Michael's Story
My son Michael Paul Schaefer was named before he was conceived. He is named for my husband, Brian's, grandfather, and my grandfather. Although his life was all too brief, I do have memories of him. The day I found out that I was pregnant, after two years of trying, infertility treatments, surgery, and a thousand questions about, 'When are you guys gonna have a baby," the stick showed two lines. I was so excited. This was five days before Christmas, at seven in the morning. I ran from the bathroom, down the hall, leaped up onto the bed, and told my husband, "Merry Christmas, Daddy." We cried. And then we thanked God for his blessing.After a relatively easy first trimester, aside from no weight gain, we started to breathe easier. Then, at 14 weeks, we had a minor car accident. We were terrified that something had happened to the baby. Fortunately, Michael's hearttones in the ER were strong and healthy.
Our next scare came at our 16 weeks doctors visit. The nurse could not find hearttones. The doctor came in, visibly shaken, and started to look. Much to our relief, and his, he found it.
Things proceeded normally after that for a while. Two ultrasounds, including one 3D, showed the baby was normal, and most likely a girl. So, we went shopping for little girl everything, and began to call the baby Erin.
I was diagnosed with borderline gestational diabetes, but no one was really alarmed terribly. I just had to watch what I ate a little more carefully.
Then, at 33 weeks, 3 days gestation, I began to feel alot of what I though were Braxton-Hix contractions, and decreased fetal movement. I had known in my heart that something wasn't right. I did not want my husband to go to work that morning, but I could not tell him why. I called my doctor, and he had me come in right then. I went to the hospital by myself, after calling my husband who was working about 2 hours away, and, thinking everything was going to be fine, I went to the labor floor. I had no reason to beileve that after God had brought us through the other scares, that this would be any different. I was taken into an exam room, and the nurse began to try to find a heartbeat. There was none..... I began to cry softly, but the nurse reassured me that this didn't necessarily mean the worst, and called the doctor to order an ultrasound. I was taken to a labor room, and the machine was brought in. My nurse, Lisa, God bless you Lisa, held my hand, and my worst fears were confirmed by the silence of the ultrasound tech. The entire time the ultrasound was being performed, I prayed Hail Mary's over and over. No one had to actually tell me that my baby's heart no longer was beating. I knew..... I screamed at the top of my voice, "No! NO! Erin.... What did I do wrong?"
I told my doctor I could not face telling my husband, so he did it for me. Family members were called, told to come immediately. Labor was stimulated, and the waiting began. I had LOTS of support from my labor nurses, Lisa and Anita, who are truly angels in our midst. I had family and friends, and Michael's Godmother, all there for me and Brian.
All through the next hours, and I lost track of them, Brian and I held each other, cried with each other, and loved each other on another level. He was baptized before birth, under the name Erin Mycala. There has been some debate about that, but my theory is that God knew what name should be written in the Lamb's Book of Life, even if we didn't. Finally, at 2:28 pm, July 9, 1999, Michael Paul Schaefer came into this world weighing in at 2 pounds, 4 ounces, and 14 inches long. Imagine our surprise at his being a boy!!!!!
He was held, kissed, cuddled, stroked, toes and fingers were counted, and comparisons were made as to whose nose and chin (his father's), whose eyes and ears (mine), whose hands and feet (mine again) he had inherited. He was taken to the nursery, not the morgue, because Thomas Hospital has a special place for their angel babies, they are dressed, kept warm, and are steps away if you want them. Lisa (again, God Bless You Lisa) put his hand and footprints in his baby book, filled out his bracelets, and took care of him.
Michael was buried at 4 pm on July 11, 1999, three and a half miles from my home. He rests beneath the graves of my Great Grandparents, whom I had the priviledge of knowing. The letter that you see written by my husband and myself was read by my father at the service. God provided the music of mourning doves, quail, and whiporwhills singing in the trees.
It hasn't been that long since he's been gone from us, but he is all around me, everyday. He is the gentle breeze that touches my cheeks, he is in the soft rain that soothes me to sleep. He is in the song of every bird, the rustle of leaves when there is no wind. I know he walks with me....and holds my hand.
I would like to say thank you to Michael's Aunt Lori for putting this page together, and for being my friend. Thank you doesn't cover it, but it's a start.
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