Della's Story

It was Thursday, September 7. I was 40 weeks four days pregnant with our first child. Since I was overdue, when I went in for my doctor’s appointment that day, they wanted to do an ultrasound to check on the baby and to talk about induction. That afternoon, we got to hear our baby's heartbeat, and we even got to see the baby take practice breaths. Everything looked perfect. An induction was scheduled for the following Thursday. I was so upset. I was uncomfortable. I wanted my baby here. Later that day, I called around to different hospitals and I asked if I could come in for an induction. They all said, because I wasn’t 41 weeks, there was no way they were able to induce me because it wasn’t medically necessary. They assured me my baby was fine. I accepted that and went to bed. 

On Friday morning, I woke at 4:17 with awful back pain. At first, I was angry, thinking it was just regular discomfort, vowing, “There’s no way I’m dealing with this for another week!” I was able to fall back asleep. At 4:38, the back pain seemed to last a little longer, but I was still able to doze off again. I woke up again at 4:58. I had been waking every 20 minutes and the back pain was lasting about 30 seconds, so I realized I must be experiencing back labor. I got out of bed and left our room. I didn’t want to wake up Kaz yet, in case it was a false alarm. I sat on the couch and called the clinic. After sharing what I was feeling, the woman who answered my call told me that I was likely in early labor. I was so excited. It was finally here. 

I was rushing around, grabbing the last-minute things to put in our hospital bag. I decided to labor for two more hours on my own before I told Kaz. He had planned to wake at 7:00 for his first full day of classes. When I heard his alarm go off, I went into the bedroom and I said, “Hey, I’ve been in labor for the past three hours.” He shot out of bed and had the biggest smile on his face. He was so excited. He got up and we ate breakfast together. I told him I wanted to labor at home for a little while. My sisters have had experiences with really long labors. I thought that would be my case as well. We sat on the couch and we watched a show. After a while, Kaz asked, “So has the baby been moving a lot?”

My heart sank. Our baby was super-active and always kicking me. I was hopeful nothing was wrong, as everything had been well with the baby throughout my pregnancy. I called my doula Lori and I told her that I hadn’t felt the baby move since before I went to bed the previous night. She told me that it was best to just go to the hospital to get checked. I agreed. I called Maple Grove Hospital. They told me the birth center was full and they did not have a bed for me. I was advised to go instead to North Memorial Medical Center. They said if everything was fine and if labor wasn’t progressing too quickly, that I may still be able to deliver at Maple Grove. 

Before we left, I called both of our moms to just update them on what was happening. I assured them everything was most likely fine, and I wasn’t too worried. Kaz and I finished packing up the last few things and got into the car. We drove 20 minutes to the hospital. 

Once we arrived, Kaz parked the car and went in to explain our situation to the hospital staff. He came out a few minutes later and we walked up to the labor and delivery unit. The lady at the front desk asked us, “How can I help you?” I replied, “Decreased fetal movement.” She had some nurses lead us to a room in the back, left corner of the unit. 

The first nurse, Jennifer, came into the room. Seeing our last name, she listed all of the people she knew from our hometown of St. Michael. It turned out her in-laws live across from my parents and they also know Kaz’s great aunt and uncle. Jennifer was kind and comforting, and I felt like we had previously met. I will never forget her. 

She took out the doppler to start checking for the baby's heartbeat. After a long, uncomfortable  silence, Jennifer called for an ultrasound. In that moment, I remember gripping Kaz’s hand and thinking, “God wouldn’t do this to us.” My mind was racing. I started thinking about all the baby stuff I had ready at home. I thought about a world where my baby didn’t come home. I was sure that was not God‘s plan for my life. 

A resident came into the room. She tried to find a heartbeat. So much silence. I looked at her and I asked her if she could find a heartbeat. I know now that she legally wasn’t able to tell me that. She just calmly said, “I’m not currently finding it, but we are going to get the radiology team in here.” I looked at her and I said, “Please save my baby.” Kaz and I started praying out loud. 

Five people entered our room. I was panicking. Another ultrasound scan. The team got quiet. The doctor sat down on the bed. He said, “I am sorry, but I am not finding your baby’s heartbeat.” He covered my belly with the sheet. I asked over and over, “What happened?” The doctor grabbed my hand and said, “Unfortunately, you will probably not get a satisfactory answer in this life. You had an ultrasound yesterday that showed a completely healthy, full-term pregnancy.” 

They gave us time to process this information as a couple. They told us to press the call button when we were ready to talk a bit more. We comforted each other. We called our parents and asked them to come. I will never forget the pain of having to call our moms and tell them, “Our baby is in heaven. Please come to the hospital.”

We pressed the call button. All the hospital staff involved in our care came back into the room and pulled up chairs around my bed. The doctor told me that I would need to deliver the baby, but I had time. There was no rush. He told me I could go home first if I wanted. I knew that there was no way I could go home without delivering my child. I was already in early labor. We asked about our next steps. The doctor told me that because my child had died, labor would be very different. He told me I could be in labor for days. He told me they would be able to give me whatever pain meds I needed. 

To speed the process, they wanted to induce me. I was able to decide when I wanted to begin that process. They told me to let them know when I would like to begin, and there was no rush. Then, the doctor asked if I was Jennie Herbst’s daughter. I was surprised. My maiden name wasn’t on any of the medical paperwork. I said, “Yes, how did you know?” And he said, “You look so much like her. I believe I delivered you 20 years ago.” I think that was my child sending me a sign. The baby wanted us to feel taken care of. The doctor left the room.

Our parents came. We all cried. I wasn’t quite ready to move along with labor. I wanted to talk to our parents. Father Park came and prayed with us. After a while, I sent Kaz and his parents, Terry and Ellen, to get lunch. My parents stayed with me, sitting across the room. My dad asked me who was going to be present through the delivery. We had hired an amazing doula and I had already called her and told her our situation. We agreed that it made more sense for her to not join us for the birth. I was angry, hurt, and confused. I told my dad I just wanted it to be me and Kaz. My dad told me, “I really think you need someone you know and trust there to support  both of you.” I started to think about who that could be, maybe one of my sisters. I knew I wanted my mom there, but I didn’t want to put her through that, sharing in the trauma of being there for the stillbirth of my first-born child. I eventually did ask my mom if she would stay with me. She said she would. 

My mom kept telling me, “I wish I could take your place and go through this for you.” That’s a mother’s love, isn’t it? There was no way I would let her take my place, and of course she couldn’t, but I swallowed my pride and I allowed her to hold my hand through it. Kaz and his parents came back from lunch and traded places with my parents.

I had decided I also wanted to ask my mother-in-law Ellen. I knew she had lost five babies to miscarriage and stillbirth. I asked her if she would stay, and she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I would be honored.” I felt so much better knowing that both of our moms would be there. 

They would be able to help us tell Della’s story. Ellen told me that Kathleen, a lady from our church, was a stillbirth doula. She asked if I would be interested in asking her to come. I agreed. I am so thankful for that connection. My parents came back from lunch and we said goodbye to our dads. I asked to start the induction.

Around 3:00 in the afternoon, Kathleen had arrived and a new nurse had come to replace Jennifer. Nurse Mollie is also someone I will never forget. Regarding the induction, I understood a mother typically gets just one dose of Cytotec every few hours. Because the team was worried about me not progressing, and being in labor for days, they decided to give me four. Nothing happened for the first 30 minutes, but then the contractions started to get more intense. After about an hour, I asked for some pain relief. I asked everyone, “Am I being dramatic?” They all laughed and assured me it was normal. The pain medication they gave me only helped for 15 minutes. My contractions became constant, with no breaks in between. After two hours of labor, I asked for an epidural. The team tried to get it to me right away, but apparently there was a mistake with my blood work, and they couldn’t give it to me until the mistake was repaired and they had lab results. 

I remember our moms being so frustrated. The contractions only got more powerful from there. For anyone who is interested, they would reach 130 mmHg, stay there for a minute-and-a-half, decrease to 80, and then spike back up to 130. My nurse Mollie was also really frustrated. There was a point she was so upset with the anesthesiologist that she opened the door to my room so they could all hear how much pain I was in. After four hours of labor, they came in to give me the epidural. Our moms had to leave the room. The nurses had to yell over me. They were trying to get me to sign the consent form but I was in too much pain. 

They also spotted a mark on my back. They asked me if it was an incision from a prior surgery. I was so confused. I had never had surgery. (We ended up concluding it was an oddly placed stretch mark.) Someone from the team had Kaz sit down. He later told me there was a point where I threw back my head in pain, and he was worried that they were going to put the needle in the wrong spot and paralyze me. After the epidural was in, and I was settled, the doctor checked how labor had progressed. The doctor looked surprised and said, “There is no more cervix left.” Kaz immediately asked, “What? Where did it go?” Everyone laughed. 

I had dilated from one cm to 10 cm in four hours. They placed the epidural as I was transitioning. I had labored almost completely unmedicated. I was so weak and tired that the nurses recommended I take a nap for an hour to regain some strength before I started to push. While I got some rest, Mollie‘s shift ended. A new and equally unforgettable nurse named Nikki replaced her. Nikki came in and sat down with our moms and Kathleen. She had such a warm personality. She turned to my mom and said, “So, I hear you have 12 kids. Are you crazy?” The room was filled with laughter. I remember feeling like I was sleeping, but hearing everything. 

Apparently, after the epidural kicked in, my body had settled in an uncomfortable-looking position. My head was off the pillow and my legs were scrunched up. Everyone kept asking me if I wanted to move into a better position. I said, “No, I am good, I’m so comfortable.” And I was. I was also nervous that if I moved I would again start feeling the pain of the contractions. After about an hour, they asked if I was ready to push. I said I was almost ready, but my epidural was wearing off and I wanted them to up the medicine before I started pushing. 

They gave me a fresh cassette, and it was linked to a little, blue button. I thought the button was a fidget toy to help distract me while I waited for the medicine. I was clicking away, when I saw the machine send an alert to the nurses. Nikki said, “Oh, you can only give yourself another dose every three to five minutes.” I’m sure if I was in less pain I would’ve died laughing. Instead, I asked, “Can someone please take this away from me?” Kaz laughed for me. 

I let the nurses know my body felt ready to push. Our moms left the room. Kathleen turned on some instrumental, worship music. It was so peaceful in that room. The delivery was such a prayer. Before I started pushing, I said to God, “Lord, we trust You. Lord, be with us. Thank you for our child. Thank you for the blessing of being parents.” I felt overcome with so much peace. In between every push, I would repeat. “Lord, be with us. Make me strong.” And He did. 

After 25 minutes and 17 pushes, our child was born. As a precaution, we had the nurses hold up a sheet. They did this to protect us from potentially seeing the umbilical cord wrapped around our child’s neck. That did not end up being the case. I wanted Kaz to tell me if it was a boy or a girl. The doctor tried to hold our baby up, so Kaz could see, but he has since claimed, “There was so much to look at that I didn’t know where to look!” I heard the doctor whisper to him, “It’s a girl.” And he repeated, “It’s a girl!” We cried. We were so happy. Our girl was here. 

The doctor cut the umbilical cord and swaddled her. They put a little, pink hat on her and handed her to me. I obviously have no comparison, considering this is my first child, but I do believe her delivery was just as joyful as it would’ve been if she was living. Our hearts were forever changed. We hugged her, we kissed her. We decided to name her Della Jane Beaudry. I remember seeing Kaz hold our little girl for the first time and thinking, “He is such a good dad. I’m so proud of him and he’s so proud of her.” The nurses weighed her and measured her. She was 8 pounds 2 ounces. She was 22 inches long. She was perfect. She is ours. 

Our moms came back into the room. We introduced them to our daughter. They each got a chance to hold her. It is amazing how much love was in their eyes. I finally understood: a mother’s love is so unique and so powerful. Our dads were on their way. When they arrived, they each took a turn holding her. My heart broke. They wanted her just as badly as we did. Father Nathan prayed over us. He blessed our daughter with holy water. She was so wanted. So loved. We all laughed and we all cried. We joked, “She heard how crazy her parents were and she decided Heaven sounded like the better option.” Smart girl. 

Three weeks later, we sat down with the doctor to discuss test results. The doctor said to us, “I am so sorry. You got struck by lightning.” She went on to explain that the tests revealed a perfectly normal, full-term baby girl. She explained that this is an incredibly rare situation. They said that there was nothing wrong with her umbilical cord, genetics, organs, or placenta. She also told me that my bloodwork looked totally normal. I will have a few more tests done 12 weeks postpartum to rule out other concerns. We asked if there was any factor that would prevent me from having more children. She said that based on what we know right now, I will be able to give Della siblings some day. My next pregnancy will be high risk and I will be given the option to deliver any time after 37 weeks. I have faith that God has a plan for our lives. Jesus, we trust in You. 

We miss her everyday. With every breath. All we wanted was to bring her home. But God wanted her more. Our hearts are broken. God gives us only what we can handle. Even if we cannot handle it ourselves, he gives us people to help pick up the pieces. We are so thankful for our community. We are so thankful for the prayers, cards, gifts and meals during this time. Everyone asks if there’s anything that they can do. There are two things Kaz and I need.

1. Prayers. Before Della died, I’m not sure I wholeheartedly believed in the power of prayer. At this point, I believe that people’s prayers are the only thing getting us through. Please continue to pray for us.

2. Remembrance. Please know that I will always want to talk about my daughter. Please use her name. Please tell me you miss her too. It is my greatest fear that people will forget that she was ever here. I know it can be uncomfortable, but please don’t shy away from talking about it with me. She is a part of us. 

Do not take anything for granted. Life is so fragile. Go outside even when it’s cold. Forgive those who hurt you. Brighten a stranger’s day. Don’t be afraid to love. Find what lights your fire and put gasoline on it.

Della’s life matters.

Your life matters.

Live it. 

If you’ve lost a child or a loved one, I’d love to hear all about them. It brings me comfort to know of Della’s new friends. 

Della’s Mommy,

Mary