Thy Deep and Dreamless Sleep: The Dark World of Miscarriage and Stillbirth

By Thomas Daubert

The loss of a loved one is a traumatic experience, but the loss of a child through miscarriage and stillbirth can be just as traumatic. Thy Deep and Dreamless Sleep examines the process of coping with prenatal and early infant death and the heartbreaking feelings and emotions associated with it. Learn how miscarriage and stillbirth are unlike any other tragedies. Find out what can be done to provide consolation and hope for all those involved. The author hopes to give guidance to those who lost a baby and insight for those hoping to understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546254058

Thomas Daubert

Thomas Daubert is currently a science teacher in Oklahoma with a bachelors degree in secondary education and a masters degree in English as a second language. His first published book, Your House Their House, was published in 2011 and examined the career of residential youth care. He and his wife Lynne have a daughter Naomi and four children in Heaven. Tom is passionate about music and poetry and has written a number of poems and song lyrics.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

The birth of a child can be one of the most joyous occasions for those who anticipate his or her arrival. From the news of the baby’s conception to the sounds of the infant’s first cries, the expectation and anticipation of a new life holds great promise and opportunity for love. The development of the child is a long and arduous journey for the mother as both the father and mother ready themselves. The birthing process itself is a painful process, lasting from a few hours to days at a time. Nevertheless, once the child enters the world, all of the pain seems to melt away as the mother gently holds the baby to her side.

Paradoxically, the loss of a child is one of the most tragic moments for those who go through it. Joyous anticipation turns to horror and dread once the realization of the child’s death becomes a reality. Just about every negative feeling washes over you like a tsunami as you come to grips with what has happened. The world becomes a surreal place and everything moves in slow motion as your body and heart become numb. It’s as though people realize what has happened before your brain registers what happens. Just as the growth and development of your child is a blissful adventure and labor of love, the journey through grief and loss of an infant is a heavy burden and a traumatic nightmare for both the mother and father.

Trying to put my experiences of miscarriage and stillbirth into written words is not an easy feat. In fact, this is the third time I’ve attempted to document my misadventures into words that can accurately describe my thoughts and feelings universally. I hope to accomplish two things through this bit of prose. First of all, I would like to give insight to those who have never experienced this type of loss what it is really like. For those who have suffered like my wife and I have, I hope this will provide a guide and support as we journey through this together. There may be no instantaneous answers or solutions to this kind, or any kind, of grief and loss, but I hope this brings understanding and encouragement into the dark world of miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss. As some may view infant loss as short term, you will see that it is a lifelong process and adjustment.

CHAPTER 1

OCTOBER 25, 2010

There were no complications to the pregnancy that my wife and I were aware of. The baby appeared to be developing normally and growing exponentially. Our first OB/GYN guessed it was a boy during one of the earlier ultrasounds, but at the next ultrasound appointment he realized it was a little girl. My wife and I decided on the name Elizabeth because we liked Biblically based names. The doctor said he couldn’t get a really good look at Elizabeth’s heart because of her position in the womb, but he didn’t think there were any real issues. Elizabeth was a very active baby in utero, kicking and tumbling more than our daughter Naomi when she was at that age.

Due to circumstances beyond our control, we were required to relocate because of employment reasons. The third trimester was an especially difficult time because money was tight and our future was uncertain. Nevertheless, Elizabeth continued to grow and stay active. We found another OB/GYN in the city we moved to, but there were no ultrasounds done due to insurance stipulations. Elizabeth’s measurements appeared to be normal, so we didn’t suspect anything was wrong with the pregnancy. We told the doctor that Lynne, my wife, had miscarried once before and she was considered high risk. We didn’t think much of it, since Elizabeth appeared to be doing well. At her last appointment, we filled out paperwork for the hospital, received a flu shot at the insistence of the doctor, and scheduled the cesarean section for the next Monday.

We arranged to have a babysitter watch Naomi while my wife and I drove to the hospital for delivery. The babysitter showed up at 4:30 in the morning and Naomi woke up right before we were ready to leave. Since Naomi was only two years old and cranky due to lack of sleep, she protested loudly about not being able to go. When my wife and I arrived at the hospital, things were pretty much routine. We filled out more paperwork at the front desk and went to our room. My wife changed into her hospital gown and had her vitals taken. Except for feeling bad about leaving the babysitter alone with our screaming child, I didn’t have any negative feelings up to that point.

Things took a turn for the worse when the nurse came in to check the vital signs of Elizabeth. The first thing she attempted to do was to check the heart rate of the baby. She tried a couple of times to find the heartbeat, but to no avail. The nurse dismissed her inability to find the heartbeat to the batteries in her equipment not working. Though the batteries were changed, no heartbeat was found. Another nurse came into the room with a more antiquated piece of equipment from the emergency room, but there was still nothing. At this point my anxiety and frustration started getting the better of me, so I decided to take a walk around the corridors and get myself a cup of coffee. When I came back into the room, the nurses were still trying to find a heartbeat. They thought they found one, but it turned out to be my wife’s heartbeat instead. My wife kept her composure considering all that was happening, but I was about ready to climb the walls. It was still really early in the morning and the ultrasound technician was not yet available. The nurses spent about another thirty minutes in their fruitless search until Lynne’s OB/GYN came into the room

When the doctor came in, she pulled me aside to tell me that the nurses were very concerned about not finding a heartbeat. She told me that as soon as the ultrasound technician arrived, which was ahead of her work day, they would see what was going on. About ten minutes later more hospital staff came in with the machine and very quickly got to work. The doctor held my right hand while my wife held my left. In the room’s darkness, our fears were verified: Elizabeth was no more. There was no heartbeat or motion to indicate things were okay. For Lynne and me, our fears quickly turned to despair and inconsolable sadness.

Once I received the news, I had the displeasure of calling various family members that Elizabeth had died. When I called my boss, his administrative assistant showed up just minutes later. Since she was also a member of our church, she hugged my wife and sobbed with her. At that point, I had no tears; I felt too stunned to have any kind of emotion. The doctor and hospital staff prepped Lynne for surgery as I went into another room to do the same. As I was dressing into my hospital gown, I couldn’t help but wonder what sin I had committed that would cause something like this to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen; we were supposed to leave the hospital with a healthy baby girl, not leave the hospital totally bereft. The surgery was anticlimactic, to say the least. I had the option of holding Elizabeth, but I just couldn’t bring myself to doing so. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her because I was so despondent.

Before we left for the cesarean section, a heavy-set gentleman met me with a small stuffed animal. He introduced himself as the chaplain and expressed his condolences as he gave me a stuffed bear. He and the doctor then asked us what church we attended and we told him the name of the church. I assumed he called the pastor and told him what happened since two church members were there to greet me as I went back to the room. The two church members also expressed their condolences and told me that the pastor would not be available till later in the day. At this point, I grabbed my coat out of the hospital room and headed for home. I felt I had to get home to tend to Naomi and I knew Lynne would be in good hands.

As soon as I got home, I felt overwhelmed with responsibility. Since Naomi was only two years old, her understanding of what happened was limited. After I fed and changed her, I got on Facebook and posted what happened on both my page and Lynne’s. Facebook was still relatively popular and the condolences began almost immediately. I made a few more telephone calls and got Naomi ready to go back to the hospital. If my day weren’t bad enough, I received a letter threatening legal action because someone had stolen my identity (that’s a story for a different time, but it definitely added to my horrible mood).

By the time I got to the hospital, the pastor and his wife were sitting in the room talking to Lynne. They had bought a present for Naomi and gave it to her. The pastor did not say a whole lot, which was a good thing; he let Lynne and me do the majority of the talking. No sooner did the