It was 11:30pm on Monday, February 19, 2007. I started having very strong contractions. I wasn’t sure if they were more intense Braxton-Hicks contractions or the “real ones.” After several contractions, I was able to fall back asleep so I didn’t pay too much attention. But, every hour or two I woke up due to the contractions.

Some time in the wee hours of the morning, I had to get up out of bed and try different positions in an attempt to ease the discomfort. I tried to remember the positions we had learned in the Bradley classes. I pondered over whether or not to wake up Dave. It seemed early still and I didn’t want to disturb his sleep.

It seemed as though after every set of contractions, I had the urge to pee. I guess that should have been a clue that it was the “real deal.”

At 2:45am I got up out of bed after my contractions subsided to visit the bathroom yet again. Almost before I had a chance to sit down, I felt water trickling out from my nether regions. I wasn’t sure if it was pee so I smelled it – no odor. That was a sign. Then a little gush of more water. I called out to D that my water had broken and it was time to call the clinic.

As he looked for the number, more water gushed out until it seemed that there was no more water left. Soon, I was on the floor as the contractions started coming hard and fast. Every minute or two. Dave spoke with M, one of my midwives who instructed us to come in right away – she would be waiting for us. We gathered a few things and got dressed. I could hardly move due to the contractions. It seemed too much too fast and I felt scared but everything was happening so quickly all I could focus on was trying to breathe and relax through each contraction.

The urge to push started even before I got up off the floor to get dressed. I stood as D helped me dress. I looked at my belly in the mirror. It had shrunk so much and was a tight little ball. I didn’t remember looking that way when I was pregnant with Lily. I started getting alarmed but had to focus as more contractions came.

As I walked out of my bedroom and down the stairs, it seemed as though I had to stop every few steps to endure the contractions.

From the garage door to the car, two more intense contractions overcame me. I wanted to push. I kept saying, “I can’t do this,” to Dave. I was disappointed that I felt unable to endure any more labor and wanted drugs. This was not how I’d planned our natural birth. But at this point, I didn’t care.

D helped me into the car and he returned inside the house to get L. She was groggy but excited about the birth of her baby sister. She asked if Anabelle had “turned” yet. I replied, “not yet.” Then she asked if it was spring yet. Again, I replied, “not yet.” She was confused why Anabelle was coming if neither of those things had happened. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing and we drove to the hospital.

At some point, D had called my parents and K. All three were on their way. K arrived shortly after we did and was able to care of L. For that, I will be eternally grateful that my little girl did not have to wait in that little room all by herself.

After we pulled up outside the front doors of the hospital, D jumped out to get L inside as I tried to extricate myself from the front seat. It was after hours and D had to use the intercom to open the doors. He rushed inside and settled L quickly in the waiting room and then came back for me.

He tried to help me walk to the front doors but I could barely stand. The contractions were more intense and the urge to bear down and push had only increased in intensity as we got closer to the hospital. I grunted words, as coherent speech was impossible. Somehow I was able to communicate to him that I couldn’t walk and needed a wheel chair. He propped my up on the pillar outside the entrance and rushed back inside to get a wheelchair. Each time he went back inside, he had to buzz the intercom to open the door and the doors slid closed after him. He returned with two wheel chairs – one for me and one to prop the doors open.

Finally, we made it inside the hospital and then to the maternity wing. I was immediately rolled into the O.R. per my obstetrician’s instructions to be prepped for an emergency Cesarean Section. As they moved me to the table, I got on all fours to continue my labor. They asked me to lie back to do an exam. I was sure that I was fully dilated. Not only was I fully dilated, but M could feel the baby’s feet.

All around me, people were rushing and everything seemed to be happening so quickly. I remember snatches of images and words. I only got glimpses. D putting on the white HAZMAT suit. M’s comments about feeling the baby’s feet - "footling breach." The discomfort of the exam. The oxygen mask being placed on my face. The anesthesiologist putting in my IV. Me asking if that was necessary. My own words, “I have to push.”

Dr. C, my obstetrician wasn’t present yet as I kept saying, “I have to push.” M’s words were clear and penetrated my clouded perception. “You do what you need to.” And so I pushed. The things I had learned from our Bradley class came back to me. “Push only to the level of comfort.” “Push slowly so as not to tear.” Hold your breath when you push.” “Hold your breath only as long as comfortable.”

My eyes were shut and I was so scared. I could hear D’s voice, calm but commanding. “Open your eyes, Chris and look at me. Look into my eyes. You are doing great. You can do this.”

I opened my eyes to look into D’s loving face. He was right there with me.

Another push and Dr. C walked into the room. It seemed that everyone was still talking about a C-Section. I started to feel a burning sensation around my vagina. I thought that Dr. C was pushing the baby back inside me in order to perform the C-Section. The reality was that I was delivering my baby girl. It was 4:15 am on Tuesday, February 20, 2007 and I had delivered my baby, at 36 weeks, naturally and breech!

Once she was out, they took her away and three or four nurses rushed over and there was a flurry of activity surrounding the baby. I tried to crane my neck to the side and behind me to see what was going on. All I could see was the side of her face. Pink chest, black hair. But she wasn’t moving or crying. Dave kept blocking my view and saying soothing words to me. I can’t remember the words. All I could think was that there was something wrong with the baby. I tried to see if she looked different or if I could see anything that might be wrong. She looked normal. She wasn’t tiny. And she was pink all over. That was a good sign, right?

The anesthesiologist gave me some pitocin to help deliver my placenta and to prevent hemorrhaging. I quickly delivered my placenta with little effort but had still not heard my baby’s cries.

Suddenly, I was being wheeled out of the O.R. into my recovery room. I urged D to stay with the baby as long as he could. Shortly after being settled in my room, D came in to tell me that Anabelle didn’t make it. He left the room after they told him that there was nothing else they could do. I was shocked. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be dead. I was stunned. My mind kept repeating, “No, no, it’s not true. This can’t be true. This isn’t happening. Babies don’t die in this day and age.”

Dr. C arrived after some time to tell us that they were able to get a heartbeat. Dr. H, the perinatologist had arrived, heard a heart beat and ordered them to continue their efforts.

After that, people came and went. Doctors, nurses, family, friends. With each person, we got a little more news. None of it was positive. The baby had been deprived of oxygen for at least fifteen minutes, which was not good at all. She had never taken a breath on her own and was now on a ventilator. They put an IV in through her umbilical cord, as they were unsuccessful putting it through a vein. Once she was stable, they would take her to Children’s Hospital. The helicopter was on its way.

Dr. W, the perinatologist from Children’s Hospital came into my room to update us. She informed us that the situation was very grave. Having been deprived of oxygen for so long, the chances of severe brain damage was very likely.

I asked her about breastfeeding. She said that if she survived, it would be a week before she could be fed. Until then, she would be fed intravenously.

We agreed that D would go to Children’s Hospital and stay with the baby. I asked him to please touch her as much as he could. They wheeled her into our room so we could see her and touch her little hand before they took her to Children’s Hospital. She had tubes coming out of her mouth, nose and umbilical cord. Her little body shook from seizures. I reached out and grasped her fingers. I stared at her face, trying to memorize what she looked like. Dave and Mom also touched her and then she was gone. D and T drove to Children’s Hospital while I recovered and waited to be discharged.

I remember asking the nurse how soon I could have the IV removed. She removed the IV but kept the pic line in place in case I needed pitocin due to hemorrhaging. But, she also told me that if I could pee twice without passing out, I could have that removed. So, I started drinking fluids in order to get things moving.

I peed twice. The nurse changed my soiled sheets and gown. I ate an egg salad sandwich. K came and sat with me for a while. Dr. C came in to examine me. I fell asleep. Someone arrived with breakfast. I peed again. Someone removed the pic. J arrived with M. Dr. C’s shift ended and she went to clinic. K and J prayed for me, D, the baby. Then I waited for Dr. R to finish surgery and discharge me. I fell asleep again.

D called to tell me that the results of the EKG showed no brain activity. I couldn’t speak – only weep. They were keeping the baby on life support until I arrived.

Around two o’clock in the afternoon, I left the hospital and headed over to Children’s Hospital. When we arrived, my aunts were all already there. K, J and L arrived shortly after we did.

D and I took L outside to prepare her. D told her that Anabelle was very very sick and that she was going to die and go to be with God in heaven. There she wouldn’t be sick any more and God would take care of her until we all got to heaven and then we would be together. She was devastated. She didn’t want Anabelle to be in heaven. She wanted her here with us. Her heart broke over the news. We asked her is she wanted to see Anabelle and say good-bye. She did and so we went in to see her.

Anabelle was lying under the warming lamp with a little pink hat on her head. She had little white booties with pink flowers on her feet and was wearing a long sleeve white t-shirt.

D was carrying L and she reached down to touch Anabelle, kiss her, tell her that she loved her and say good-bye.

The nurse asked if we’d like to hold her and then disconnected all the tubes so that we could. She wrapped her up in a pink and white blanket and handed her to me. I sat in the chair and finally held my baby for the first time.

She felt warm and heavy in my arms. Her features look perfectly formed. Her eyes were closed and her little cupid lips trembled. Her tiny nose was upturned and D said she had my nose. She had the very round “Pham” cheeks. She had her own charming features and didn’t seem to resemble L too much.

L leaned over to kiss her again and look at her. I sat with her in my arms as tears streamed down my face. Words seemed inadequate and could not be uttered.

Soon, my family arrived to see the baby and say good-bye. Everyone was crying, kissing her and saying good-bye. My Dad was sobbing. The emotional outpouring was too much for L. She started wailing and then asked if God was going to take all the babies in the room. D took her outside as she sobbed broken-heartedly in his arms.

One by one, everyone left so that I was alone with Anabelle. I rocked her in my arms and sang lullabies to her. I whispered my wishes for a life together and poured out my regrets that we would not have more time together here on earth. I told her over and over again that I loved her and would see her again in heaven some day. I held her little hands and kissed her perfect fingers. I cherished that time alone that I had with her, just the two of us.

After some time, D came back alone. I asked if he wanted to hold her and he did. Tears streamed down his face as he held her and loved her. He handed her back to me and we sang more lullabies to her. Time passed and I stopped noticing. Too soon, I was kissing her for the last time and saying good-bye. I handed her into the arms of her nurse then Dave and I slowly walked away.

Anabelle Grace
Born: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 at 4:15 am
Died: Tuesday, February 20, 2007 at 4:25 pm
Weight: 6 lbs. 2 oz.
Length: 18 inches