaning baby’s heart rate was good and he was growing fine. Her cervix was making subtle changes, but it was looking like her baby would push the envelope and gestate on the longer side. An induction was scheduled for February 24, but we hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Then the phone call came, not a text like the weekly updates that final month telling me all was well and mom and baby were healthy. This was different. I could hear it in Megan’s voice. She had been crying. “They couldn’t find his heartbeat.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I fell silent. A pit formed in my stomach and I held it together with an “I’m sorry.” This was devastating and I began to hold Megan’s space. Dan was on his way to her and details would be hammered out regarding support. But they were soon heading to the hospital for an induction a day sooner than expected.

Megan wrapped her head around the drastic shift in her reality and her thoughts of a natural birth suddenly felt impossible. “How can I honor Theo with the birth I have been preparing for when I know he won’t be coming home with us?” She was not afraid to ask the hard questions. She did her research and communicated openly and I answered her difficult questions as well as I was able. I responded with the reassurance that there was no wrong answer and she would find the best path for laboring her baby into the world. She would know the best thing to do and I would support her unconditionally in that. And Dan would love her the whole way through as they walked that devastating journey together.

The induction process was slow, as is often the case. But there was no cadence of a heartbeat to break up the monotony and remind her of why she was doing the work. It was a means to an end and one that she knew would be difficult and so very different than the meeting she had been envisioning for so many months. Years really. The first step was a foley bulb to encourage Megan’s cervix to open a bit more so it would be more receptive to pitocin. Megan tried to sleep that first night but it’s hard to sleep when your heart is broken and your mind is reeling. But she needed rest more than ever and she still had labor coming. Pitocin was incorporated and with it came stronger contractions. Megan accepted iv medication to help her rest and relax, as well as take the edge off the labor pain that had already begun. It could not touch the emotional pain though. An epidural soon followed, but it was not effective and Megan had several hours of intense labor even so.

Once her labor picked up it took off, which was a small mercy in the midst of such a task. Megan was dilated 8-9 cm by midday and the realization began to hit that Theo would be coming soon. We reminded Dan to eat and both of them to rest but self-care is especially difficult in grief. Megan’s body came through in amazing fashion, dilating rapidly and moving her baby down to +2 station in a short couple of hours. She continued to feel break through pain, the physical kind. But the emotional pain was just as acute. Megan began pushing sooner than expected and moved through that phase with a courage that I cannot fathom. It was a challenge she knew she had to face, and she did so without the reliable aid of the pain medication button. She relied on the physical pain to cue her to push. Megan used immense strength and powerful emotion and brought Theo out of her body with a tearful roar. He was born at 3:09 pm on February 23, 2021. And in his birth he was also gone.

The midwife gently placed Theo on Megan’s chest and she grabbed hold of him. There was no vigorous rubbing to elicit a cry. Just a gentle stroking to wipe away some blood. Dan reached out to touch his son and immediately noted all of his perfect parts. “He has ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes,” Dan whispered. Then he laughed to see the same “mean mugging face” that Megan’s dad had. Her father was Theo’s namesake and had passed away just two years ago. Seeing his expression was heartwarming and heartwrenching at the same time. He was in that room though. Megan and Dan had a lot to get to know in a short amount of time and they relished the opportunity to become familiar with their son. They were given a cuddle cot so he could spend some extended time with them before their final goodbyes. Theo was perfect. He just looked like he was asleep and I suppose he was. The cause of his sudden passing was clear at the birth and something that could not have been prevented or foreseen. It is also a very rare circumstance. But those words don’t bring comfort when your son is the rare case.

I held their space and took pictures. Megan’s nurse was kind and compassionate. She gently bathed and dressed Theo in the outfit of his parents’ choosing. It fit perfectly, although we initially had out doubts. Theo weighed 9 lb. and was 22 ¼ in. long. He had chubby cheeks and substantial shoulders and a head full of dark hair. His parents memorized those details along with so many other things none of us could begin to imagine.

There was palpable love in that room. There was sadness, yes. There was great sorrow. But there was also talk of family and stories told. Megan and Dan laughed over memories from their wedding that were ridiculous and endearing, and only made their experience more precious. I could see how much Megan and Dan valued family and how much they loved each other. I could see how much they loved their son. They modeled patience and courage as they walked through the most difficult thing a human can. They will continue that walk lifelong. I also saw yielding and openness and hope as the mention of children entered the conversation. And spring was a promise just a few weeks away, hinted by the first color growing from the ground and the first buds of the trees. I will always cherish the hours spent with Megan and Dan and the beautiful reminder it was of the strength of parents’ love and how it transcends space and time. And knowing how fleeting life can be, remembering to savor every little thing. For you just don’t know. Holding space for this sweet couple today and every day. Thank you for your lessons to us about love and loss, and for wanting to share Theo’s story.