It’s been weeks since our little girl was stillborn, but the events of that day still run through my mind. The specifics get hazy, but I will never forget the heartache and sorrow of that time. Amy and I were so excited for our little girl. I wanted a boy because I always believed an older brother was necessary to protect the younger siblings. But as we acquired pink everything, the idea of a little girl overcame me. I was so excited. I loved to just sit and feel her kick. I could just lay there and feel her kick for hours. She was such an active little baby. I felt weird talking to her through Amy’s belly, but I knew she could hear me so I would say things sometimes. I played classical music for her whenever I remembered because I heard it stimulated the baby’s developing mind.
Amy was 37 weeks, which is considered full term. And we were expecting Alexis to come at any time. The thought of being a first time father was nerve-wracking. We had just finished the nursery and were only missing a dresser and some touch-up on the wall paint (it was quite the undertaking with the diamond pattern, the bead board, the chair rail and all the trim and door painting, but looked amazing when it was all put together). I was getting more and more excited for her to arrive. The reality that we were having a baby was getting more and more real. It was weird, but exciting. I had friends with children, but I still felt too young to be a father. Some days I would stand at the door of the nursery and look at the crib sitting there and think “There’s a crib… in MY house…” The whole pregnancy process was one big emotional climax. The bigger Amy’s belly got and the more baby things we acquired and the ultrasounds just increasingly made it more real.
The day before she was born, I was in class. I had started my last semester at the U. I had fully embraced the idea of being a father and was telling everyone I was going to be a father any day. I even announced it to my Mass Comm Law class as my “getting to know you” factoid. Because I had to go to school, Amy went to her 37 week doctor appointment by herself. It was just a routine checkup, so we expected the doctor to just tell us things were moving right along. I think Amy had only been to one other appointment by herself throughout the whole pregnancy. I liked going, so I went whenever I could. It was interesting to hear and see the development and fun to hear the heartbeat.
I had just gotten to work and was talking toa co-worker about a situation involving a recently enrolled student when my phone rang. It was Amy. I had told her to let me know how her appointment went, and since I wasn’t expecting anything more, I figured I would just call her back when I left that co-worker's office. It wasn’t more than a couple minutes until I picked up the message as I was walking back to my office. Amy was noticeably upset and just said “You need to come to the hospital. Something is wrong.” My heart sank and my blood raced. I ran back to my office and grabbed my coat and car keys. I mumbled something to an employee on my way out that I would be back.
As I got in the car, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father not to punish Amy for anything I had done. I’ve always been so hard on myself and I haven’t had the best judgment in life. I have a bad tendency to blame myself for things and so in this situation my first tendency was to assume this was punishment for my bad choices. I called Amy back but only remember just asking her where she was and telling her I would be there soon.
I raced to the hospital, which I was fortunate to work so close to. It only took me a few minutes to get there. I was lucky to find a parking space quickly and raced into the hospital and up to our doctor's office. I told the receptionist I was there to see my wife who was already back with the doctor. the nurse came up and showed me back to the room where Amy was. Our doctor was standing outside the room with a very somber look on her face and I knew something was terribly wrong. I went into the room where Amy was sitting on the exam table and was on the phone with her mom… in tears. My mom was also standing in the room. As I walked into the room, Amy handed the phone to my mom and I went and held her. I don’t remember if someone told me what had happened or if I had just guessed it by that point, but our baby was gone before she arrived. I don’t remember exchanging many words with Amy, for a long time we just held each other and cried. I remember the complete feeling of emptiness I felt at that moment and physically feeling my heart break, not just for losing my daughter, but for seeing Amy so upset. I couldn’t bear to see the love of my life in such pain. I told her I loved her and how sorry I was this had happened, but I know my words were little consolation. I remember hearing my mom talk to Amy's mom about the doctor not being able to find a heartbeat, her consequent disbelief and my mom handing the phone to our doctor. I believe at that point I sat down and Amy and my mom recounted what had happened up to the point when I got there and the options from that point. We could either go home and wait for Amy’s body to deliver the baby in its own time or they could induce labor. Amy didn’t want to wait and I couldn’t blame her. I think she was still in shock of it all and just wanted to get everything over with. I don’t think she was wrong for wanting that, I just remember thinking she was a little bit cynical about everything.
My mom had already called my brother to come give us blessings. He doesn’t work very far away and he arrived shortly after. We first gave one to Amy, using oil, to bless her with comfort for the events to come. He then gave me a blessing of comfort as well. We were told there wasn’t any room in Labor and Delivery at that time and would have to wait for them to call us. I’m glad my mom had the foresight to stop by the desk on the way out and double check. The charge nurse was so nice and understanding about our situation and told us to wait while she made room. I went to complete the hospital admission while Amy waited with my mom. I was familiar with admissions processes having worked in the IHC billing office. I knew what they would ask and I was in kind of a daze by that point, I think a subconscious part of me took over. I don’t remember a whole lot about that process except verifying our address and other various pieces of information and signing a few forms.
The admission process made me wonder if our insurance would consider this different than a regular delivery. Again, having worked with the billing office, I was very familiar with the difficulties in dealing with insurance, so I decided to call them and make sure. I was in the hospital lobby on the phone when Amy’s sister called and said she was pulling up to the hospital. I told her where we were and sent my brother, who had stuck by me, to go out and watch for her. She came in and gave me a big hug. Amy’s family has always been so nice and loving. I’ve appreciated their genuine love for me so much. I was still on the phone so I told Winston to take her back to the room Amy was in.
After talking to the insurance company and making sure everything would be covered, I called Amy's job and told Amy’s boss that Amy wouldn’t be in. She asked if everything was alright and I told her there was a problem with the baby, but that we would keep her updated. Then I called my boss and told her I was at the hospital and that they were inducing Amy, so I didn’t know when I would be back to work. She said not to worry about it. I feel blessed to have had such a flexible job. Having just given birth herself, my boss was very understanding with regard to the pregnancy. She asked if everything was alright and I told her the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat. She said we would be in their prayers.
I went back to where Amy was… she was in the restroom changing into her gown. I remember looking around the labor and delivery room and just thinking this didn’t feel real. I think I was in denial that my daughter was dead. We were supposed to be there to deliver our living, healthy, active baby girl. I was supposed to be happy to be here, not terrified. After Amy got settled in the bed, the nurses came in and introduced themselves. Another doctor came in with an ultrasound machine and verified that there wasn’t a heartbeat… my heart broke again, but I think part of me was still holding onto a miracle. That somehow, someway our baby would be alright. The nurses gave Amy a pill to start labor, but it would take a while to take effect, so we had to wait.
I was hungry… I hadn’t eaten at all that day so I went to the cafeteria with mom to get something to eat. I’m sure we talked about what was going on, but I don’t remember. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. We got some food and Amy wanted a Snicker’s bar and went back. The evening is kind of a blur of people coming and going. My dad came, my sister came, my sister-in-law joined my brother after her last appointment, my other brother and his wife came later, Amy's sister's husband came after work. I remember him coming in and giving me a big hug and telling me how sorry he was. That act meant a lot to me. I’ve always felt a genuine brothership between he and me. I remember the feeling being rather light-hearted considering the circumstances. It was as though a peace had come over everyone in the room and we were content with each other’s company for the time being.
The nurses had mentioned doing molds of the baby’s hands and having a photographer come take pictures after she was delivered. I remember thinking I didn’t want that. In my mind, I just wanted the nightmare of our daughter dying to be over so we could move on with our lives, I guess it was my turn to be cynical. But the more we talked and thought about it, we decided that we would have those things done. Mom told me just do them and if we didn’t want them afterward, we didn’t need to keep them, but that we shouldn’t look back and regret not doing it. Since we had time, we decided to get the baby’s blessing dress to have pictures taken in. I went with my brother to get the dress and a few other things Amy needed. I think my brother came for a specific reason, but I don’t recall why. I was just glad to not be alone.
Going home that night was one of the hardest things I had to do, although I didn’t realize it would be when I went. I came into the house and just looked around, getting that surreal feeling again. I went upstairs and saw the nursery… and I froze for a few seconds. Tears came to my eyes as I realized we wouldn’t be bringing our baby girl home. She would never lay in the nursery we had prepared so carefully for her. For a moment, I forgot to breathe until I remembered that I had a mission to complete. I shook the grief from my mind, I gathered the items I’d come for and we left.
My mother had told me to stop by her house on the way back and get a blanket that she had made for the baby’s blessing. At least if she couldn’t be blessed in it, she could be held and buried in it.
The waiting game for Amy’s labor to start continued. We turned on the TV and I made frequent trips to get flavored ice for Amy to chew on. Other than that, we just kind of hung out while we waited. Eventually it got pretty late and people started to leave. It was after everyone left and the distraction was gone that I began to realize again what was going on; that we were there for a completely different reason than we had anticipated.
Amy’s contractions had started, but they weren’t progressing. The nurses thought it might be because she wasn’t relaxed, so we decided to try and get some sleep. I turned on some soft music and we turned off the lights so we could rest. It was a very restless sleep, it was a few hours, but didn’t feel like more than 15 minutes… and it was cold. There was a bench under the window that converted into a makeshift bed, but there was a draft and my coat as a cover didn’t do much.
I woke up to the nurse checking on Amy. She said it was getting close so they were going to go call the on call doctor. They were also going to call our doctor because she had said she wanted to know when the baby would come. It was another waiting game while the baby progressed through the contractions.
The on call doctor came in and met with us for a little bit and said Amy was progressing nicely and that Amy could deliver any time. But she said they wanted to try and wait for our doctor to come. Apparently she had wanted to be there to deliver the baby. I remember this meant a lot to me that she was willing to do that for us. The actual delivery went pretty quickly. I held Amy’s left leg, the nurse held the right. With a couple pushes, Alexis was born at 6:12 AM. It was a really somber moment.
Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of that moment. With a normal birth, you hold your breath until you hear the baby cry, that sound of sweet relief that lets you know your baby made it. There was no baby crying when Alexis was born… just the chill of silence. The room fell completely silent as the four of us in the room were left to contemplate the birth of a live that never would be.
The nurse took Alexis’ little body and cleaned her off and wrapped her in a receiving blanket. She was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. Normally I think most newborns look funny, like little aliens… but not Alexis. She was perfect. She had a head full of hair, just like we speculated, a short pudgy nose, just like Amy and as she lay there in Amy’s arms, I sobbed.
I called my mother and told her Alexis had been born. She only lived a few blocks from the hospital and said she would be there as soon as possible and spread the news. I also called Amy’s parents and between tears told them that Alexis was here and that Amy was doing fine. Amy talked to her mom for a moment only to tell her parents how beautiful Alexis was and that she loved them.
Our doctor and the nurse left us alone at that point. I don’t remember exchanging many words, if any. Mostly we just held each other with Alexis’ little body in our arms and cried. I remember telling Amy how much I loved her and that I knew we would all be together again someday. I don’t know how many times I told Amy I loved her. I knew it was little consolation, and hoped they didn’t seem like empty words. I do love Amy, more than anything and knew my grief is only a fraction of what she was experiencing, having a physical bond to Alexis.
Amy wanted to dress her in the little outfit she’d pick out that we would have taken her home in so I got the outfit from the bag and Amy dressed her. Her little body was so delicate and the skin was so fragile it would rip in places, which pained me even more. Although I knew there was no pain for her as she was not alive, I still hated to see my daughter in what I saw as pain.
The veil was very thin in those moments and I could feel that Alexis’ spirit was there with us, trying to comfort her inconsolable parents. Till that moment, I had wondered if Alexis would get another chance to come to Earth or if all she needed was that perfect little body. There is little doctrine on the eternal nature of stillbirth children. It makes it hard to know what to believe. In that moment, I knew… she had no need of the Earthly trial. She just needed a body and parents… and those she now had. She would be in heaven waiting for us and preparing a place for us. I also felt the presence of others spirits, who were there to support us through that very sad moment.
The nurses had informed the photographer who would come take pictures of Alexis that she was born, so shortly after she was born, the photographer arrived. She was very sympathetic about the situation and so loving with the way she took each picture. She was a blessing to have there and the pictures she took are priceless. They capture Alexis as she was, perfect. We took some with Alexis in her little outfit and then some in the blessing dress. Holding Alexis was the most difficult thing for me to do. I think it was because as I did, an immense sadness filled me at the knowledge that she wouldn’t be alive. She honestly looked like she was just asleep and that any moment she would open her eyes and start crying. But I knew that would never happen, and the prospect of never knowing my daughter in this life made me cry. It’s strange how the knowledge the gospel brings is so deep and powerful, but it cannot calm the worldly feelings of grief, loss and sorrow we feel. I cherish the pictures I have of Amy and me holding Alexis, but every time I held her or when I look at those pictures, I am reminded of that void in my heart where Alexis’ innocent life should be.
Grief is an interesting thing. We would later meet with a hospital grief counselor who would explain this to us in greater length. It seemed that holding Alexis made me sadder, where when Amy wasn’t holding Alexis, she was sadder. I’m not completely sure why holding Alexis made me so sad, or maybe I was just so emotional over the entire experience in general, that just amplified it. But holding her was so hard for me. But I will never forget the precious angel I held in my arms that day and my arms ache to hold her again.
I don’t recall when, but my mom came shortly around that same time and I met her in the waiting area. She came up to me and gave me a big hug. She told me how much she loved me and that the veil was thin, that there were multiple spirits with us to help us through that most difficult time. She has always been very spiritually in tune. She also bore testimony that Alexis didn’t need to experience this life and that we would be with her again. I remember I just cried into her shoulder and I’d never felt so weak and like such a little child in need of his mother. I remember she told me she wished we didn’t have to go through this and that her heart was broken as a mother watching us lose our daughter. I love my mother for the pillar of strength she has always been to me. She has always shown genuine concern for me. I believe she came before the pictures, but I asked her to wait so we could take the pictures and so we could have some time… just Amy and me.
My dad was also in the waiting room, although I don’t remember my parents being there at the same time. The timeline is fuzzy, but I’m certain I did not see them together. When I went up to him, he just put his arms around me and gave me a big hug… a gesture of love I wasn’t totally used to from him and so it kind of caught me off guard. He whispered into my ear that he loved me and that he knew Alexis would always be with us. We just stood there holding each other for a minute and cried with each other. My father has never been a spiritual or emotional person. I think I’d only seen him openly cry 2 or 3 times in my entire life and I don’t remember ever hearing him bear his testimony, but in that moment, he did both… and I’d never loved my father more. He also said that if we were going to give a blessing, he would like to be involved, which also caught me off guard as I didn’t know my father was worthy to exercise the priesthood he held.
I told them both they could come in and see Alexis. Julie was finishing up some other shots and continued taking pictures as people came. My sister came shortly after and Amy's sister came as well and had brought some information Amy’s dad had sent regarding stillbirths from the gospel standpoint. He had already told Amy at some point that it wouldn’t be inappropriate to give her a name and blessing. I think he had told me the same thing on the phone, but I don’t recall when he would have. The rest of my family came and by the time everyone was there, the cold dim hospital room where we had welcomed our daughter’s fragile body into this world was now filled with the light of a new day. I remember how symbolic if felt that after the cold night a bright new dawn was on the horizon.
It seemed like the right moment to bless my little daughter’s body. So, in her blessing dress, my brothers and father joined me in a circle and there, in that glowing hospital room, I blessed my daughter’s little, gentle body and proclaimed that she would be forever remembered as Alexis Lynne. It was another very special, very somber moment. I also took the opportunity to implore Heavenly Father’s comforting spirit to help our family get through that most difficult time. I don’t recall everything that I said in that special little blessing, but I remember the peace I felt after. For the first time since the whole experience began, I felt like I was thinking clearly.
I gave Alexis back to Amy. I loved watching Amy hold her. It was the picture of innocence and perfection as Amy held our daughter, and softly whispered her messages of adoration. It broke my heart to see her go through so much pain. To watch the woman I love hold the daughter we had given our hearts to.
After we’d spent some time holding Alexis and mourning her not being there the nurses moved Amy from the labor and delivery room to a postpartum room. It was smaller than the delivery room, but just as nice. Amy tried to get some rest while I made phone calls to our Bishop, Relief Society President, and tried to figure out preliminary funeral arrangements. I’d never planned a funeral before and didn’t realize how much was involved, but the hospital had a lot of information that was helpful and a friend from our ward called telling me that her father is a funeral director. I talked to him and he gave me an idea of what I needed to get and some things to look for. The information the hospital had given us included a list of cemeteries/funeral homes and the services they had for infant/stillbirth funerals. I was amazed at how generous some of them were. A lot of them offered free/discount portions. My mom and dad were helping me with the arrangements. We called a few different places and finally we decided to use a plot where my Great Grandparents are buried. My Great Grandparents had a son that died at the age of 9, so he only took up half of a spot when he was buried. There was enough room for an infant casket in that spot. My mom took the task of getting the required documentation and consents from my uncles for us to have claim to the spot. There wasn’t a lot of other planning we could do until Amy had physically recovered from the delivery and we were out of the hospital.
I was running on about 4 hours of sleep, and it was early afternoon by this time. My mom made me take some sleep aids so I would be able to get some rest. I was in and out of sleep throughout the rest of the day, between people coming and going and nurses checking on Amy. The nurses were so nice to us; so thoughtful of our every comfort. I will never forget the nurse who attended to us that first night without Alexis. I only vaguely remember her coming into the room in the middle of the night to check on Amy and before she left, placed a warm blanket over me while I was half asleep on the window bed. That small act left an impression of caring on me.
The next morning Amy’s mom arrived. We had the nurses bring Alexis’ body so Amy's mom could hold her. Alexis didn’t look the same when they brought her in, but she was still our beautiful little girl. The nurses had told us what to expect (darkened lips, fingernails, skin). It was still hard for me to hold her. Her helpless little body just made me wish there was some way to bring her back. I began to think of stories from ancient mythology about brave heroes risking odds to go to the netherworld to bring their loved ones back. If there had been a way, I would have done it, regardless of any risk. I just wanted to feel whole again… because I didn’t. Since we’d found out Alexis had died, I felt like a part of me had died too and I would never get that part back… at least not in this world.
I wanted to leave the hospital as soon as we could. That hospital was forever a reminder of the death of my daughter. Amy wasn’t so eager to leave because leaving meant we were going home without the baby we had so anticipated… Another difference in grief, I suppose.
We did leave the hospital that day. Amy's Grandma had come at some point and was helping to take all of the flowers we’d received while in the hospital to our house. I was overwhelmed by how many there were. I can’t attempt to recall on my own all the people who sent us flowers with cards of love and support. I am so grateful to think there were so many people praying for us during that hard time. I know it was their love and prayers that helped us through those very difficult first days.
From the hospital, we went to the funeral home to start preparations for Alexis’ funeral service/burial. The cemetery had a free casket for infants that served as both casket and vault, but when I saw it, it looked so cold and lonely. I couldn’t bear the thought of placing our angel in what I saw as an awful looking plastic box. I was concerned about the money, but felt like we should do everything possible to give my little princess the resting place she deserved. Through the kindness and generosity of Amy’s parents, we were able to get a beautiful wood casket and cement vault. We also ordered a beautiful pink and white casket flower piece and standing piece.
The funeral was on January 20th. It was a beautiful sunny day. Cold, but sunny. The kind of day that you hope for on a special occasion. We met at the funeral home and Amy and her mom went to dress Alexis for her funeral while I made sure everything was ready for the service. We didn’t have a long or very elaborate service planned. It was a small, intimate gathering but we wanted it to be perfect for our perfect baby girl.
After they were done dressing Alexis, I went down and held my daughter for the last time in this life. She felt so cold and I couldn’t help but sob at the prospect of never being able to see/hold her again until the next life, but she was beautiful. She looked so perfect and again, I felt like any moment she would wake up from her eternal slumber and cry… but she never would. My mom and Amy’s dad came in too and held Alexis. Then, we left her to be prepared for burial. She was placed gently into her casket, wrapped in the blessing blanket my mother had crocheted for her. I brought her stuffed monkey to keep close; I wanted her to keep the monkey that I had wanted her to cherish and be a comfort for her in this life. Amy would later surprise me by getting another identical monkey. It has come to be a security for me and has served as an extension to my beloved daughter when I feel sad and miss her.
The service was as beautiful as we could have hoped for. Our Bishop graciously conducted, Amy's sister read a quote from Joseph Smith, my sister read a poem. We played the video of the amazing pictures that had been taken and sobbed as the memories of that day reopened fresh wounds. Amy's grandma sang the hymn “Be Still My Soul,” a song that had become an anthem for me during that week. Then we went out to the cemetery to lay our daughter to rest. Amy’s dad and I carried the casket to the limo they had for us to ride in and onto the stand at the grave site. As we sat there, looking at that little wood box, an immense sadness and emptiness came over me once again. “No parent should have to bury their child,” I thought to myself. I felt so selfish, but I just wanted my daughter back. I didn’t want her to be dead. I wanted to hold her and kiss her and watch her grow into the wonderful woman I knew she would have been… but that was not to be and no amount of wishing would change that. It’s awfully hard to accept God’s will in our lives sometimes. Amy’s dad had purchased some balloons to release after he gave the dedication over the grave. It was a beautiful thought. We released the balloons and watched them drift up into the heavens. As I watched them drift away, I silently prayed to understand His will and to know why my daughter had to die.
I still don’t know and I’m beginning to think I won’t understand in this life. Sometimes we don’t know all the answers. That’s were faith comes in. Faith is belief in things we can’t see or understand. I don’t understand why we didn’t get to keep our daughter, but I have faith that because we didn’t, we will be comforted, we will understand one day and that Heavenly Father will keep our daughter safe until we can see her again. And then it’s just Amy and until Heavenly Father sends another little angel to us. Our love for each other and for Alexis will carry us and help us to live worthy to be reunited and raise our daughter in heavenly courts above.
Every day is a trial without her. Our lives are forever changed. I honestly feel different… more somber, more reverent… and every day I miss her, our darling little girl, Alexis Lynne.
-Zach
