The below article was published in the Chicago Tribune on June 13, 2017.
While my situation was tough and unique, it was also very common. Unfortunately, for some reason society somewhat discourages discussing these topics. I was happy to write the piece, and happy to see a positive response and touched hearts.
After losing a baby, parents feel loss—and gain—on bittersweet Father’s Day
By Hafsa Naz Mahmood
Chicago Tribune
Mother’s Day was especially emotional for me this year, and now I’m mentally preparing for Father’s Day — knowing it’s my turn to be strong for my husband.
On Mother’s Day, I celebrated being a mom to my incredible, amazing and perfect 4-year-old son. Simultaneously, I mourned the loss of my other son, who passed away in my belly at five months in late February after my water broke spontaneously.
I am at peace with what happened, and I know there’s nothing anybody could have done to prevent the incident. I clearly remember going to the 20-week ultrasound with my husband and the doctor shaking our hands, firmly congratulating us on our healthy baby. We were told everything was perfect, and the chances of anything happening at that point were less than 1 percent.
We were the less than 1 percent, as my water broke the next morning.
My first pregnancy went past 40 weeks. We had our son at a Chicago hospital. With him, my water never broke. But when it did break during my latest pregnancy, I knew exactly what had happened. I also knew it was way, way too early.
The doctors were all shocked, especially since I had no history of what’s called preterm premature rupture of membranes, or PPROM.
My husband and I waited patiently at a suburban hospital for four days as I drank gallon after gallon of water, hoping the baby’s amniotic fluid would replenish. We didn’t know what to do. Ultrasounds showed there was no more water left in my belly for our sweet baby, whose heartbeat was strong. We waited for labor to begin naturally, but it didn’t.
Slowly, I started to feel our sweet boy struggling. Every day, the kicking inside my stomach got stronger and stronger, and more intense. He couldn’t survive without water. And even if any amniotic fluid were produced, it wouldn’t accumulate because of the ruptured membranes.
Doctors told us the amniotic fluid is what develops the baby’s lungs, brain, vision, hearing — pretty much everything. Our baby still had 20 weeks to go. Outside of my belly, he wouldn’t have been able to survive for more than a couple of minutes.
I had to prepare — mentally and physically — to give birth to our sweet boy. And I knew that baby would not be coming home with us.
Typically, babies need to be delivered within 24 hours of a woman’s water breaking to avoid risking infection. Doctors informed us there were several women who waited a week or more after their water broke who were on their deathbeds due to fatal infections that compromise the life of the mom.
As I was feeling weaker, I felt baby kicking harder and harder, practically begging to end his misery. Eventually the intense, yet gentle, kicks stopped. Completely. I knew baby boy had passed away inside my belly.
This led to my having to do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. I delivered our sweet, angel baby. Autopsy results showed that he was indeed perfect, just as my doctor had said at the 20-week ultrasound.
My loving, supportive husband and I went home from the hospital a day later without our bundle of joy — holding each other’s hands instead of those of our new baby.
Despite our loss, we tried to focus on what we had: the most precious boy waiting for us to get out of the hospital and join him at home — and to continue our fun-filled days together.
Our 4-year-old had lots of questions for us. It took all my courage and every single broken piece of me to tell him his baby brother really, really wanted to stay with us, but he instead went up to heaven and is playing in the skies.
“No way!” Our kiddo responded, completely shocked.
He then looked into my tear-filled eyes with utmost love.
“Don’t worry, Mommy,” he said. “I will stay with you.”
We did a small burial for our teeny, tiny, 1-pound, 13-inch-long precious boy, who will remain a part of our hearts forever.
After being home for only two days with just enough time to participate in the funeral, I became very ill with a 103-degree fever, infection and shaking chills. I was in the hospital for another several days for surgery and treatment. Preterm labor infections are no joke.
Finally, exactly two weeks after my doctor firmly shook our hands congratulating us on baby No. 2, we were home. I had a void in my heart and 20 pounds of pregnancy weight to lose.
I am at peace with what happened. I know we did everything we could to nurture, protect and care for our baby boy — as any loving parents would. Loss is an entire emotion that I had thankfully never really encountered before. It’s as if I now have a sixth or seventh sense, truly understanding loss.
I know my second son is in a much better place now. Throughout the past few months, my husband and I have become stronger individuals with an even more positive perspective on life. We’ve truly and graciously been enjoying every minute with our 4-year-old, but not a day goes by without thinking of our other sweet baby’s short life.
Life is a gift. I hope my husband and I remain blessed, well and able to celebrate and appreciate both of our precious boys every Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. We take solace knowing we were given the opportunity to be parents to two beautiful souls.
Whether you have kiddos or dads that make you smile daily, whether you’ve lost a child at any age, whether you’ve lost your dad, or if you’re an aspiring dad, happy Father’s Day to you from the bottom of my heart.
Hafsa Naz Mahmood is a freelance writer.
