3 days before I said hello and goodbye to my baby niece in the same kiss.
I remember on the day I wrote that post. Life was still fine.
I was untouched by severe loss and heartache.
The closest death had ever come was when my great-grandmother passed away quite a few years ago.
Theresa has always been the big sister I never had. We are only a couple years apart in age. Growing up, we were together a lot. From picnics to youth group to being on the same varsity basketball team, and her being a bridesmaid in my wedding, we have always been close.
Cousin just doesn't do it justice. Sister is much more appropriate.
I remember the moment my cousin told me she was pregnant.We were at my parent's house. She hadn't told anyone else besides her husband. I felt honored and excited. It didn't hit me that I was going to be an aunt until I heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. At the 19 week ultrasound, we had the doctor write down the gender on a note card and took it to my friend to make cupcakes for us with the correct colored frosting inside. We met at Paddington's and surrounded by family and friends, Theresa and Dave found out the gender of their baby.
It was a girl.
Alyse Marie was the name they had picked out for a long time.
The planning began. Gray and yellow were picked for the nursery. Theresa decided elephants would go well with the color scheme. They bought curtains, a crib, clothes with baby elephants, yellow and gray everything. I bought her my very favorite book from my childhood, "I'll Love You Forever". I began to make a letter "A" out of a cardboard letter and jute. I set the date for the baby shower, planned the menu, and mom and I figured out how to schedule the days each of us would be babysitting her while Theresa was working and Dave went back to school.
Then came the ultrasound that changed it all. I was in between Corvallis and Halsey on Peoria Road when I got the text. She said "We got some really bad news. Call me when you can." I took a moment, said a prayer, and called her. When she told me what the doctor had said, it felt like the world stopped. In a matter of seconds, anger, sadness, confusion, fear... they all circulated through me.
The news was worse than "really bad". It was horrible. Alyse had hydrops meaning that she was very full of fluid and there was almost no fluid around her in the womb. She was underdeveloped, and there was something very, very wrong. Within a couple days, we were up at OHSU running every test possible, seeing several ultrasounds, and talking to several doctors. I sat there as the doctor looked at us and explained the severity of the situation. She told us that the best option was to terminate the pregnancy. There was nothing to be done, she said, and even if she survives, it won't be worth it. But Dave and Theresa pushed forward. This little girl was worth every test, every effort, every chance that could be given.
During one of the many ultrasounds where we got to see her beautiful face, we saw something that wasn't supposed to be possible. Because of the lack of fluid around her, she wasn't supposed to be able to move at all. But she lifted her hand out and waved. Seriously. I am not making it up. She waved. We thought it was to say hello. Little did we know it was to say goodbye.
We went home and waited for the test results. On Tuesday, May 7, Dave called me and told me the doctors told them they had to go back to Portland now. They thought they had found the problem and could fix it. So, we drove up and waited for the surgery with them. They were going to do a blood transfusion. She was anemic and they thought this would fix it and at least continue the pregnancy to an acceptable age where should could be born and successfully live outside the womb. There was only a 5% chance she could pass away during surgery. Dave and Theresa went in to the O.R. and my husband and I ordered food, turned on the Thunder vs. Memphis game, and played Seven Wonders while we waited in the labor room.
2 hours later I got a call from Dave asking which room we were in. I could hear the tears through the phone. As we walked into the hall, he was there, and all he said was "The baby passed away". This time the world really did stop. I don't remember anything from the moments after. It is all just a blur. Dave asked if I wanted to go back and see Theresa and I followed him, still stunned. I came into the room and I hugged my cousin and in that moment, it hit me. The tears came and they didn't stop for a long time. I talked to the doctor and he told me that her little heart just couldn't handle it and there was more to the situation than just anemia, so there would be even more tests.
I went home that night still in shock. Theresa asked me to go the house and grab some extra clothes and toiletries for them and Alyse's stuff. I walked into the house and avoided the nursery until the very last moment. I walked in and saw her stuffed elephant and I lost it. My husband found me on my knees on the floor weeping with this little gray elephant in my hands. I was so mad, so confused. I had prayed so hard. So many people had prayed. More than anything, I was so incredibly sad.
I returned in the morning after she was induced and was there until Alyse was born at 2:35 am on May 9. I walked in the room and got to hold her. It may sound strange. I know she wasn't really there. I know she was in heaven. This was just her body, empty of her spirit. But being able to see her, see what she looked like, hold her... That was life-changing. She looked like her daddy and had her mama's feet. She was so beautiful, so peaceful. I held her little hand and kissed her precious face.
When it was time to leave, I could barely bring myself to go. I kissed her cheek, told her I loved her, and hugged her for the last time. I got in the car and began to drive home exhausted, broken, and needing some time with my Lord. I asked my husband to turn around and go back several times. Of course, she was gone, but I just couldn't get past my denial.
My grief is still strong. I still cry. There's small things - like my board on Pinterest I made just for her - that I can't get rid of just yet. Her memorial service today has brought some closure. I feel more at peace. I can see some joy now in her memory and the impact she had as such a small person. The love that she taught me is something I have never known. My children will know about her. She will always be my very first baby niece.
Alyse Marie, I love you. You are so incredibly precious to me and I will never forget you. Thank you for teaching me so much in just 24 short weeks. I cannot wait to be with you and Jesus someday. Until then, I will try to make you proud.
I'll love you forever.
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living,
My baby niece you will be.
