My Story of Amelia.

At the time I became pregnant with Amelia, I was a Mom to a daughter, Anderson, and stepson, Alex, who lives with us full-time. When I got pregnant again, I really wanted to have another girl so I could raise sisters. I am so close to my sisters, I desperately wanted the same experience for my daughter. I was overjoyed the day the doctor called to tell me this baby was a girl! I told my husband Armin and we immediately decided upon the name Amelia Menoo. We liked how Amelia fit with Anderson, our other daughter, and Menoo is Armin’s maternal grandmother’s name.

I was so excited to be expecting again; however, I never felt very well throughout the pregnancy. I went to my regular doctor appointments and everything was always communicated to me as perfectly fine. My previous pregnancy, labor and delivery with Anderson was absolute perfection - couldn’t have been better. 

At 13 weeks gestation, I started bleeding one day while I was at work. I immediately called the doctor and went in. Even though I had experienced a perfect pregnancy with Anderson, I had also been through several miscarriages; resulting in a DNC, taking pills at home to pass the fetus and then passing the fetus at home on my own. I went to the doctor and they did an ultrasound, after which they said everything was perfect. They told me bleeding was normal and not to worry. So, I didn’t.

From that week on, I went to the doctor every single week for a regularly-scheduled appointment or because something was wrong. Each time, after an ultrasound they advised and demonstrated that everything was perfect.

Unfortunately - and tragically - everything was not perfect. Far from it.

I woke up the Wednesday before Amelia died still bleeding and in so much pain. I have a very high pain tolerance - as told to me by the nurses after my delivery with Anderson (during which I barely felt anything even after the epidural didn’t take!). Armin and I rushed to the doctor, telling them I was in level 10 pain, had a metal taste in my mouth and felt like I was about to be sick. The nurse entered all of that into my chart, and the doctor came in with the ultrasound machine. I repeated my symptoms and told him I was supposed to leave the following Monday for a week in NY for work, but that I didn’t feel comfortable going at this point. He did the ultrasound and told me everything was perfect. He told me to go home and rest and that I should still go to NY.

I went home and worked from bed for a few days until the weekend. By the grace of God, I was able to pull off Anderson’s 2nd birthday on that Saturday. I didn’t feel well the whole day and came home and crashed afterwards, but was relieved I made it through. At the party, we took our last family photo with Amelia in my belly.

Sunday morning, we got up and went to church. On the way out of the church to go home, my friend Denise stopped me to say hello and asked how I was doing. I remember grabbing her arm and saying, “I don’t feel well, Denise. I don’t feel well at all.” 

When we returned home Anderson was in a mood and wouldn’t get out of the car. I grabbed her to get her out and she acted like I hurt her arm. I knew I didn’t but she wouldn’t stop acting like it was hurting. Since I was leaving the next day for NY I told Armin I was going to take her to the urgent care across the street, just for my own peace of mind. 

Meaningful Sidenote - Armin and I had gotten into an argument and he was still in his church clothes, wearing my favorite button-down shirt of his. He was out on the back deck in the July heat putting together a trampoline for Anderson. I looked out the window and saw him doing this and thought to myself, “Look at him! He’s going to ruin my favorite shirt!”

Off to the urgent care I go…where it’s not so urgent. The wait was going to be an hour or more. I texted Armin and he and Alex came to sit with us to entertain Anderson. He used my phone to check me into my flights for the next day. I was in so much pain that I could barely sit there. I finally told him I was going to go to the bathroom. I walked back behind the doors holding my belly, crying and barely able to walk. A nurse came and asked me if I was okay. I said, “I’m pregnant but I’m okay. I just went to the doctor on Wednesday and they told me I am fine.” She told me to go lay down in a room and she went and got my family to come join me. 

I was laying on the table with Anderson when I felt something happening. I’ve had many miscarriages before and this felt like passing a clot or something similar. I jumped up and told Armin I had to go to the bathroom and that it was an emergency. I was running and pulling my pants down as I ran. She was half-way out. 

I screamed. I kept screaming. There were two people on staff at the urgent care that day. They put me on a gurney, but never checked Amelia or me. They stood in front of me, looking at each other and saying, “I don’t know what to do. Do you know what to do?” This felt like it lasted forever. 

Someone finally called 911. Armin and my children were there screaming and crying and watching the entire thing. A fireman came rushing in. He asked the urgent care employees what to do and they gave him the same answer, “We don’t know what to do. Do you know what to do?” He said, “YOU are supposed to tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.” None of them checked Amelia or me. I was still on the gurney screaming. 

The ambulance arrived and the EMT came casually strolling in, with no urgency at all. He came and sat beside me, asking my name and what was going on. I screamed at him and told him my name and that I was 17 weeks pregnant. He didn’t check Amelia or me, other than lifting the sheet to look. 

The EMT put me in the ambulance to take me to the hospital. Armin was able to put two kids in car seats, get gas (he didn’t have enough to make it to the hospital) and drive to the hospital, arriving well before the ambulance. The ambulance was moving at a snail’s pace. I was yelling, asking why we aren’t going faster or using the lights. The EMT said, “Honey, this isn’t that kind of emergency.” He then put an IV in my arm - the worst spot ever during childbirth. The gurney was slamming into the wall at every traffic light. Suddenly I had a contraction and Amelia came the rest of the way out. I told the EMT. He did nothing. 

The EMT called the hospital from the ambulance to tell them we were on our way. We entered the ER, but no one came to meet us. I was slowly wheeled to the same room you would be put into if you were there for a broken arm. Still, no one had checked Amelia or me. 

Armin was there. His parents came to get the children, but he was having trouble getting anyone in the ER to let him come back to me. A nurse came into my room with her computer. She kept her back to me while asking me for all of my information. I was screaming at her and in shock. My arms looked like a T-rex’s and I truly think I am dying at this point! She finally turned around and said, “Honey, we can’t do anything until we get your information into the system.”

Armin was finally brought back to my room. I told him what happened and that he should sue the shit out of that hospital when I die. He places a consoling hand on me, but is crying as well. 

Meanwhile, nurses were in and out of the room, doing nothing and not talking to me. One finally came in and got close enough to me that I was able to grab her scrubs with my T-rex arms. I pulled her towards me and yelled, “You better help me!! Do something!!” She left, got other nurses together and told them they had to do something to help me. Since I was under 20 weeks gestation, I was clinically defined as “having a miscarriage” and unable to be transported to labor and delivery. 

The head ER doctor finally entered and lifted the sheet (that’s it!). He looked at Armin and me and said, “I am very sorry to say this to you, but I don’t know what to do here. I’ve never experienced this. We have an OB upstairs but she is in the middle of a delivery.” At this point, Amelia is in her sac between my legs and still connected via the umbilical cord. I still needed to deliver my placenta. The ER nurses gave me multiple doses of morphine, but nothing worked. After a few doses of fentanyl I finally felt some relief. 

Eventually, that same nurse whose scrubs I pulled before lobbied to get me up to labor and delivery. I’ll forever be grateful for her. Once up there, everything changed. The nurses and OB immediately checked Amelia and me and with such compassion and care. They showed her to me and told me exactly what they were going to do. They opened the sac, took her out and cleaned her up. She was a beautiful baby girl - with all the parts. A whole baby. They put her in my arms in a little pink blanket and I just held her and cried. They asked if I wanted to put her in a dress and I declined. She was perfect just as she was. 

I gave her to Armin and he went and stood by the window and just held her and cried. I looked at him and then I knew why God had him wearing my favorite shirt that day. We paused to take a couple real-life pics of her with us crying and then we took one pic where we tried our hardest to smile for her. 

In a short time, someone was in my room going over my options and asked me if I wanted to do a burial or cremation. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t spell my name if I had to. Armin and I made the choice to cremate and we prepared to go home without our baby girl. One of the nurses promised me she would stay with her until the morgue came to get her so she wouldn’t be alone. 

I had never thought about these questions, let alone what my answers might be. We went home, my family came to be with us and we went to bed. I immediately started therapy with my counselor and with a new psychiatrist, twice a week. I took two weeks off of work. 

Once those two weeks were over and I went back to work, my world kept going on around me as if nothing had happened while I was still very much dead inside. Apart from my husband, I felt so alone. I longed for something like what The Village offers, and a year-long nudge from the Lord is what started The Village of Stillborn Mamas.