Delilah Rose

I've debated writing this post for a while but I feel like I've reached the point where I'm finally ready to share.

As I've said before I have a genetic clotting disorder that caused the problems responsible for Caiden's premature birth last June. After doing my own research and talking to a specialist, my husband and I were even more sure we didn't want to risk having another child. Neither one of us wanted to go through what we did with Caiden's birth or put another child through that. So we decided no more kids. Caiden will be our one and only.

Then it happened. We were being as careful as we could have been while being unable to take birthcontrol, and we still ended up pregnant at the end of November. We were both scared out of our minds. I still struggle with grief over what happened with Caiden. As uneventful as our NICU stay was, it was the most difficult thing I've ever been through, and all I did was watch my baby grow and learn. This was something else. I knew what the final outcome would be, I knew what we would endure, I knew what our new baby would endure. I didn't want that. I didn't want another helpless child being forced to fight for their life. I didn't want another doomed August due date.

So I researched. I wanted to know if there was a chance I could have a normal pregnancy, if there was any hope that I might have a full term baby. Unfortunately I kept coming up blank. I hadn't been able to find anyone with the form I have that had gone on to have a term baby. It seemed that most were already on their last child, had been scared away from having another because of their experience, or continued to have preemies. The outlook wasn't good.

December 5th we moved from Oklahoma where my husband is from to New Hampshire, where I'm from. We moved for many reasons, one of which having access to better hospitals and doctors. My first appointment with a high risk OB didn't go as I had hoped. She claimed she had never heard of my clotting disorder and that I only had a 20% chance of developing preeclampsia again. I knew she was wrong and she didn't believe me. I went home and thought on it, then I did more research. She wasn't taking into account that my condition causes preeclampsia and that previous pregnancies didn't have an effect on whether or not I developed it again. I was in full on mom mode, while taking care of Caiden, battling morning sickness and trying to help my husband find a new job.

My next appointment with her was approaching. It was supposed to be around Christmas. I was going to have my first ultrasound. On December 23rd I started feeling different. I was still getting sick every morning but it was fading sooner. I wasn't as tired. I started to cramp on one side. December 27th was the same, I felt a little better, but the cramping was getting worse. I went in to my appointment that day. The ultrasound wasn't good. I was supposed to have been nine weeks. My baby was only measuring between five and six. I was given medication to pass the baby if I didn't on my own in the next few days. On December 29th, around 3am I woke up to use the bathroom.

And just like that, it was gone.


We hadn't planned on having another baby, but I love that child as I love my living son. I had felt in my heart that it had been a girl since the day I found out. I had been right about Caiden being a boy, I don't see any reason to doubt that I was wrong this time. That baby changed me. I faced my fears and accepted that I was going to bring another life into the world, that she would be early and we'd face the same obstacles as we had with her brother. Someone so important in my life shouldn't go without a name. Delilah Rose, my daughter. I cried myself back to sleep that night and many nights after.

The moment that test showed positive I was thrown into what felt like a nightmare. I knew the risk of miscarrying was high. We only told the people in our life who needed to know what was going on. I knew if I didn't miscarry, I was having another preemie. I knew the outlook wasn't good. I struggled to cope. But what happened, happened.

I feel guilty sometimes about being so fertile and "unable" to have more children. I wish I didn't have such horrible genes, I would donate every last one of my remaining eggs. I feel bad that while so many are struggling to start a family we get to go through this. But I am extremely grateful that this happened after Caiden was born. I appreciate him so much more knowing we could have easily lost him for so many reasons.

I have a love for tattoos, there is a story behind each one of mine. I got a play on the March of Dimes symbol (a woman holding a baby) tattooed on my left wrist shortly after Caiden was born. This past week I got a new one to commemorate Caiden's early arrival and the life of the little sister he'll never get to meet. On my right forearm I got a tree with 31 blue flowers for how many weeks Caiden was when he was born and nine pink flowers for how far along I was (supposed to be) when I lost Delilah.