Matt, Valerie and Madison

Bear with me for this very long post. As many of you know, Matt and I have had our share of struggles when it comes to getting pregnant and staying pregnant. Words can't express our excitement last June when we found out we were pregnant for the fourth time and things seemed to be going well. I wasn't feeling sick, but I was very, very tired. We figured that was a great sign, but in the back of my mind I think I knew something wasn't quite right.

When I thought I was 9 weeks along we went in for our first appointment. They couldn't hear a heartbeat with the doppler and told me it wasn't always that they could find a heartbeat that early. I asked for an ultrasound and was told that wasn't normal procedure. I insisted based on our two past miscarriages. They scheduled the ultrasound for the following week. During the ultrasound, our due date was pushed back two weeks. At the time I thought I was 10 weeks, but was pushed back to 8. I remember thinking in the back of my head that that didn't make a lot of sense. I had been on Clomid and had been tracking temperatures and had pinpointed conception. But they were the doctors, they knew what they were doing.

We made it to the 12 week mark, which for us and our history, was a feat in itself. I continued to be very tired, and was also very hungry but didn't seem to be gaining any weight. Minus being tired, I actually felt good.

When I was 14 weeks along, I decided to go ride my horse (I'd been riding since the beginning of my pregnancy) moving cows with some friends. We spent 4-6 hours in the saddle. I was tired at the end, but still felt great. When I woke up the next morning I had started spotting and had some cramping and I figured I had overdone it the day before. Still, I called the on-call doctor who did not seem happy that I had bothered her on Sunday for such a small issue. She informed me that since I was past the 12 week mark, my chances of losing this baby were very small and I should just take it easy for the day. The next morning, the spotting had not stopped. I called my doctor, who told me I was probably fine, but to come into the office and they would check the heartbeat. At the office, the nurse listened to the heartbeat, which was perfect. I was again told that my chances of losing the baby were very slim and to just go home and relax until the bleeding stopped. Almost easier said than done in my busy, active life, but I listened and took it easy.

This carried on for weeks. The bleeding fluctuated, the cramping continued and I was in and out of the doctor's office and every time it was the same story, the baby's heart beat was fine. My doctor thought maybe I'd had a placental tear. After two weeks of basically being on bedrest on a Friday night I experienced a gush of blood. I called the on-call doctor who told me I could rest and hope it quit, or I could go to the emergency room. I'd been sitting and waiting for two weeks already and decided I couldn't sit any longer.

Matt and I headed into the emergency room. Upon arriving, they did the normal ER tests and called an ultrasound tech to come in. I was so happy to finally be getting an ultrasound! The baby was doing somersaults and it still had a strong heartbeat. As I was watching him do his measurements, I was noticing that everything was measuring small and inconsistent. At the end of the ultrasound he told me he thought the baby was a week behind my due date. Now this really didn't make any sense to me. I went back to my doctor the following Monday and she said she had reviewed the ultrasound, everything looked fine and we would wait until my 20 week ultrasound to decide whether or not we'd need to adjust the due date. Let me mention that I was still bleeding and cramping.

The bleeding continued to fluctuate through the week. Sunday (why does it always happen on the weekends?) I had another gush of blood, this time even larger than the week before. I called the doctor on call and luckily it was my doctor this time. She told me to meet her at labor and delivery. My mom rushed me up to the hospital because Matt was working. My doctor met us there, checked me to see if I was dilating, which I wasn't, and again listened to the heartbeat which was fine. She sent me home, but told me she would get me an appointment with a perinatologist the following day. Finally! I was going to see someone who might be able to actually tell me what was going on.

The next morning, I received a call saying the perinatologist could see me if I got there within the hour. Matt and I dropped Maddie off at my mom's and rushed to the hospital. We were taken to the exam room where the ultrasound tech began the ultrasound. She started taking some measurements, commented that my amniotic fluid was low, and after maybe 5 minutes or so said she was going to go grab the doctor. She also informed us that when my doctor had called that morning she told them that my AFP test had come back abnormal. Abnormal for what? The fact that she ended the ultrasound so quickly had Matt and I very concerned. I had a huge pit in my stomach for what seemed like an eternity before the doctor came into the room. He walked in, introduced himself and shook our hands. He had such a calm and kind demeanor. He began doing an ultrasound, spent a very brief amount of time and said the words that I dreaded hearing. It looked like our baby may have Trisomy 18. My heart sank and I couldn't choke back the tears. I knew Trisomy 18 was a death sentence for our little one. He wanted to do an amniocentesis to confirm, but said he thought the chances for trisomy 18 were greater than 40%. Luckily the genetic counselor he works with was in his office that day and we were able to meet him and he was also an amazing person and would be a great help to us in the following weeks. The doctor did the amnio (which let me just say I hope I never have to have another one!), spent time talking with us and making sure we knew what would happen next and that we were okay, and we were off to head home and wait. I think those two days of waiting were the worst, and longest days of my life.

I spent so much time crying and praying that everything would be all right. Or even that things weren't all right, but just that the baby had something other than trisomy 18. I am an occupational therapist, I could handle a child with disabilities. I just wanted to hold my little baby. I wanted this pregnancy to work. I was 17 weeks along (19 if you add my two weeks back on), I had made it almost halfway. I couldn't imaging losing this baby now. Matt and a good friend gave me a priesthood blessing. I wanted so badly to hear the words that my baby would be fine. Instead, all I heard was that I would be okay. It was then I knew in my heart that I would lose the baby, but I would be okay. Still the tears came, and came and came.

Wednesday came very slowly and at the end of the afternoon I talked to the nurse at the doctors office. She had the results of my amnio. The first thing she said was, "Well, it's not trisomy 18," pause (heart pounding), "your baby has a condition called triploidy." I'd never heard of triploidy. She explained that triploidy is extremely rare and is when there is a full extra set of chromosomes, 69 instead of 46. I said to her, "that sounds worse than trisomy 18," and she confirmed that it was. It is considered incompatible with life. I was numb when I got off the phone.

The next morning my regular ob/gyn called me to talk about the results. She immediately told me we needed to terminate, the risks were too high for me to continue carrying this baby. Really? I wasn't ready to make this kind of decision. She told me I had two options, having a D&E or inducing labor. She was pushing the D&E, as she was heading out of town for the weekend and another doctor would do that. I told her I needed time to think. Matt and I decided we would go to Fetal Fotos, an amazing place that does fun ultrasounds, so we could have pictures and video of our baby. I called and we set an appointment for Friday morning. I explained to them the situation and they said they were happy to do it. Thursday night as I went to bed, I laid there feeling the baby wiggling and kicking and couldn't even imagine what we were going to go through next.

Friday morning we went in. I had a feeling that I wouldn't make it much further into the pregnancy, but I was just hoping that the baby would be alive for the pictures and video. When we got to Fetal Fotos, Haley, our ultrasound tech, was amazing. She found that our little baby's heart had stopped beating and confirmed that our baby was a girl. Haley spent almost 2 1/2 hours with us and was able to get some great photos.

We decided to name our little girl Grace. And now that her little heart had stopped beating it was time to make some decisions. I have to admit, I was naive and had no idea what the D&E was that my doctor had been pushing. So I looked it up on the internet and immediately burst into tears. This was my baby, alive or not, I couldn't do that to her. I would be haunted for life. I called my doctor and told her I wanted to induce labor. She was going out of town so we would wait until Monday morning. What a long weekend.

Sunday night I had to meet my doctor in her office to put in laminaria to help start the labor process. She had told me to plan for a long day on Monday as the body isn't ready to go into labor at this point (based on my temperature chart from the Clomid, I was 20 weeks, but based on my first ultrasound my due date was pushed back to 18 weeks). Monday morning I work up at 5 am to contractions. I got up, showered and got ready as I was supposed to call the hospital at 7. By 7 my contractions were a minute or less apart and I wasn't a happy camper. I called the hospital, told them my name and they immediately told me they were swamped and I needed to call them back in an hour. Not a possibility. I explained the situation and they told me to come in.

Upon arriving at the hospital, my water broke in the parking lot and that was just the beginning to a crazy day. I won't go into the hospital part of the day as it was kind of a joke, we could have sworn we were on Candid Camera it was so ridiculous. Our nurse was horrible, our doctor was horrible and the rest of the hospital staff were horrible. But that's another story.

The morning went very quickly. Baby Grace was born at 8:16 and she was a tiny 6 inches long and only 2 ounces. Much smaller than she should have been, which is a characteristic of the triploidy. Matt and I were so lucky to have my mom, my sweet aunt Sherri, and my amazing friend Cindy there with us to share in Grace's sweet spirit. We were able to spend three precious hours with our little angel. We took pictures, got her handprints and footprints and did foot castings. I was prepared that she may have some deformities, but she was a perfectly formed, tiny little person. She had ten fingers and ten toes, the most adorable feet I've ever seen and the sweetest little lips.

Matt and I had decided before she was born that the best way for us to remember her, and for her do as much for the world as she had done for us, was to donate her body for research. We were lucky enough to have an amazing genetic counselor who was able to find someone at the local children's hospital who would take Grace's little body.

I always remember hearing from people who had lost babies that it was such a spiritual experience that they were grateful to have gone through, and thinking they were crazy. I would never be able to handle something like that. Or so I thought. Losing Grace was definitely the most difficult thing I've ever been through but I wouldn't change it for the world. It actually was an amazing experience. I was able to feel her sweet spirit around me through the whole experience, and I still feel her today. I can honestly say I've never felt so close to my family and friends, and most importantly to my Father in Heaven. In my previous two miscarriages my tendency was to internalize the pain and deal with it on my own. I learned so much about life and the importance of paying attention to the little things, staying close to the ones you love and making sure they know how much you love them. Grace taught me a lot about life and the love of my Father in Heaven. She also helped me realize what a miracle my little Maddie is and helped me to not take her for granted. God never gives us more than we can handle, and we need to take every experience, learn from it and make ourselves and our families better. Grace helped me to see that.

Today as I finish writing this it is June 1st, exactly 7 months from the day we celebrated Grace's birthday (November 1st), two months to the day from her due date (April 1st). I find myself 19 weeks pregnant with another little girl, due October 27th (pretty darn close to November 1st). It is amazing to me that with all the difficulties we've had in the past, how quickly we were able to get pregnant again. I can't help but feel like Grace, my little guardian angel, has had a hand in all the good things that are in the works for our family. So far, everything is looking great with this pregnancy and we are very hopeful that we'll be able to bring this new little one home.