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Our Story of Hope- Hickinbotham Family (Hope)

My husband and I compromised that we would wait a year after our wedding before we started “not-not trying” to have a child. A month after our anniversary I found out I was pregnant! We had our 8 wk ultrasound and began sharing with family and close friends. We took “photos” with these people that were actually videos and told them we were expecting to capture those beautiful moments of sharing our first child with them. Everything was going great. I had an appointment near early 11 wks. Once we hit 13 wks we announced to the world the day after my birthday that we were expecting!  At 14 wks we did a little photo shoot in the backyard. Finally, at this point in the pregnancy I was getting excited. I thought it would take longer to get pregnant. I wasn’t ready. But finally, I had gotten on board. I even designed our baby shower invites!

Two days before we were 16 wks we had another appointment. There was no heartbeat. Our doctor walked us into an ultrasound room. The sonographer just immediately blurted out “Oh this is all wrong. Look at all of this blood in here. I didn’t cry. I focused on the payment plan of all things. That was our first appointment on the pregnancy plan thing and what would that mean now?? Silly thing to worry about right then. My mom was at our house within an hour of being home. We had our close friends come the following evening—they thought we were going to tell them we were having twins. I called a few of my closest friends to tell them. These women were invited on my grief journey; I opened the door to them by reaching out. I expected them to check in and felt safe to share my feelings. I texted most-semi close people that we miscarried and that I didn’t want to talk. As soon as I came to terms with the reality and spoke to everyone we felt should know, my body responded as well and that weekend, the days were fine and the evenings were filled with contractions all night and passing an incredible amount. My husband sat on the floor of the bathroom by me in silence. There was nothing to say. Later there were things to say, like how every time I used that restroom, I relived those evenings. Those things eventually had to be said for the sake of a husband that didn’t fully understand all of thing things I carried with me while I was no longer carrying our child. But I am grateful that he was there, and willing to listen and understand my grief that was in some ways so different than his.

I make videos. Our announcements are videos. Since we had just posted our announcement video 2 wks before we found out about the miscarriage, we made a video explaining where we were and posted that four days after we found out. We weren’t trying to rush, but we are both on staff at our church in a small town we were both born and raised—we just wanted people to know and not have to retell our loss over and over again. It was nice for us to each express where we were with the loss, our hope in Jesus, our boundaries for that time in our life and specific things people could do that would be meaningful for us, like send us cards. We barely had anything physical to commemorate that child and I desperately wanted things to hold that reminded us of the truth that we had a child, it was a part of the world, and people knew it.

Six days after learning about the miscarriage, we had a D & C. Honestly, going into the maternity ward could have been one of the worst things but it was so healing for us. The staff treated us like parents, they were so sympathetic that we lost our first child, and treated us with such dignity and care, it really helped us to feel validated to grieve like parents that lost their child.

Another huge moment for me was when talking to my sister-in-law that lived across the country and to hear her heartbroken and grieving for the child she wouldn’t meet and realizing that I wasn’t the only one that got to love our baby, and that I wouldn’t be the only one carrying on its memory. I think all any mom wants is for their child to experience an incredible love in this life and no pain of this world and that’s what our child had. 

Thankfully the God who created me, knows me. He knows I want to do things on my own. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone of our loss. But I needed our community. And we had an incredible community that never let me miss that God was providing for us every step of the way. He literally carried us for months by His local body and other mother’s that were courageous enough to share about their own stories. As much as I hate how stupid I feel for not knowing I had miscarried. This story wouldn’t be our story. I would not be a woman others feel like they can share with when they don’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t be the encouragement others found when they needed to express their loss. God has opened so many doors that had I not announced our pregnancy I would never have walked through. I didn’t get to carry our child for long, but now I have the privilege of carrying the memory of so many precious little ones with their mommas.

It was over a year later, on a quiet winter afternoon that I was doing the dishes and thinking of our sweet little one that I finally heard the whisper in my heart that we should name the baby Hope. Up until then—we never knew if it was a boy or a girl and I had always just called it baby Hickum and that was fine for me. And I just say that because it was so long after! But we’re still on the journey. Trying not to rush the process. Trying to be obedient and trusting and patient. And to continue to have hope. And every time we think of that babe we can’t not be thinking of hope! We’re going to meet someday! Super excited for that. And super excited to raise children to know about this child, and about God’s plan and powerful love  in hopes that when they experience loss or know someone that does—that they are a strong, gracious, patient and encouraging friend during that time. That’s Hope’s legacy.

Zara; their precious rainbow baby.

The Hickinbotham Family with their little rainbow baby Zara; Hope’s little sister.

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Our Story of Hope- Rogers Family (Everly)

On June 30, 2017 my life changed.   The little white test said the words I had never before seen, “Pregnant”.  We got pregnant easily, but I still was in shock!  We then spent the next few weeks keeping the ultimate secret.  I watched what I ate, double checked what medications were safe, drank more water and started working out.  I was determined to have a healthy pregnancy so I could have a healthy delivery.  My first trimester was a breeze.  Minus some added tiredness, I was golden.  Never had any morning sickness and if I felt a little weak, a snack fixed me up every time.

We told family around 6 weeks but waited until the “safe” zone to make our pregnancy public knowledge.  Everyone was so excited and just positive their gender guess was correct.  My response was always along the lines of “you have a 50% chance of being right!”  October 24 we had our 20 week anatomy scan. Our child was being less than cooperative.  Hal laughed and said, “that is you in there!”   I apologized while laughing to the ultrasound techs for my child being so difficult.  Everything looked perfect, just a petite baby at 13 oz.  After seeing my OB, we had to go back to see if we could find out the gender.  Stubborn baby thought they needed to sit with their legs crossed covering themselves.  Hal & I all but started taking bets.  I said girl, he said boy.  The ultrasound techs said they were pretty sure baby was a girl. I laughed a joyous laugh.  Hal became silent.  It was funny watching his face.  You could tell his mind had just started running wild on how he would parent a girl, protect a girl, teach a girl, love a girl.  We then kept her gender a secret until the gender reveal for our loved ones on November, 4.  Everyone was ecstatic!

I had horrible headaches during the week of Thanksgiving.  I figured it was just the stress of traveling to see family all over the northern part of the state.  A week after Thanksgiving and after a stressful day and hormonal breakdown, we went to the store & got a blood pressure cuff.  I felt my blood pressure may have been elevated.  Sure enough, it was.  After multiple readings spaced out over several hours we decided to go to Labor & Delivery Triage, just in case.  I assumed we would go to the hospital, they would set me up on the monitors for a few hours then send me home.  I assumed they would probably laugh at me as an overly cautious first time parent.  And in part I was right.  My blood pressure wasn’t insanely high,  but baby Everly was having decels as the nurse called them.  That is where the heart rate dips low or decelerates.  That isn’t always a reason for concern,  but our sweet nurse had an intuition to have it checked out further.  We stayed the night in the hospital.  Around 8 am, I was wheeled in for a detailed ultrasound.  When your ultrasound tech jokes around and smiles with you, you know everything is great.  When they are serious, you learn real quickly something is wrong.  I started crying.  I didn’t even know what the issue was, but I knew it was serious.  Once the Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) doctor came in, he gave us a diagnosis.  The placenta wasn’t sufficiently giving Everly the nutrients she needed to grow.  She was growth restricted (IUGR).  She was 25 weeks 4 days at this point, but was measuring the size of a 20 week baby.  We were told the chances of survival were not great and to go home and prepare for her to “expire” in my womb in the weeks ahead.

We began seeing my OB weekly.  Every appointment I was terrified there would be no heartbeat.  And every appointment resulted in the same strong heartbeat.  We cried, A LOT.  We prayed more than we cried.  Every day I thanked God for another day with a live baby in my womb.  For a baby to be viable after birth, they have to weigh 500 grams which is 1 lb 2 oz.  That is the smallest they are able to intubate.  And a 1 pound baby would most definitely need to be intubated after birth to assist with breathing.  Lungs are the last organ to fully develop in the womb.  On December 28, we went for another ultrasound.  We prayed for a 500 gram baby!  She had already survived a full month after a grim diagnosis.  We knew God had big plans for Everly.  And she sure loved showing us what a fighter she was.

God answered our prayer, she was 523 grams!  Our MFM decided it would be good to go ahead and start steroids to help strengthen her lungs.  We had also made it to the third trimester which was HUGE! After getting my first steroid shot, my MFM called me from his cell phone.  He told me after talking to the head of Neonatology (head of NICU) he thought it would be best to deliver soon. I’m freaking out.  I have no idea what to expect.  I had my second steroid shot 24 hours later and had my bags packed just incase.  We called the MFM to meet us for the shot.  He told us he wanted to wait a few more days.   My OB was out of town at this time, so I was completely ok with waiting a few more days until she was back.  We scheduled another ultrasound for January 3 to check the cord flow.   This time our MFM was in the room during the scan.  He looked at us and said, “I think I’m ready to see her on the outside.”  We didn’t ask many questions.  We knew delivery was the best option at her survival.  Hal and I had decided the best chance at us having a live baby was a cesarean birth.  The risks of stillbirth were too great with the induction of a vaginal birth.  We went home, finished packing our bags and were back at the hospital less than 2 hours later to get checked in for the birth of our daughter.

At 2:16 pm on January 3, 2018, Everly Jade Rogers came into the world via cesarean.  She weighed a mighty 570 grams or 1 lb 4 oz and 12 inches long.  She literally came into the world kicking!  She was the strongest, most beautiful baby I had ever seen.  Shortly after her birth, she was whisked away to the NICU with her daddy in tow.  She was remarkable.  She may have been the size of a Coke bottle, but once in her presence, you quickly forgot her size.  She had the biggest personality ever!  She kicked and threw her arms around all the time.  At one point, they had to restrain her little arms & legs to be able to put an IV catheter in.  The nurse told us “your daughter defeated me.”  We laughed, Everly Jade didn’t know she was little.  After less than 24 hours she was extubated and changed to a CPAP machine.  This is the same type of machine you get if you have sleep apnea and snore at night.  She was doing so well!  Shortly after CPAP, they changed her AGAIN to nasal cannula.  This is the same type of nasal tube I had been given during my cesarean.  I was the proudest mom.

The only way I have found to describe the next few days is as follows.  She did so well, until she didn’t.  It seemed every time we would get 1 step ahead, we would get followed with 2 steps back.  We couldn’t get ahead of her.  Her belly started swelling late one night.  The doctors did ultrasounds to figure out if she was bloated due to air or liquid.  At the time, nothing could be determined.  On Sunday, the beginning of the end started.  Her body was becoming acidic.  If the acid in her blood wasn’t able to be under control, her organs would start to fail.  The doctors quickly decided to put in some “pigtail” drains in her abdomen to release the pressure created from the bloating.  At this time, we realized she had liquid in her abdomen which was probably causing the acidity.  We were sat in a room with the doctor and asked the question no parent is ever ready to answer.  “Do you want us to resuscitate your daughter if her heart rate drops?”  Hal and I looked at each other.  We weren’t ready for this type of parenthood.  I finally answered, “can you resuscitate her until we can make a decision based on the situation?”  The doctor agreed and assured us that could be done.  She also told us if her acidity level didn’t change, her organs would begin failing and in a sense she would become pickled from the inside out.  We didn’t know what to do.  So, we prayed.  We asked our friends to pray, our families to pray.  We even asked our preacher to come pray with us as soon as he was done with his Sunday sermon.  We were so close to losing our baby girl.  After her next blood gas, the doctor came to us in disbelief.  Her ph level was starting to come back to normal.  We were overjoyed.  Her next blood gas came back.  It was right where it needed to be.  That evening, I asked the doctor if she was going to sleep that night.  She probably thought I was crazy.  I wanted to know if she felt comfortable enough to close her eyes that night or if she would be near in case of another episode. She told me, she was going to sleep so I should too.  I took great relief in that, and did my best to rest.   She congratulated us again on our daughter. She knew congratulations were in order because of the close call of losing her.  Monday was slightly better than Sunday, but just as bad in a sense.  Due to how distended Everly’s belly was over the weekend, her lungs ended up collapsing.  I stood outside her room, while another surgery took place on my 1 lb diva.  This time, they were placing tubes in her lungs to help where they had collapsed.  At this point, my angel baby is on sedatives and paralytics.  It’s hard seeing our baby lay there so still.  They placed her on the paralytic since she was such a wiggle worm!  They were afraid she would start tugging on drains or tubes that she didn’t need to be messing with.  She was notorious for pulling on tubes.  That night, we went home to rest and left my dad on Everly watch for the second night in a row. It was the worst feeling of my life.  I had a feeling I didn’t need to be far from my baby girl, but I also knew I was helpless in her care.  Around 2:30 or 3:00am, my dad called Hal and told him it was time for us to come.  The doctors were running out of options.  According to my dad, before we got there the monitor screen was blank.  No heart beat, no blood pressure, no oxygen.  He circled the doctors, nurses, my mom (who had beat us there) and anyone else in the room and prayed.  He was terrified we would walk in and see the blank monitors.  After praying, a beep occurred and everyone looked up.  Her heart rate was back where it should be.  Another beep, her oxygen level was picking up.  Another beep, her oxygen level was back to 100%.  Everyone in the room starred in awe at the monitors.  The doctor told my dad, “I believe we just witnessed Divine Intervention.”  Hal and I walk in at this moment.  I couldn’t understand what the fuss was about, her levels looked great!  Her blood pressure wasn’t measuring but I figured she had just moved where it wasn’t able to get a good reading.  I put my fingers on her tiny blood pressure cuff & I begin to pray.  After less than a minute, her blood pressure is perfect.  The next little bit happened so fast.  As quickly as everything went good, it went bad just as quickly.  Her levels started tanking.  We all step back as chest compressions & oxygen are administered.  I sat next to her praying & singing “He’s Got the Whole World in his Hands”.  The doctors and nurses have exhausted every measure by this point.  The doctor looks at me with love and sadness in her eyes and says, “I think its time for you to hold her.”  I knew what that meant.  It meant it was time for my daughter to pass away peacefully in my arms.  We asked if we could call our preacher so we could have her baptized first.  She agreed.  The doctors and nurses then took turns doing chest compressions and oxygen on Everly as Hal and I took turns holding her.  Once our preacher arrived, he baptized our sweet baby, Everly.  At 4:51 am, Everly Jade Rogers went to be with Jesus while being held in her parent’s arms.  While nobody prepares you for the birth of a child, they certainly can’t prepare you for the loss of a child.

The rest of the month was a fog.  I had been pumping milk for Everly every 3 hours while she was alive.  She’s deceased so now what?  My body didn’t know she was gone, so I kept producing milk.   The milk that was going to be her lifeline is now a painful reminder that she is no longer on earth. Before her funeral, we decided I would keep pumping to avoid mastitis and that I would donate all of my milk to a baby I had found out had RSV.  What was supposed to be a few weeks of pumping, turned into months.  In 16 weeks, I roughly pumped 20 gallons of milk.  Even though my pumping journey is done, Everly’s milk is still being consumed by the sweet baby we donated to.  Even though today marks 4 months since her birth and the 4 month mark of her death is fast approaching I can tell you, she impacted far more people in 6 days that I have in all of my years.  People from all over the world have been lucky enough to learn of a loving God that is providing peace and comfort to Everly’s grieving family.  With Mother’s Day around the corner, I know I am a mother.  I may not look like a mother to a stranger, but the mark she left on my abdomen and my heart will stay with me forever.  I told my dad that since becoming a mom I will never be the same.  He replied, “You are forever changed, forEverly changed”