This was originally posted on my blog about our pregnancy, Dazed Dad.
I’m not really sure how to blog about something as tragic as Sarah and I have experienced in the past few days – yet, I feel the need to begin to share our experience. Perhaps it’s part of my grieving process. Perhaps it’s so that I can hear from others who may have gone through something similar. I don’t know – but below is one of the hardest things I have ever experienced.
On Sunday, October 24, at around 1:15pm, Sarah’s bag of water broke, although we didn’t know it at the time. We weren’t really sure what had happened, so we went to Labor & Delivery in Walnut Creek. After a few different tests, the doctor pulled a stool over and sat down next to the bed. It was at that moment, that I knew that we were in for some bad news. There was something about the way the doctor sat down on the stool, and began to share with us the news…
We really didn’t have any options – we had to end the pregnancy. We were at 19 weeks and 3 days.
The Delivery
We were given our own room in Labor & Delivery and we waited as Sarah was given misoprostol to induce an early labor. The night was spent trying to get some sleep, in preparation for doing something we never thought we’d ever have to do in the morning. Sarah was given some pain meds to help with the increased cramping, but around 6am, it got too painful, and she got an epidural.
It was only a few minutes after the epidural was in, that Sarah’s cramping became worse and the delivery began. It happened very quickly, much quicker than we had anticipated, and on Monday morning, October 25, at 6:49am Micah Walker Cleaveland (10 ounces) was born and at 6:54am Judah Walker Cleaveland (8 ounces) was born.
What was perhaps most shocking about the birth experience was that they were both born alive and breathing…they had heartbeats and were quickly wrapped in blankets and given to us to hold. Because of where I was standing when they were born, I could see them when they first came out. Micah, who seemed significantly bigger than Judah, was kicking and I could see his tiny little arms moving around.
Time with our Sons
We spent about 3 hours with them that morning. Sarah and I took turns holding them individually and together. Shortly after their birth, one of the pastors from our church came by and spent time with us. Sarah decided that since they were alive for about a full 1-1.5 hrs while they were with us, that we should baptize them. Our pastor was there at that time, and so we baptized them and prayed for them.
Right now I can’t describe what it was like to hold them – to know that I was holding my sons in my arms…I was a dad. I am a dad. And that is a crazy thing to think about.
At around 10am, we decided we were ready – as ready as we would ever be – to say goodbye to Micah and Judah. And so the nurse came and took them. After that, it was a waiting game for the placenta. In many situations like ours, the placenta can’t be delivered naturally, and so they have to do a dilation and curettage (D&C) to remove the placenta. At around noon, the doctors decided that a D&C would be the best way to remove the placenta, and so they got Sarah ready for that procedure. Around then, another pastor friend stopped by and Sarah encouraged him to take me out of the hospital to find lunch.
So we left while she had her procedure, and got back in time to find her in the recovery room, doing well. The D&C was successful. They wanted to monitor her vitals for another 6 hours, and so it wasn’t really until 6pm that they gave her the “okay” to go home, and we weren’t out of the hospital until close to 8pm.
I am amazed and so grateful for the amazing doctors at Kaiser Walnut Creek and for the even more amazing nurses. We had nurses who took such good care of Sarah, and not only cared for her physical needs but her emotional needs as well. We will be meeting with a perinatologist in 4-6 weeks to discuss the pregnancy and to look toward our future. We decided to have autopsies done, and they were going to send the placenta to pathology as well, so maybe we’ll have some answers.
Or maybe, as the first doctor we saw said, it was just, horrible, horrible, really bad luck.
Which sounds so unfulfilling, so unfair and so unsatisfactory, but may be the only answer we will receive.
The Road Ahead
Even as I type this post, it still feels unreal. The whole time at the hospital feels like it never really happened. Yet, each day, we are reminded that we have suffered a huge loss. Every time we receive another flower delivery, or another comment left on my Facebook Wall, or another meal delivered to us from wonderful people at our church, I am reminded that we are grieving.
I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t even look past the next few days – it’s too hard. But I do know that we are surrounded by an amazing community (both online, from folks in our church, close friends, friends I haven’t heard from in a long time, etc.) who is praying for us and loving us and eager to find ways to support us. And that means more than you could ever imagine.
There is still so much processing and grieving that I have to do – I will probably be sharing some of it over on my Dazed Dad blog, so if you haven’t checked it out yet, you can find it here.
thanks for being so honest & open about this brutal moment. prayers all around you, Sarah, Micah & Judah.
Adam – you are walking holy ground, you and Sarah, and your words are part of the way you are finding your way. My experiences surrounding the birth and death of my son, David James, at 21 weeks, back in 1992, remain among the most wrenching, and most sacred of my life. Peace be with you in these tender days and in the days to come.
adam…. i am so very so for your loss.
i lurk on your blogs, your writings here and there. i feel i know you like one knows any social media acquaintance.
and so, when i read your news, i felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.
my own daughter is 13 weeks pregnant as of today. with twins.
i am a minister. a mom. a person of irreverent yet deep, deep faith.
and i have no words. i am grief-stricken for you.
simply know that you and sarah are surrounded with the ministry of silent presence.
grace and peace.
Adam & Sarah,
I was going to email you this but since you’re posting so honestly, I wanted to attempt to reciprocate my genuine feelings as well.
I was among the many who couldn’t believe you and Sarah were having twins and was so excited for you. From the beginning, I knew you both would be great parents (and how you are expressing yourself through this grief is only further confirmation).
Literally, I’m sitting in a Barnes and Noble with tears coming down my face. Again, I am so sorry that you two have gone through this and I pray a special grace upon you, your family and friends. We also added you to our church prayer list (I admit there was an awkward moment when asked how I knew you … “He’s an online friend but I have met in person once … :-). I tell you, on days like these, the internet seems like an idea that God came up with.
We took the exact opposite approach with our many years of infertility and our very early miscarriage. We didn’t tell too many people. Again, thanks for sharing your life on here, I’m humbled by this. It’s your right to never say another word but I have always been moved by how you have expressed yourself – and of course now.
Things are a bit different now for us but it seemed unimaginable just three years ago. Many days from now, I look forward to sharing our stories of pain and celebration with each other.
“The Lord is near those who are grieving” and I am among the countless that are interceding for you.
Grace and peace.
Tim
You are both in our prayers. Thank you for sharing this sad and moving story. Words are inadequate. I have always gained comfort when I am reminded that in the economy of God nothing, and no one, is ever lost.
Adam, beautiful post. So raw and open. There are no words to describe just how sad we all are for you. My wife and I lost a child at 20 weeks. While I believe you and Sarah will go on to have healthy children, I can tell you that you’ll never forget your precious twins. And I mean that in a good way. And you will find ways to honor them throughout your life. Our prayers are with you, man. God is using you in ways right now that you may not realize. And while it will never make sense, you aren’t alone. Peace to you, brother.
Adam and Sarah,
Plase know that you are in our prayers here at Living Waters. I can not fathom the depths of your grief. There are no words that I can find to encourage you in this time of tragic loss. The best thing I can do is to commit you all in to the hands of the Living God. I trust that God will carry you, Sarah and your family and friends through this very difficult time.
In Christ,
Jim Keegan
Jim – the thoughts and prayers of you and Living Waters mean a lot to me. It’s been extremely difficult, and will continue to be so, and so we covet any prayer and support that we can get.
Thank you.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
Adam. my heart breaks for you and Sarah. thank you for posting this.
it is hard to know what to write, and say other than we lift you up in our prayers.
Adam, we lit a candle for your boys today. It was in the St. Francis Cathedral of Cortona. We are truly grieving for you and Sarah. Blessings to you, my friend.
Adam,
There are no words that may ever bring you comfort or peace. My husband and I experienced loss at 37 1/2 weeks gestational. Our Conner was delivered with no heartbeat 18 months ago. We were able to spend time with him as well, but sadly, had to “release” him as well. One of the most painful things that I have had to do as a parent. It helped me to hear that I was not alone. It has helped… and it continues to help.
I will continue to keep you and Sarah in my prayers.
Shannon Harder-Gracie
(friend of Karen Walker’s)
This is awful. I am so sorry for your loss. I hate to imagine it.