A Rosebud

When God calls little children to dwell with Him above,

We Mortals always question the wisdome of His love.

For no heartache can compare with the death of one small child,

Who does so much to make the world seem wonderful and mild.

Perhaps God tires....always calling the aged to His fold,

And so He picks a roesbud before it can grow.

God knows how much we need them, and so He picks but few;

To make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view.

Believing this is difficult, yet somehow we must try,

For the saddest word that mankind knows will always be good-bye.

And So when little ones depart; we who are left behind,

Must realize how much God loves children...

For angels are hard to find.

Author Unknown

The Story of Her Life

Well, once in the bathroom the flow did not stop, and so I started to figure something was wrong. I called for my husband to come in and help me. He called the Dr. and the doctor told me to go to the hospital immediately, as I was in labor and my water had broke.

Now I was just in that DR office on Friday complaining about this pressure in my vaginal area and he said it was the baby getting bigger. I complained about lower back pain and his exact words were "your pregnant, that's normal, get used to it." This was my second pregnancy -- first was a miscarriage (same doc's office, and the nurse told me there was no reason to cry when I found out as this happens to lots of people -- she was fired soon after ). I took the doctors word as gospel and figured I was just reading too many books and I just needed to relax and enjoy my pregnancy. Dumbest mistake I have ever made in my life. If reading my story teaches you something, please let it be to educate yourself to the greatest extent possible on pregnancy before you become pregnant, and never ever settle for what they tell you if you just don't feel comfortable with it - push until you get the tests necessary.

I got to Mercy Hospital and they checked me out -- sure enough it was my water breaking. It would slow down to a trickle, but never really stopped. They did not have a NICU unit at this hospital so they sent me by ambulance to United Hospital, which is connected to St. Paul Children's hospital.

I got there, and saw a specialist in the field, Dr. Fehr. He told me that my baby would be born soon. At this point I started to get excited. I was going to see my baby! It never occurred to me that it wouldn't be OK, and that it was not safe for the baby to be born this early. Hell I was a first time Mom and very excited about meeting my child for the first time and holding him/her in my arms.

I asked about it being so soon -- he told me a lot about the new drugs and that the baby was a good size. But that they wanted me to keep that baby in side as long as I could, so I was on complete bed rest and medications to see if we could stop the labor, and would be confined to the hospital bed until I did deliver. Every minute inside the mother counted for a healthier baby. And of course that was what I wanted to.

But you have to remember that I had just celebrated my one year anniversary, and had never spent any length of time in the hospital or time away from my husband. I also ran an in home daycare with 10 kids. I was still grieving over the loss of my grandmother who raised me. And I was almost an hour away from Columbia Heights, where I lived and where all my family and friends lived. It would take 45 minutes to get to where I lived from the hospital.

So I gave my husband a list of things I needed from home and proceeded to call my daycare kids and a few family members. I was gonna be in the hospital till my baby was born, and had to make arrangements for this.

I was miserable, and cried often at night. I was scared because I just didn't really know what was going on and all I wanted to do was go home to my own bed with my dog and my cat to comfort me.

There was one remarkable nurse there that was my saving grace. She had my husband bring my dog in to try and make me feel better. She talked often to me, and brought me books and magazines.

On Wednesday they were just getting ready to send me home on complete bed rest because my amniotic sac had sealed up! Hurray!!! I wasn't gonna get to see my baby, but that's OK - because I wanted a healthy child.

I was so lonely, as the only visitor I had was my dad the first day, and then my father in law came one of the other days. So sweet of him, as at the time he was a traveling sales man, and so it was a big thing for him to come see me. I never felt so accepted by my in-laws as I did at that moment.

Of course my husband came every night :) He came and had dinner with me and brought the mail, and then fell asleep in the chair! :) Guess he didn't want me to feel lonely for his snoring.

And as I was waiting for the doctor to fill out the paper work so I could get out of bed, get dressed and go home, I felt this really strange sensation in the vaginal canal. It felt like a tampon had sort of fallen out. The nurse said "it's not wiggling is it?" thinking that maybe it was the baby's hand. It was not. Don't know exactly what it was, but all of a sudden the baby kicked and a huge gush of fluid came rolling out. Felt like a tidal wave.

There was no stopping now, no turning back. This baby was going to be born right now weather I liked it or not.

It was over in 3 hours. I had an epidural so I was able to sleep a little bit, but when it came time to push, it was done in 3 pushes. It was a girl. 3lbs, 14 ounces, 17 inches, and the most beautiful thing on earth.

And all this time I still really did not grasp the severity of this birth. I mean, I was a new mom -- a first time mom. Finally I had a baby. The baby Carl and I wanted so much and loved so much already.

As I was being wheeled to the delivery room my two aunts and my cousin came to visit -- they were in the hallway, and I passed right by them as I was wheeled by. We had just decided to name the baby after my grandma if it was a girl. I wanted their permission.

They asked me in the delivery room if she had a name yet. I told them Jean Katherine. Still had not heard more than a little mewing sound out of her. They started to take her away, but I wanted to see her. I was given a tiny glimpse of my beautiful baby girl. She had a tiny tiny body, and squinched up little red face -- and a ton of brown hair. She looked like a papoose, which I knew was going to make my moms side of the family happy. They are American Indian. I, however, definitely have the Irish looks of my fathers side!

I really don't recall if my husband stayed with me or went with Jeannie. I think he stayed with me. They wisked Jeannie away to the NICU unit down the hall at St. Paul Childrens, which was connected to United Hospital where I was.

They finished stitching me up and sent me back to the labor room to rest/recover and, wait! I didn't know what to think, but still was not worried. It just never occurred to me that something bad could happen. This baby was loved. This baby was wanted. This baby was beautiful!

They finally came to get us to take us down to the NICU. It seemed like days but I'm sure it was not very long-less than 2 hours would be my guess. Times and all just don't stick with me as I'm still groggy from the birth and all.

We get to the NICU, go thru the washing/gowning procedure and finally see our beautiful Jeannie again - really good for the first time.

She looked so small in that isolet. But so beautiful.

That was the first and only time we saw the Neonatoligist . I started to cry when I saw how many machines she was hooked up to. She had to be ventilated and on almost 100% oxygen. She had to be medically paralyzed so that all the machines could help her. But she was a fighter, I thought to myself. It took them several times to intubate her as she fought them. I don't know, maybe she wanted to just die in peace without all this fuss. Maybe she knew what was instore and didn't want to put Mommy and Daddy thru all this. I don't know. She was like me. Stubborn and wanted her way.

I was still crying (not sobbing hysterically or anything mind you) and asked the doctor if she was going to live. He said yes. It was going to be rough at first, but he felt sure she was going to live and be home right around the new year.

That was the only time in the entire 3 days of her life that we saw her doctor -- or any doctor for that matter while there in the NICU. We only had contact with the nurses.

I was getting tired, so went back down the hall to my room. About a 3 minute walk from the NICU.

Visitors started coming bearing gifts. If they had already had the chicken pox, I wheeled myself down there to show off my beautiful baby girl.

After about 4 times down there a nurse told me I had to call first to see if it was OK to come visit. I had not been told this before. It sorta made me mad, but I did sort of understand.

My aunt and uncle came and took a video of her. I still have not seen this. I ask about it from time to time, but never bring myself to ask to see it. I'm just not ready for it. I have pictures of her all over, and even one next to my puter,but just am not ready for the live movie of her.

I spent every minute down there. I would only be in my room to eat, sleep and greet visitors. I got dressed and spent all my time in the NICU with Jeannie - talking to her, reading to her -- just being her Mommy. I loved her. There was no place else I wanted to be.

The little baby next to Jeannie was 12 ounces at birth. That is the same weight as a pop can. That baby never had any visitors -- the parents lived out of town and had other kids, so it was hard for them to get there.

When I would read to Jeannie I would read a little louder so that baby could listen also.

Once when I was there I looked around and saw that all the other isolets were decorated, but Jeannie's was not. I asked why and the nurse said she didn't know but would do it now. I went to eat and when I came back she had a sign telling the world who she was :)

She had a balloon from someone I don't remember who. But inside her Isolet she had a Homer Hanky (remember those? From the Minnesota twins?) and she had a dog my dad had brought her and she had a ribbon badge from my sister in law that said "Just say no to drugs." My sister in law works for t he DEA. I thought this was extremely funny, as here she was -full of drugs, with a just say no to drugs badge :)

She also had a picture of Carl and I and of our dog. I didn't have one of the cat to put in with her.

Jeanine had a tough time of it at night.

The second day she was there I was visiting her when all of a sudden her alarms went off and the nurse came over to check it out. She said it was an air leak -- or something similar, I just don't remember exactly. She unhooked the vent tube and proceeded to do whatever it is that they do in this case. She was bagging Jeannie when another person in a lab coat walked by and asked what was going on. I have not one clue who this person was. The nurse stopped bagging her while she was talking to the other person.

I asked -- shouldn't you be bagging her? The nurse looked at me and said "oh yeah." And proceeded to bag her.

Well, I guess you have to know me to understand this -- but I was pissed. I have an Irish temper for sure!

I made sure that nurse was off duty when it came to Jeannie and was never to set foot near her again.

The hospital told me it was time to discharge me! I didn't want to leave the hospital, but couldn't afford to stay in the rooms that they had for parents of the baby is in NICU. Plus they told us she was going to be fine, so I really shouldn't have a problem with going home to sleep and coming back to spend the day with her.

The day of my discharge I stayed at the hospital till Midnight waiting for he Doctor. I wanted to speak to him before I went home. I had asked every time I walked into the NICU to speak with him -- they always told me they would tell him and so I would patiently wait.

I finally couldn't wait any more - I needed to go home and sleep and so did my husband as he had to go back to work the next day. He wanted to save his time off for when she came home, so he was still working every day and then spending ever evening here at the hospital with us. And they told me all along that she would live, that there would be some rough patches from time to time, but that she would come home around the holidays.

We went home at Midnight. I was so glad to sleep in my own bed and see my pets. But I missed my daughter and wanted to be with her.

I called when I got home and talked to the nurse, all was fine. I called two hours later and all was fine. I finally fell asleep.

At 6:00 on the nose the hospital called. I panicked. They said we better come on down there. We raced around getting ready and flew to the hospital. Thank heavens there was little traffic.

We got to the scrub up room at 6:45 exactly. We were scrubbing up sorta joking about that this one was gonna be trouble as a teenager - look she's already doing most of her wild stuff at night :)

They came and told us to go ahead and just come in that we didn't need to scrub up. The look on her face I knew that my daughter was dead. My life as I knew it to be and wanted it to be was over.

I sort lost it and grabbed Carl's shirt and started to sink to my knees. The person who told us -- still don't know who or what she was -- took my arm and Carl took my other and we went into the little room behind the main desk.

They told us then, that at 4 am that she started to have trouble. If they had just called us then, or at 5 even we would have made it to the hospital and been with her. She wouldn't have had to die alone. That is my only regret in this. That my daughter died alone.

I could regret that I wasn't more insistent with the doctor that Friday, but what would that get me? I didn't know any better. I was not educated enough in pregnancy. No use regretting that. I can't go back and change what happened at the doctors office that friday, and I can't go back in time and make myself more educated and assertive when it came to this pregnancy. But I can tell everyone I know or meet to educate themself so that this doesn't happen to them. Had that doctor on friday just listened to me and checked me over, did a pelvic exam none of this ever would have happened.

They brought Jeannie to us and we spent a lot of time with her. We called some of the family to come down and say good bye. My dad had the hardest time. He just couldn't bring himself to leave the room. My dad and I are not and have never been close. I have never seen my dad express any emotion other than at this time.

My aunt Susie, whome I'm very close to and whom I consider to be the most spiritual religous person I know was there and we called the chaplain down and we did some sort of service for her - a blessing.

When they brought her to us she was in a tiny little gown that had been hand made by ladies and donated to the NICU for the babys to wear. It was yellow with little pastel animals on it and had a little bonnet with a satin yellow ribbon tie and trim.

They had all the things from the isolet in a bag and gave that to us along with a folder full of information.

But the only thing I wanted to bring out of that room was my daughter. Alive.

Jeannie died at 6:41. 41 mintues afer they called to tell us to come down. And 2 hours and 41 minutes after she started having serious problems. And 4 minutes before we got there.

We went home and my family and Carl's family came over to be with us. I was numb. The only thing I remembe from that day was my grandma doing dishes with her huge diamond and scratching my glasses, and my brother and sister in law trying to get me to eat a french dip from Arby's.

We had to arrange the funeral. I wanted it at the same place and the same flowers as my grandmas funeral 2 months before hand. I couldn't believe I was burrying my daughter. It just was not supposed to happen this way.

When the funeral home came to get her little body that had already been thru so much - the hospital staff couldn't find her. The hospital had lost the body of our baby after they failed to call us with enough time to be there with her. It was almost 5 hours later that the funeral home was finally able to bring her to the mortuary. And when they did she was wrapped up in a towel and nothing else. I have no idea where she was or what they did to her at that time. I can't let myself think about it. I strongly suspect that they did an autopsy anyways even tho we said no. The doctor kept asking over and over that we let him do one.

I screamed at him that he never had time to talk to us when our daughter was dead, but now he wanted to cut her body up? NO WAY! And then told him to leave we wanted nothing more to do with him. I think if he hadn't of left right then and there I would have scratched his eyes out.

I was angry and I cried and my breasts hurt because they were full of milk.

My family thought that we should just have a quiet memorial and not the whole deal.

I said no. This was the only thing I was ever going to be able to do for Jeannie and I was going to give her the best funeral that I could.

Her little coffin looked like a Coleman cooler - those styrofoam ones you get to take to the beach with you. We joked about that a lot - because my maiden name was Coleman.

The wake and the funeral were beautiful, and after the funeral when Carl carried the casket to the car himself there was not a dry eye in the place. How could there be?

Life went on for us - we have two beautiful children.

We go often to the Cemetary and Caitlin and Ellen like to go and bring things to Jeanie and read her stories and sing happy birthday on her birthday. The latest thing they do is bring stickers to put on her headstone. They ask to go ther all the time. I'm so grateful that they will always think of her as part of the family.

My family and friends, and Carls family just want to pretend she never happened. They don't like it when we talk about her and they don't ever talk about her or remember her brithday or angel date. Or if they do, they don't do it with me or Carl.

People all said the usual - oh you willl have more children, it's for the best, it's Gods will...you know the things I'm sure.

But the most hateful awful horrible thing said to me in my life was from my sister in law.

It was about 4 months, maybe more, after Jeannie died, and I had just told her I was pregnant with Caitlin. She told me to be sure not to do what I did to kill Jeannie. I just about died. How could another mother say such a thing? I just ignored her as i was on bed rest and didn't want to jepordize this pregnancy in any way shape or form. I should have slapped her. To this day I wish I did.

Well, that's Jeannie's story. Thank you for taking the time to read it and share the memory of my beautiful daughter with me.

You are cherished visitor

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