Happy Birthday Weston
The first, last, and only photo we have as a family of three.
I labored for 26, long, grueling hours.
I don’t know why, but in some moments I’d forget that my son has already died. Probably the denial kicking in… I’d wake up from a deep short sleep and see I’m in the hospital. For one moment, a very short moment I was excited for his birth. That moment never lasted long, because reality would set in and I’d remember im here because he died.
I was induced with a lot of drugs. I was 10 hours in with no contractions and only 2 centimeters dialated. 600mg of drugs every 4 hours. My doctor doing everything in her power to try to get me to dialate more.. an early epidural to help make the physical pain not last as long… but nothing.
26 hours later, I spiked a fever very quickly. My epidural had already wore off and they were forced to make the choice to do an emergency c-section. I knew a c-section was a possibility from the moment I found out I was pregnant, but in that moment I didn’t want it. I wanted to labor, I wanted a living baby, I wanted everything I was looking forward to having. I didn’t have a choice, my body was sadly rejecting my baby, and I very quickly became the priority.
“Can you feel that?”
“Yes”
“Are you sure it doesn’t just feel cold?”
“Yes, I feel that and I feel my legs…”
It was in that moment, that I got nervous. Since I got my epidural early to help relax me, it had already wore off. I was told that if I didn’t dose properly within the 5 minutes it took to get to the OR, I’d have to be put under for his birth. I looked at Jack fearfully. He reassured me, that all was going to be okay, and that it wasn’t going to happen that way.
He was right. It didn’t happen that way, by the time I got to the OR I couldn’t feel my legs again. As I laid there with my arms strapped down to the table, I couldn’t believe that this was what I was going through. I kept praying that my baby would come out of my belly crying, and prove everyone wrong. Prove to me that everything truly was okay.
I started to get very sleepy as I listened to the rhythmic sounds of the operating room. I don’t remember much in that time frame, I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to see my baby in my dreams. I could hear Jack from afar telling me to stay awake, that I was okay, that everything was going to be okay. The next thing I knew, I had my sweet boy swaddled tightly on my chest.
He was still, he was silent. God proved ME wrong in that moment (which is a story in itself for a later time).
Weston Mateo Hooker, was born on March 3rd 2021 at 10:04 A.M. He was 2 pounds 11 ounces, and 14.5 inches long.
He looked normal, healthy, and peaceful.. like a sleeping baby.
Jack and I found it interesting that out of all the times that they could of called Weston’s birth time, they chose 10:04 A.M. On October 4th 2020 Jack and I got engaged. I didn’t know what to think of that at first, was it way for Wes to tell us that his soul is still very much near by, perhaps it is. It brings us comfort to think that there is a reason behind that time.
That day felt like it was moving it slow motion, yet so fast at the same time. We stayed a week in the hospital although I was cleared to leave after day 2. I just wasn’t ready to leave my son. I couldn’t do it. I wanted as much time with him as I possible could have. It was the first, last and only time that we would ever get to have with him. I didn’t want to regret anything later, although I realize I will always have regrets about something.. I just didn’t want to regret feeling as if I could of done more to stay longer.
Now that it’s been almost 5 months since we delivered Weston, I feel content with my choice to stay as long as I did with him. I can’t say I’m completely guilt free, however I’m content with that choice.
March 3rd 2021 - will forever hold a very special day in our hearts… the day our sweet boy was born 🤍