Monday, November 23, 2009

I TOLD you so....

I told you...that you needed to meet my OB doctor this time.  You went through three pregnancies and only to 4 total doctor visits.  I told you that I wanted you to meet my new OB before you met in a emergency or later at deliver.  You ended up having to see him one to two times a week.  I told you so.

I told you...that the sex of the baby didn't matter.  All I ever cared about, after working as a nurse in L&D, was that I made it to term with a happy and healthy baby.  We found out at her 19 wk ultrasound that she might have a lethal condition.  I told you so.

I told you...not to leave me with the boys during the ultrasound to race to that meeting.  I hadn't seen the radiologist yet.  You left and then had to race back after I cried on the phone that there was something wrong.  I told you so.

I told you...that if the amnio results were normal, that there might be something seriously wrong still.  We found out that she had a dwarfism, possibly lethal.  I told you so.

I told you...that I didn't want to call the perinatologists office to nag for results from the fetal MRI.  I found out on the phone from a uncaring nurse who had no idea what she was reading to me, a nurse, who understood that our daughter had the main diagnosis of lethal dwarfism.  I told you so.

I told you...that if there was no growth at the 28 wk ultrasound, she would not make it.  You worried that she might be a child that stayed in the hospital for the remainder of her life.  You thought she could possibly ruin our lives financially and destroy all that we saved to send our boys to college.  She didn't have any growth, which meant she wouldn't make it and be a burden.  I told you so.

I told you...that I was meeting with Fr. Drew, the spiritual director at church, and the funeral home.  You thought it was jumping the gun.  Fr. taught me the exact steps for baptism and gave me a vial of healing water from Lourdes, France.  You used it to baptize your daughter before she passed.  I told you so.

I told you...that I bought an outfit and memory box before her birth. I wanted to wash her clothes so they smelled like home.  She would have been wrapped up in a hospital blanket, naked.  Instead, we were able to dress and undress her as s child we loved.  I told you so.

I told you...that I set up Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographer to take photos.  You didn't want a stranger coming.  Thank God she came.  They were the photos we used for her funeral.  I told you so.

I told you...that I wanted the boys to be at her birth.  This would be concrete evidence that she was here.  They were able to hold her. They were able to kiss her.  They were able to see our love as parents for her.  They love her.  I told you so.

I told you...that I was sorry that she wasn't perfect with her small arms, small legs, and too tiny chest to survive this world long.  Only one hour and fifteen minutes. Not long enough. 

YOU told me that our daughter was absolutely PERFECT in your eyes. 

You told me so.  Thank you.  I am so glad you did................

2 comments:

  1. I followed a link for your site from BabyCenter to check out your blankets, but little did I know I would find someone who had also gone through the same thing as I. I just lost my daughter Savannah at 29.5 wks to a fatal skeletal dysplasia (we have yet to get an "official" TD diagnosis. I think what you are doing is such a beautiful thing and with every blanket you complete you are celebrating her existence and every angel baby out there. Bless you:)

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  2. If you are interested in having Savannah's name and if you have handprints or footprints...I would be happy to do it for you. Just send me an email at ahgrohs@entouch.net!

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