In Memory of Easton Edward Connor

It has been a long time since I have looked at this blog.  Shortly after the last blog post, the chalkboard I had made out of a mirror broke; perhaps a sign of what was to come a few weeks later.  I did not get around to posting updates and pictures but now feel the need to bring a sense of closure here.

Life is full of surprises...that was the theme that started this whole adventure.  Finding out we were growing a little baby was the surprise of my life.  Unfortunately, there were more surprises ahead that didn't leave us with a happy ending.  Life doesn't always give us what we expect.  It is not predictable, and it is not always fair.  Statistics are not always in your favor.  We lost Easton at 37 weeks and now, six weeks later, I am still trying to sort out feelings of shock, grief, numbness, anger, and sadness in it's purest, deepest form.  I had planned on telling Easton's birth story on this blog, sharing his pictures as he grew, and celebrating his milestones.  Though there will be no milestones, I still feel that he is our little boy and his birth story deserves to be told.  It is a part of the healing process, and I hope that by sharing perhaps it will reach someone who needs it just as I needed to hear others' stories:

At 37 weeks, we were ready for baby.  I had carefully washed and folded each of his baby items and outfits.  Tiny socks and pacifiers were in their place. The nursery was complete, and all we needed was for our little bundle to arrive.  Cody left for his annual hunting trip, promising to check in every few hours to make sure our little boy was going to stay put until he got back.

I went to bed Wednesday night after a warm bath to soothe my aching body. The third trimester had been difficult (go figure...the whole pregnancy was difficult), I was still working full time, and I was ready to have this baby.  I felt his reassuring kicks as I drifted off to sleep, never imagining that it would be the last time I felt him move.  On Thursday morning, September 26th I woke up and went to work as usual.  Easton was always a slow mover in the mornings so I didn't think anything of the lack of movement.  A couple hours later however, I realized I still hadn't felt him.  I called my doctor who told me to drink something sugary and wait another hour.  If he hadn't made any significant movements, come in.  I did so, and still did not feel those kicks I had grown to love so much.  Since school was out early that day, as soon as the students were out the door I left, joking with my dear friend and co-worker that she may need to be my labor coach because having him early was the worst that I thought could possibly happen.

I was sent to Maternal Fetal Medicine for a non-stress test.  The technician reassured me that it is normal to get a non-stress test and usually everything is fine.  I was even complimented on not having a single stretch mark.  She nonchalantly put some gel on my enormous belly, but as soon as she looked at the ultrasound screen her face changed and said it all.  She silently walked out the door and came back with a doctor.  I knew before he said anything, and the moment he looked at me with tears in his eyes my world completely shattered. He gently put his hand on my leg and said, "I'm so sorry.  There is no heartbeat."  

Everything that happened next is a blur. I don't remember calling Cody but I know that I did and miraculously got ahold of him.  My friend and a family member arrived only to find me unconsolable, held in the arms of nurses whose tears were streaming down along with mine.  I was told I could go home and wait for Cody, or start the induction process right then.  Either way, I would soon have to deliver my little boy who was no longer alive.  One of the most clear moments for me was when I broke down in the wheelchair saying, "I can't do this.  I won't be able to push knowing I won't hear him cry."  Cody's sweet sister knelt down in front of me and looking directly in my eyes told me something that got me through this entire nightmare:  "You are a mom now.  We are strong enough to do anything for our children.  You can do this."  

The induction process was started even though I was already having contractions.  Cody arrived shortly as did other family members who took drastic measures to get there in time.  I will always be grateful to them for that.  The labor was long, and I ended up getting an epidural at the encouragement of nurses and doctors because they said I was in enough pain...I didn't need to endure more.  I was told later that the anesthesiologist was silently crying as he inserted the needle in my back.  I didn't sleep the first night.  Cody curled up in the bed with me and we cried all night long as I fought off chills and fever due to an infection that started to rage.  We had to fill out a death certificate instead of a birth certificate, choose a funeral home, sign consent for an autopsy.  It was unbelievable what was happening to us.  The second day was long as well.  The staff allowed everyone to be in the room with me all day even though we far exceeded the cutoff.  I could not eat and my energy was plummeting.  I hated being confined to the bed.  I wanted the nightmare to be over, but I also knew that when he was born I would have to say goodbye. Three epidural "refills" later, I finally dozed off at 9:30 PM only to awaken shortly after 11:00 PM ready to push.

Pushing was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.  Physically, even though my epidural was pretty much worn off, it wasn't as bad as I imagined it.  Emotionally, it felt like my heart broke with every push.  Cody held my hand the entire time.  The nurses and doctors cried.  As I was pushing I kept praying for a miracle.  That somehow they were wrong and he would come out breathing.  I held onto the tiniest hope that I would hear him screaming his lungs off when he came out.  He was born on September 27, 2013 at 11:38 PM after 31 hours of labor.  The room was silent.

We spent a long time with him.  Our families were able to hold him and say goodbye.  Our church pastor had come earlier and prayed for him.  He was beautiful.  A perfect 6 pound, 20.5 inch long baby boy.  He had a full head of dark hair and his daddy's feet.  I saw Cody reflected in his tiny face.  We held him, dressed him, and kissed him.  We prayed for him, cried for him, and said hello and goodbye all in one breath.  A photographer from an amazing foundation, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, came in  and took some photos we will cherish forever.

I was stuck in the hospital for three days afterward.  I was fighting off an infection with a fever that had reached almost 105 degrees at it's peak.  I was in pain, stuck in the maternity ward with the sounds of newborn babies all around me.  I had so many antibiotics and medications running through me that my veins wore out and my IVs kept getting so painful I would nearly scream.  When I was healthy enough to leave, the nurses who had been so sweet and caring walked me out to the car with no baby to bring home.  In the following days I still had to deal with engorgement, and all the other normal side effects that come from giving birth.  Each one felt like a slap in the face, my body reminding me that I was supposed to have a baby in my arms.  

Easton had a beautiful graveside service and was laid to rest overlooking all of Bountiful.  We released balloons up to heaven with letters attached, and watching them fly up into the sky toward him provided an ounce of comfort.  Family members and friends sent up balloons from all over the country.  Easton's resting place is one of the most serene and peaceful places I've visited.  He lies under a tree, and I've often sat up there to watch the sunrise or sunset with him.  I always manage to catch a glimpse of deer and sparrows while I am there.  They remind me of his woodland nursery and though it may sound crazy, I truly feel like it is him telling me that he is okay and happy in heaven.  The cemetery is located one block from the landmark temple, and each day as I drive on the freeway to work I can look up toward the benches to see where he is, and whisper to heaven that I love him.

I think about my sweet baby boy every day.  Some days are good and some are bad. Some things trigger intense emotions and the tears still fall, but I know that I am healing.  Our doctor says that from the preliminary autopsy reports there may have been a genetic or birth defect.  She has reassured me that there was nothing I could have done, no way to have known.  Knowing this is helping Cody and I on the road to feeling okay again, and having hope that we will someday have our rainbow.  Easton Edward Connor will never be forgotten or replaced.  He will always be our firstborn.  He will always be our baby.  We are thankful for all of the support and outpouring of love we have received from our families, friends, coworkers, and other foundations who have given so much to us.  

Easton's life was a blessing. He taught me to cherish and relish in every moment.  That relationships are the most important thing in the world.  That God has a greater plan that I don't understand but still have to have faith in.  He changed me for the better.  From the second I held him in my arms I knew that I would have traded places with him without hesitation if I could have.  He taught me unconditional love.  Life is full of surprises...but no matter what we are dealt there is always a lesson to learn.  Thank you, Easton for teaching me those lessons.  Thank you for making me a mother.