Nine years ago, I was in labor with my fourth baby, and Aaron’s first.  My first baby girl after three boys.   We’d only been married a few months, and I wasn’t due to deliver for another 4 months.  Unfortunately, I developed HELLP Syndrome, and at only 23 weeks pregnant, had to be induced in order to save my life.

We didn’t know for sure that we were having a girl.  At the big 20 week ultrasound, Raime was in a position in which the tech couldn’t get a clear shot between her legs.  She also couldn’t see a few other vital organs clearly, so we were asked to come back in two weeks.  She was measuring a bit small, but the tech said that could be due to the positioning and inability to get good measurements.

I wasn’t concerned in the least.  I’d had three prior healthy pregnancies and babies.  I was so excited that I was probably carrying a girl, and that we’d get to have another scan in two weeks.  I naively thought everything was going well.

Two weeks later at my follow up, she was still measuring small.  In fact, she’d shown pretty much no growth in between the two ultrasounds.  This wasn’t good, not at all.  The tech called the doctor to come in- not standard practice- normally they’d send the results over and it would get discussed at my next OB appointment.

The OB took a look, and took my blood pressure.  And that’s when all hell broke loose.  I was immediately put on a gurney on my left side, and given injections of meds and an IV was started.  They brought me down to labor and delivery, where they continued to up the doses of meds in hopes to bring my blood pressure down to a better range.  Labs were drawn.  Lights were dimmed to lessen any stimulation, and the rails on my bed were padded, in case I started having seizures.

I was still thinking everything was going to be OK.  I was at the hospital, they’d fix stuff and send me home to finish out the pregnancy.  My nurse mentioned staying until I delivered.  I couldn’t believe I’d be there for another four months, and said so.  She said she doubted I’d make it to term.  I worried about what to do with my other three kids while I was hospitalized.  It happened to be spring break, and my father and his wife were visiting, so I had a week of help, and a week to figure out what to do after they left.

They put me on mag sulfate and Demerol.  I couldn’t get out of bed, and wasn’t allowed to eat.  The drugs made me loopy, and the days passed in a blur.  I honestly don’t remember much of that time.  I know I had my ex come to Hawaii from NY to get the kids, because I thought I’d be there for a long time.

Labs were drawn every 8 hours.  My platelets were dropping, and my liver and kidney functions were decreasing.  My blood pressure was not improving.  They said there was a chance I’d need dialysis.  They told me if we tried to hold out any longer, I could start losing brain functions as well.  I could die.

But my baby needed to grow more- she’d stopped growing before 20 weeks.  She was tiny- too small to save.  If I agreed to the induction to save my life, I’d be giving her a death sentence.  In the end, I knew I had to do it, I had three other kids I needed to live for.  But it wasn’t easy.  Pushing her out when I knew that by doing it, I was ending her life, was the hardest thing I have ever done.  She passed away during the pushing phase, and was born in the caul.  It’s supposed to bring good luck, or good fortune…

Until she was born, we weren’t 100% sure she was a girl.  I’d always wanted to name a baby girl Raime, after my best friend who was killed in a car accident when we were 17.  When I was pregnant with my oldest, I went to Raime’s parents to ask their permission to use the name.  They gave it to me, but her father said I was carrying a boy, and wouldn’t need to use it at that point.

She was beautiful, and oh so tiny.  She had blonde peach fuzz hair… and Aaron’s ears.  I know if she’d been able to open her eyes, they’d have been the gorgeous blue like his as well.  She had long legs and fingers and toes.  There was not a thing wrong with her, she was genetically and physically perfect.  It was my body that failed.

Through the years, I have made peace with Raime’s death.  She brought Aaron and I closer together.  She helped me appreciate my kids even more.  If she hadn’t gone, we wouldn’t have Lili.  I’ve made the choice to be thankful for the life lessons she’s taught me.

I used to be upset that we didn’t have more pictures of her.  I had my camera with me- I had taken photos of the flowers Aaron brought me in the hospital.  It never occurred to me to take her picture, or take a picture of us holding her.  The nurse did take hospital photos- but not until later, and she didn’t look like herself by then.  Her skin had darkened.  But you know, all these years later, I don’t even need to look at those six hospital photos- I still remember every last detail of her perfectly.

My family wouldn’t be where we are today if it weren’t for Raime.