The Story of my 2 Angels

The reason for setting up this blog is for me to put down my feelings cos I like to write, and I think I can express my feelings in words better than verbally. More importantly, it is to ensure that I do not forget my 2 angels, even the day when I become old and forgetful. I am so afraid that I will gradually forget each of their stories and how they looked like as time passes.

I have a medical condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) which would make it hard for me to conceive naturally without any medical intervention. I never knew I had this condition, even though I lived with some the symptoms for half my life.. i.e. irregular/ infrequent periods that are usually heavy, hight cholestrol and weight gain. There is a host of other symptoms in addition to what I have, like acne, excessive hair growth, oily skin, obesity, etc, and I am pretty fortunate that I don't have them.

I only found out that I have this condition only after I lost little Lucas, my little miracle baby.

Lucas - My Miracle Baby Boy
I say he is my miracle baby because somehow he was conceived naturally even though I have PCOS and should have been 'infertile' and unlikely to conceive without medical help.

On 07 Apr 2008, exactly one month after my 10th year anniversary with my husband, I went to see the doctor as I had a discomfort in my lower abdomen. The doctor did some routine checks and a scan showed that it was a cyst. It was fairly harmless and should go away, but at the same time, the doctor also noticed that I 'appeared' to be pregnant.

After a more thorough check, it was confirmed. This came a surprise because we have been trying for a while to have a baby. Preliminary tests indicated that I was about 4 weeks along, meaning that this baby was conceived on the day of our 10th year anniversary (yes, I know this for sure!!). What could be more special and meaningful, right? It is the perfect present for both of us.

With the help of some close friends, we planned a small surprise and broke the news to my hubby immediately after he arrived back in Singapore after a business trip. The word ‘shocked’ does not fully describe his reaction then and he kept asking me to swear that we were not pulling his leg. Hubby and I were ecstatic about the impending arrival of this new life, so were our family and friends. Along the way, I had some spotting and went back to the doctor’s several times for progesterone shots to 'boost' the pregnancy/ prevent miscarriage.

Meanwhile, all my scans showed that our baby was developing beautifully and the test results were very good. Other than feeling a little nauseated during the 5th to 8th week, I was beginning to enjoy the feeling of having a little life growing inside me… and also enjoying the undivided attention from my hubby despite it being Euro 2008!

I had some of the typical pregnancy symptoms, i.e. having sore (but HUGE) boobs, feeling bloated, waking up 2 to 3 times a night to go to the toilet, my face was starting to break out with acne, etc. What I loved most was that I noticed my clothes were gradually getting tight, it’s a sign that the little life is growing! I also loved it when hubby put his head on my growing belly to talk to our baby. Ever since hubby accompanied me to my first scan and saw a fuzzy scan of the baby, he was already convinced that it was going to be a boy. Deep down, I had a gut feeling that it was a boy too… we can call it Mother’s instinct! But whenever hubby referred to the baby as ‘he’ / ‘him’, I enjoyed teasing him by saying that I felt it was a girl and it’d spark off a lively round of ‘debate’.

Just as we were going to bed on the night of Father's Day 2008, I had a sudden gush of blood and we immediately went to the hospital. The doctor did some checks and said that it was probably due to the fact that my placenta was a bit low. Anyway, the important thing is that the baby’s fine and I saw from the scan that he was happily punching and kicking in the waterbag. I was given another progesterone shot and sent home with a week’s leave from work. At home that night, hubby even said that it was baby’s way of wishing him Happy Father’s Day.

To be on the safe side, we went to see my regular doctor first thing the next morning. During the routine check, she found out that somehow my waterbag had burst and some of the amniotic fluid had already leaked and there’s no chance of the baby surviving without the waterbag at this early stage of 14 weeks. We had to terminate the pregnancy soon as it may lead to an infection for me. We did a scan and although the waterbag appeared a lot smaller, baby's heart was still beating strongly and baby was moving around, although much lesser this time cos he’s got lesser space. At that time, both hubby and I were too shocked to cry or even react to what the doctor told us. It was too sudden… too unexpected.

I was immediately warded into the hospital so that the doctor can perform the abortion. Though we knew deep in our hearts that there was no chance for our baby, hubby and I decided to delay the abortion till the following day so that we can spend one last night with our precious darling. Breaking the news to our family and friends was the other difficult part.

That night was the longest night in my life. I cried till I don’t think I had anymore tears left and hubby cried alongside with me for the baby that we so badly wanted but could never hold. My heart broke into a million pieces and I don’t think it’ll ever mend. We kept telling baby how sorry we were and how much we loved him. I really did not want to keep referring to the baby as ‘it’ (we still didn't know the gender then), so hubby and I decided that if the baby’s a girl, we’d name her ‘Chloe’ and if it’s a boy, he’d be called ‘Lucas’.

The next morning the doctor came and gave me the pills that’d induce the miscarriage and take this precious life out of my body. The pills were to be taken 3 hourly until ‘it’ happens… the first was at 9.20am, then again at 12.20pm. By 12.50pm, I started having minor contractions and it very quickly became full-blown ones by 1.15pm. By 1.30pm, ‘it’ happened… Our baby’s gone.

We told the doctor that we wanted to know the baby’s gender because at 14 weeks, it’s already formed although we weren’t able to tell from the earlier scans. Hubby’s right.. our baby's a boy. The doctor asked if we wanted to see him and we agreed because I was afraid I’d regret forever if I didn’t even get to see my precious baby Lucas. He was tiny… at just 10 cm, he was slightly bigger than the size of my palm. However, he was already perfectly formed… we could see his teeny-weeny fingers and toes. What broke my heart further was how peaceful he looked. He was cuddled up and looked like he was sound asleep. The doctor checked him and said that our Lucas was perfectly fine and would continue to develop if it weren’t for the waterbag. Hearing this made me feel even worse cos I felt that as a mother, I failed my duty to protect my baby. MY failure had led to the demise of my baby…

That evening, I had to go through a short surgery (D&C) to ‘clean-up’ my womb. They will put me under a GA during the procedure and as I was waiting for my turn at the Operating Theatre, I thought about many things during that 30min. Honestly I wouldn’t mind if I did not wake up from the GA… at least I have my baby waiting for me on the other side and he wouldn’t be so alone.

It’s been more than a year since I lost my baby boy… and not a second goes by where I don’t think of him and of the times which we COULD have spent together... Sadly, I don't have any pics of him cos it happened so suddenly and we were so unprepared.

Family and friends have rallied around us during this period, this we’ll forever be grateful for. Many people have also told us that ‘it’s ok, you can try again’, it is said with no ill-intent of course, but honestly, it really is NOT ok… no one will ever be able to replace Lucas in my heart and when they took him away, they also took away a big piece of my heart.

During my stay in the hospital, my sweet hubby went to the nearby Tiffany shop and bought each of us a ‘dog tag’ cos of what it symbolizes and wearing it enables us to keep baby Lucas close to his mummy and daddy’s hearts always. I wore it daily and only took it off when I was warded in Jun 09. The words on the tag are:

Lucas Lee

07.03.08 – 17.06.08

*************************************************************************

Right after we lost Lucas, I was went to seek a second opinion from a 2nd doctor because my bleeding did not stop. He immediately diagnosed me with PCOS and referred me to a fertility doctor. Although my heart was still aching from the loss of my firstborn, I was eager to get pregnant again as soon as I can to try and make up for that feeling of loss and emptiness.

I started seeing the fertility doctor sometime in early Sep 08 and he confirmed that I have PCOS. He 'recommended' that I have at least a 3 month 'break' before we started trying again. We started the fertility treatments in Oct 08 and we started off with the 'basic' treatments first, i.e. oral medication and injections on my tummy to boost the size and quantity of egg production.

After 4 months of medication and injections (lovingly administered by hubby), I found out that I was pregnant on 10 Feb 2009. By then I was so in-tune with my body that I knew I was pregnant before even taking the home pregnancy test. Because of the fertility treatments, I knew for sure that I conceived on 27 Jan 2009.

Chloe - My little Princess

Ever since I was 16 years old, I fell in love with the name 'Chloe' cos it sounded so pretty and girlish, and I knew then that if I have a daughter, she'd be named Chloe.

When the pregnancy test showed up positive, I was happy beyond words. It's like the void has been filled, although nothing and no one can ever replace Lucas and he will always have a special permanent place in my heart. I was over the moon and finally felt that there was something worth living for after the miscarriage. This time round, the pregnancy was a breeze... I ate the right food, did the right stuff and tried to rest as much as I could to protect the new little life inside.

6 months passed rather uneventfully as we slowly and cautiously started sharing the good news with family and friends. I enjoyed putting on the extra weight, not fitting into my 'normal' clothes, and even secretly enjoyed the typical pregnancy symptoms... i.e. calf cramps in the middle of the night, frequent visits to the toilet, water retention in my fingers, stretch marks on my belly, etc.

At around 5.45am on 24 Jun while I was still asleep, I felt a gush of water that jolted me awake. I knew immediately what it was... my water bag broke AGAIN. I also knew immediately that it meant bad news because I was only 24 weeks along then. Hubby and I sobbed all the way to the hospital because deep inside we already knew what the outcome would be. The doctors were very frank and told us in no uncertain terms that the chances of our baby making through it at 24 weeks is very bleak. Even if she survived, she'd most likely have:

1) lung complications because at 24 weeks, her lungs have not yet developed fully

2) brain damage due to the lung problem.. i.e. insufficient oxygen

3) infections

4) physical and learning disabilities

and the list went on... I guess I just 'switched off' at some stage.... it was just too heartbreaking. I knew we did not have a choice then... hubby and I have discussed this issue previously even before we got pregnant. We know clearly that we'd want our baby to have quality of life and the last thing we'd want is to bring her into this world to suffer. I guess this is a controversial issue.. some people may think that it's too selfish on our part to rob her of the chance to live. However, as her mom, I felt that it'd too unfair for our princess if she was not able to have a quality life... she's my baby, she deserves better... no correction... she deserves only the best.

I had big hopes for her... all the dashed hopes that I had for her brother Lucas were now pinned on this baby. I wanted to bring her up exactly the same way I was brought up because I had the happiest childhood, went to good schools, had decent grades, had the opportunity to go to university abroad, have a close-knit family plus extended family (including my in-laws) who doted on me, a good job with a pay that I cannot complaint about, friends whom I know I can count on anytime, a wonderful relationship with my hubby whom I love dearly, a beautiful home, an anti-social grouchy 10 year old dog (Huskee) and a crazy, destructive 1 year old pup (Hershey). I wanted her to have all these and more... I wanted to give her nothing but the best.

The only hope then was that I do not get an infection and somehow will be able to keep her in me for as long a possible so that her tiny little lungs have the chance to grow properly. That's when we were hoping for a miracle. That night when I had difficulty falling asleep, I put my hands on my now slightly deflated tummy and told Chloe that if she's tired of fighting or if she is in pain and wanted to give up fighting, I'd totally understand. The next day her daddy also gave her the same message... much as we loved and wanted her, we don't want her to be suffering because of our own selfishness.

In the end, our sweet princess made the decision for us. I started running a fever, my white blood cell count have more than doubled and began to get minor contractions at 5am on 26 Jun 09. It's a sure sign that I have got an infection. I was pushed to the delivery suite at around 11am and she arrived at 1416hrs after 3-4 long pushes. Hubby was with me throughout those painful hours and held my hands through it all. This is the second time we are going through the whole labour process knowing fully well that we'd not be going out of the delivery suite with a brawling, healthy infant.

They cleaned her up and placed her on my chest, and we were allowed to spend some precious time with her privately. Although she did not cry like other babies, she was still alive, I could see her heart still pounding against her tiny chest... We counted her tiny fingers and toes, joked through our tears that she's got big feet like her daddy, noted that while she had most of hubby's features although her lips are definitely mine, her hair is just begining to grow...She is about the length from my the tip of my fingers to my elbow and she looked so fragile and innocent... She is my sleeping angel. We kissed her gently and although she did not open her eyes to look at us, I really hope she knew that those kisses were from her mommy and daddy, who love her beyond words.

The too short time that we spent with her is something that I'd be eternally grateful for because it somehow proved that the past 24 weeks were not a dream, I did have a baby and she is perfect, only that she was too eager to see the world.. impatient just like her brother.. I guess it's a trait they inherited from me cos patience is definitely not one of my virtues!

That night was so tough... I felt so empty, so helpless, so guilty, so lost, so betrayed, so robbed, so heartbroken.. As I was in the maternity ward, I kept hearing babies crying and the nurses pushing the babies to their moms for feeding every 2 hours. It broke my heart so much because while those lucky babies were warm and had their moms to feed and care for them, my little Chloe was lying alone and cold in the mortuary.

It's really been hard... sooooo hard... I don't even know the right words to describe how bad it's been. I have not yet learnt how to cope with the loss of my firstborn only a year ago, and now I have to go through the pain all over again with my second baby. I can still clearly remember the pain, emotions, anger, hurt that I went through only a year ago... now they seem all too familiar.

I am still searching for a reason why this happene to me TWICE... I am not religious, but somehow I think I must have done something really bad, or I must have been a really evil person to deserve this punishment.

I miss my two angels... and I miss them both so much and I love them even more... I'd do anything to be with them... They are an extension of the love that hubby and I share. I feel so guilty that I have failed so miserably yet again...

• I failed as a woman because I can't even properly carry a baby to term.
• I failed as a mom because I could not even protect my own babies.
• I failed as a wife because I cannot even give my husband a baby.
• I failed as a daughter/ daughter-in-law because I cannot give my parents/ in-laws a grandchild.
• I failed as a friend because I cannot give my best friend her god-child.

In the span of one year, I was brought to my knees twice. Before I can even learn how to stand up and walk properly again after the first time, I have been brought back to my knees yet again. This time, I am just simply too tired to even try and stand up.

30 Jun 09 is without doubt the most heart-wrenching time in my entire 32 years of life. It feels so so so wrong for a parent to have to go through this...for a parent to make arrangements for the cremation of his/ her baby... for a parent to see his/ her baby lying lifelessly in a coffin... However, this is something that I felt that hubby and I must go through... i.e. to send our princess on her final journey in her too short time on earth. That's the least we can do for her.

We went shopping for some last minute stuff that I wanted to include in her coffin.. we had previously bought some clothes for her, but I wanted her to have more... it's never enough anyway. It felt so surreal being in the baby department buying mittens, booties, milk bottles and pacifier for all the wrong reasons. I also ended up getting some pretty pink roses for her.

Definitely not the prettiest bouquet I've seen, but I wanted to do it myself instead of getting a professionally done one. I wrote a message on a little heart-shaped card which I tied to the bouquet..

The message says:
To our Darling Daughter CHLOE LEE

Between Now and Then
Till We See You Again
We'll Be Loving You

Love Always,
Daddy and Mummy
June 2009

The message contains the lyrics from Raye Collin's 'Love, Me' song which I modified a little. This song was playing on the radio and when I heard it, it just felt 'right'.

These are the clothes that Mark and I picked out for her which were cremated along wth her. Each of them with their own story behind.

This Baby Ralph Lauren dress was the very first piece of clothing that we got for her.. we bought it on 03 June, right after the scan showed that I was expecting a girl. For those who know Mark, aka Chloe's daddy, this dress is a mni version of his signature Polo T-shirts which are mostly in shades of yellows/ oranges. When he saw it, he just insisted on buying it for her.

I bought these from Mothercare. This is something that I just 'had to' buy because of the wordings on it. She will always be the 'Princess of the House'... This is actually the outfit which I'd initially planned to to let her wear when we bring her home from the hospital. Little did I expect that I'd go home empty handed - again.

This sweet cherry outfit is from my sis, aka Chloe's Aunty. I wanted to include them because I wanted Chloe to know that other than her daddy and mommy, she also has other people, especially an aunt who loves her a lot..

No way I can resist this outfit too... the bib says it all... She'll forever be my 'little princess'. That's how we have always been addressing her ('Princess') ever since we found out I was expecting a girl.

Another sweet Baby Ralph Lauren outfit that her daddy got for her... We were so looking forward to see her in this sweet pastel pink romper.

Chloe's first (and only) toy... a fluffy pink rattle doggie that says 'My First Puppy'.

The first and last bottle of milk that her daddy lovingly made for her.

All of my Princess' possessions...

Holding onto her bag of belongings on our way to the mortuary to see her for the last time... Can I fit myself in here so that I can be with her?

Somehow we managed to get through the day still sane and in one piece... The image of our tiny sleeping princess in her little white coffin is something that I will remember for life. Before they closed the coffin, I told Chloe to go and look for her big brother Lucas, who will look out for her and take good care of her. I also told her pass a message to Lucas, to let him know that we have not forgotten about him and are still loving and missing him dearly. Lastly, I told her that I was sorry I could not protect her and that I loved her more than she'd ever know.

Chloe's ashes were scattered into the sea. I have been told that this is the closure that I need, but to me, it's just the begining of the long and bumpy road ahead.

One day a child was born, too early, too small but loved as much as any child could be.
As the parents of this child entered this journey they found themselves feeling alone.
They had the joys of being new parents but the fear of losing their child, the thrill of giving birth, the grief of a lost dream.
This was supposed to be a joyous time, not a time filled with grief, anger and pain.