AJA DAWN MELLOR
Stillbirth, August 3, 2002
This is their story, written by Karen.
Saturday, August 03, 2002. These are the events that occurred in the past 11 months of our lives.
My husband and I often joked that our daughter picked her name 3 weeks before she was conceived. Don had surprised me with a trip to Grand Forks, North Dakota, a 4 hour drive south of Winnipeg, Manitoba, to see Rod Stewart live in-concert. We had brought along a CD by a 1970's group, Steely Dan. While listening to the CD, we decided that if we had ever had a baby girl, we would name her after the album and title song called “Aja”.(Of course her middle name “Dawn” is after her daddy.)
We were both older parents to be and were quite excited when we found out that I was pregnant. I had a very mild case of morning sickness that passed quickly. I ate well and took care of myself and Aja. I read books and surfed the net to learn all I could about what to expect during the pregnancy. We followed our daughter's different stages of growth, from growing eyelashes and hair, to her ability to cry and hear sounds etc. I took the amniocentesis test since we were an “older” couple starting our family late in life. We were thrilled when we got to see her for the first time on the ultrasound screen, and even more excited to take home our first photograph of her, which I copied and taped to our computer with “Hi Daddy”. (Its still there) We went to prenatal classes, and learned how to prepare for our daughter's arrival. Everyone told me how healthy I was, and how I glowed.
When I was in my 6th month of pregnancy, one of my cousins, who was five months pregnant, sadly lost her baby girl, Katlin. It had hit home for both of us. From then on we held our breath until I had reached seven months. We had learned that if for some reason I had premature labour after the 7th month, our baby would have a higher chance for survival. Seven months came, we breathed easier, we were safe now, or so we thought.
Looking back now, it seems there were little “signs” along the way, that we weren’t going to get to keep our baby. We bought a crib. It broke as I tried to set it up. We received a car seat from a family member, with a piece missing. We had a rocking chair but the arm and back were in great need of repair. The hospital that we planned to attend prenatal classes didn’t have room for us and no longer had the courses available. Every time that we were to go “baby shopping” for a stroller, a highchair, something else would come up till we decided to put it off until “after the baby arrives” .
As my term progressed, I had the occasional sleepless nights, with a touch of high anxiety, the feeling that something didn’t feel right, yet everything was fine. I was healthy and the baby was too. Then one night when I was 7.5 months along, I woke up at 3:00 am. I had a nightmare, that my uterus was collapsing and that I couldn’t breath. I cried and my husband comforted me, saying it was just a dream. The feeling stayed with me, until I wrote it down in my journal. It was only then I could return to my bed to sleep. Two days later, my aunt called. It was the morning of Tuesday, July 30th. She said I didn’t sound like myself. I said I was tired and out of breath. I had only 2.5 weeks left till my due date. At noon I laid down for my nap. I awoke to the sounds the television, of a baby crying as it was being born, on “a baby’s story” . It was about 1:50 pm. At that moment I felt a strong urge to write down my thoughts and feelings of my pregnancy, how much I enjoyed it and how I was going to miss it, once Aja arrived. As I wrote, I felt her move actively inside of me. Since her first flutter at fourteen weeks, I have always loved the feeling of Aja moving. Sadly, this was the last time I would feel her move. In hindsight, I believe it was shortly after this moment, when she passed away. I felt strange for the rest of the evening. I didn’t feel like myself, but there was nothing tangible why there should be anything wrong. I was healthy and the baby was healthy. I took a shower to help calm me and it seemed to help. I had moments of anxiety before and they had always passed. So, we convinced ourselves it was nothing, and besides I had a doctors appointment in the morning.
The next day, I arrived at the clinic for my appointment and felt strangely peaceful. When it came time to hear Aja’s heartbeat, I was excited as usual. I always looked forward to hearing her tiny little heart beat. This time it was quiet, with the distant sound of my own heart beating. I joked that she was hiding. An hour later I was at the hospital, with my husband at my side, looking at my daughters heart, on the ultrasound and hearing the nurses pause, then say, “her heart has stopped”. Somewhere inside of me, I already knew, but I was hoping to hear I was wrong. I couldn’t believe it. I did everything right. I was healthy and took care of myself. Our daughter was always active. The neonatal doctor said my age was not a factor “ a healthy 40 year old is the same as a healthy 30 year old” . We just couldn’t believe what we were seeing or hearing. It was the worst thing imaginable. I only had two and a half weeks to go. This just doesn’t happen. We were sent home to grieve, and try to comprehend what had taken place. We were in shock and moved around in a zombie state of mind. Sleep was difficult and we were exhausted from our tears and broken hearts. The next evening, we returned to the hospital so I could be induced, and then sent home to wait for contractions. I woke up at 2:59 am. and we were at the hospital by 6:00 am.
