It was a random Friday. The sun was up and the day seemed full of life and vigor. The road to the hospital was busy and one wouldn’t possibly feel any hint of the approaching danger in the air…
The hubby and I got up early to pay a visit to my Ob-Gyne for my prenatal check-up. I was at my 33 weeks of pregnancy then. She was friendly and warm, as usual. She asked how I and the baby were. Casually, I shared with her about the baby’s seemingly lesser movements the past days which I attributed to the limited space in my womb. The baby’s getting bigger, after all.
She, on the other hand, showed a look of concern and said it shouldn’t be the case. She continued that the baby should still be active at this stage. She immediately listened to his heartbeat through a doppler. The heartbeat was stable according to her, but to be able to give us an assurance, she ordered for an ultrasound to be done. The results of the ultrasound turned our world upside down, from one of ease and calmness to one of panic and fear.
The day turned out to be eventful. I had an emergency CS at exactly 12:00 noon and gave birth to a 33 weeks baby boy whom we named Pippo Matthew. Unfortunately, he died after four short hours due to hydrops fetalis and respiratory insufficiency. Somehow, the hubby and I knew it would happen (after talking with my Ob-Gyne prior to delivery) but we were not prepared for it. Things happened so fast we barely had time to process our thoughts and feelings.
Before we knew it, we were looking at death in the eye. It was the worst encounter, ever. Losing what could have been our bundle of joy and center of attention in both sides of our families (being the first grandchild) was indescribable. At first, we thought no words of consolation could soothe the pain we were feeling.
But then, tears and sympathies overflowed. We have never felt more loved and cared for. How could we grieve forever when all we could see were hope, love, and faith from family and friends?
From that point onwards, we could only follow what our hearts felt and eventually desired. To accept our baby’s demise and all its implications with an open mind and a faithful soul. To find reason out of this tragedy. To acknowledge that this loss, though untimely and unexpected, was necessary to make us stronger persons. To believe that God has better plans for us.
It was a random Friday. The sun was up and the day seemed full of life and vigor. The road to the hospital was busy and one wouldn’t possibly feel any hint of the approaching danger in the air.