Tom and I had been wed for five years, hoping to become parents. Following multiple attempts, our initial pregnancy was held in 2016 with a tubal pregnancy that required emergency surgery. We were heartbroken and disappointed, yet still hopeful. In 2018, we received another opportunity for our son, Ren.
At 17 weeks, we found out Ren had Down syndrome. Although taken aback, we welcomed the news and anticipated meeting our special little boy. I had never felt so connected to Tom. My pregnancy was overflowing with love, support, motivation, and happiness. We found that Ren’s gender by a unique airplane drops blue powder colored the sky, a memory we will always prize.
We were ready in every element, like nursery set up, hospital bag ready, and diaper stations positioned throughout the house. Given my previous tubal pregnancy and Ren’s diagnosis, I was seen as high-risk and to part in stress tests. We thought the most challenging part was over because we suffered too much then.
However, nothing could have readied us for the phrase, “It’s time to summon the ultrasound technician.” I messaged Tom, informing him they could not locate Ren’s heartbeat. He hurried over from his job. The space was still 7
excessively still. The technician examined Ren’s body, including his legs, abdomen, and chest. “That’s his heart right there,” she remarked, “and there’s no pulse.”
At that instant, my universe crumbled. My nurse held one leg, Tom managed the other, and I cried out a noise. I’m sure my story resonated across the whole delivery unit.
Our doctor came in, tears in her eyes, and discussed our delivery choices. We selected the quickest technique. Work commenced on April 5, 2019. Ren was positioned transversely, and doctors cautioned that a C-section might be necessary. However, a few hours later, while I was on the bed for an epidural adjustment, I sensed pressure Ren was arriving.
Everything happened quickly. The physician didn’t have time for gloves, so She gave birth to Ren with her hands. Ren Michael Register was born at 3:45 p.m., weighing 4 pounds 5 ounces at 35 weeks and 6 days. He came into the world breech feet and backside first, curled up in a fetal position.
I requested that they clean and wrap him up before I took him in my arms, and it was such a fantastic feeling. Like many others, I felt afraid to view my angel baby. However, when he was in my hug, that fear faded. I needed to keep an eye on his traits: his stomach, his feet, and his small face. His skin was fine, nearly see-through. The day before, he appeared to be alive with energy.
I carefully uncovered him and found his gentle blonde curls, my most beloved feature. We spent almost a full day with him. I lowered the room’s temperature as much as possible, attempting to keep him for a bit longer. I didn’t mention it to Tom; I needed additional time. His lips became dry rapidly, and I spent the night softly hydrating them.
The next morning, a man named John came to take ran to the funeral home. Tom and I placed him in a box ourselves. Then Tom started crying, and then Tom said his last words to him, I’m sorry, buddy, and we will miss you so much dearly.
