19 weeks and 5 days ago I conceived you. A tiny little baby, my 6th baby, growing inside of me. I found out about you in the emergency room, when I was unable to breathe because of unknown chest pain. Lord knew how excited I was; God was giving me another chance to have the one thing I’ve wanted more than the breath of life itself, he sent me here to know. A small version of me, one that I can love and hold forever. I wore this news proudly on my sleeve. I called your Daddy and told him the great news, as well as your aunts and your grandparents. Everyone was so so excited for you to join us. I made a pact on that day that as long as you were inside of me, as long as you were a part of my body, I would never smoke another cigarette. I kept that promise too. Weeks went by and boy, did you make me sick. I puked and puked, but I wasn’t sad about it. I went to the doctors and made sure you were okay, got us some IV fluids once or twice a week to make sure you were getting what you needed. I made sure to eat, even though I knew I would throw it up. I ate salads, spaghetti, sandwiches, funyuns, anything I could in between the sickness. I did everything I could for you. Finally the sickness passed at around 13 weeks, but I kind of missed it. The constant reminder of your presence was comforting. Of course, you were showing already through my tiny body and I was proud of that: everyone knew you were there. My sweet little baby, growing more and more every day. At around 15 weeks you started bugging me for Subway, it was your favorite. A black forest ham with spinach, american cheese, and black pepper. I ate them every day for a while, anything you asked me for I gave to you, just to keep you happy and make sure you got what you needed. Your Daddy and I talked, and we decided that in order to protect you, I couldn’t continue to do any electrical work anymore. Granted, I stopped lifting, climbing, and doing hot work when I found out about you, but we wanted to take an extra precaution and no longer be in the electrical field, at least not while you were inside of me. I left the job site and went home, working at the lot cleaning just to keep you safe. I spent countless days there daydreaming about you. What you would look like. What your favorite food would be. How tall you would grow. If you were a boy or a girl. Daddy and I promised we would wait until you were born to find out your gender, even though I really really wanted to know.  But we agreed and we stuck to it. When I was 17 weeks pregnant you started to kick. I remember the first time I felt it. I was in your Auntie Reagann’s living room, laying on the couch when you shoved that little foot right into my ribs and I was so caught off guard I nearly fell off the couch, and found myself hysterical with laughter. I’m sure you were waiting for that moment, to scare me a little with your sweet little surprise. I laughed for hours and played back, trying to get you to do it again but you’re stubborn like me, you waited a while before you showed me that it was you and not just my imagination playing tricks on me. Over time you began to kick more and more. That was my favorite part-playing games with you. Any time I would relax and be still you would jump around, my little jumping bean. When you would stop, I would poke back at you, making you jump around again. Any time I was sad or lonely with Daddy gone so much providing for us, I would poke my belly and you would poke back. It brightened my life, you know. Everythung was going so great. We bought you clothes, a stroller, a car seat, lots of blankets and bibs. We were really trying to stay ahead of the game and have everything you would ever want or need ready to go long before you came home. At 19 weeks and 3 days, Momma started getting scared. I started to bleed, only a little, but a little was still too much for my comfort. So I went to the emergency room with Daddy, just to make sure you were okay, and you were. The doctors didn’t think anything was wrong, they said we were normal. But the next day Momma got worse. I had cramps so bad I could hardly breathe, and I was bleeding much more than before. We went back to the emergency room with Auntie Aubry, I wanted to let Daddy get some rest because he had been so worried about us. I waited for 4 hours before the triage nurse finally saw us, she sent for an ultra sound and told me to wait in the waiting room until they were available to do it. I did so, fighting the incredible cramps I’d developed, losing my breath with each one. I knew something was wrong but I hoped we would be okay. The very nice nurse took us back in a wheelchair, up the elevator and into a room. I’d done this before so I already knew the drill and started to get undressed and covered up with that thin paper towel. She was doing our ultrasound and we shared in laughter about how active you were, jumping around so much she could barely get her photos! When she was taking a picture of your leg I knew I saw what gender you were. I was naughty, I looked even though Daddy and I agreed we would let it be a secret. I just couldn’t help myself, I had to know, even though deep down I already knew... The nurse decided to do a transvaginal ultrasound, because you were too active for her to see my cervix long enough for a picture. She really liked you, you know. When she did the ultrasound, I knew something was wrong. Not with you, but with me. She froze up and asked me how long I’d been experiencing the pain and bleeding. I told her since the day before and it seemed like her panic rose but she refused to tell me what was wrong. She wheeled us back downstairs to the waiting room and promised me she would have a room for us very very soon. I was instructed not to move, not even to pee. I waited for another hour and got up to pee, I just couldn’t take it anymore with you bouncing around on my bladder and the cramping wasn’t helping. Just as I got back they called us in and took us back into a room. The doctor came in, a very nice young man I had seen here before. He was very kind and we chatted for a few moments before we got onto topic. He explained to me that my cervix had dilated 1.6cm and the seriousness of the situation. When I asked him what do we do he told me he wanted to do a cervical stitch. I agreed, and he said he would call our doctor to have him come down since he was the on call that night. I sent Auntie Aubry to go get your Daddy. When our doctor came back, he told me he couldn’t do the cervical stitch because our doctor wanted us to try progesterone and go see him on Monday, in 2 days. I asked the doctor why he didn’t want to do anything and why he was sending us home, but he said we would be safe as long as we stay in bed. I went home defeated, knowing something was wrong but feeling hopeless and helpless. I tried to sleep, but Daddy and I were too scared, and my pain was getting worse, I needed to go back to the hospital. Daddy still hadn’t slept so I told him to take us to Nana’s, so he could sleep and Nana could take me to the hospital. I told him we would be okay. I could hardly walk when I would cramp. I’d fallen over a few times on the way to the truck to get to Nana’s, and was lucky I had Daddy there to help us. I was bleeding so much... Nana and Papa were at Cuttys for the weekend, so I called her to tell her what was going on. She drove straight home to us. I was hurting so much I was crying on the floor, barely able to see through the pain. Nana drove us to the hospital and forced them to take us to labor and delivery. I was 19 weeks and 5 days pregnant. The very nice doctor lady put a contraction belt over you. She told me that the whole time I was actually having contractions, not cramps and she was surprised I handled them so well. She called the on call doctor and had her come visit me. She was a very nice younger lady who partnered with our doctor. She did a pelvic exam and told me quite honestly that she did not have good news. I was 10cm dilated, and there was nothing they could do to stop me from delivering you. I froze in shock. I forgot all of the pain, all of the confusion, my whole world stopped moving. I hardly remember them asking me if I wanted epidural or any pain medication. I told them I would do regular pain medication, no epidural. They called in a nurse who tried to get an IV. But I couldn’t let go of you. I wouldn’t let this happen. I love you, I was willing to do anything to keep you from having to leave. I fought with every ounce of strength in my body, fighting the pain while my vision faded away. The nurse was having no luck with the IV and called in two more to help, my contractions were only one minute apart. Nana held my hand and told me I would be okay, but I would not be okay without you. I was not letting you go. I fought through each rolling wave, every contraction became worse but I fought harder. I knew I was running out of strength. It started in my toes– a tingly sensation, like when your leg falls asleep and starts to wake back up– spreading to my ankles and my thighs and I screamed from the pain it brought. I turned to your Nana and admitted it. I can’t do this. I can’t lose my baby. “Yes you can, I’m right here with you.” I knew the truth, I couldn’t. I would fight until my last breath to give you a chance at life. The tingling had reached my arms when the nurses were gathered around me, still trying for that IV, but no one could get it. The feeling had crawled it’s way up to my neck, biting and clawing, threatening to take my life, and I was ready to give it. Mine for yours. The nurses threw on an oxygen mask, forcing the tingling to subside. Our doctor came in and begged me to let go, she said it wouldn’t be much longer before there would be nothing left to stop you from coming, but I refused to give up. I continued to fight as my legs and arms shook so hard I thought they might fall off. I fought with every bit of my soul. As my strength dwindled to little to nothing I watched the nurses poking me one after the other trying so hard to give me a medication to relieve my pain. My vision started crawling to black and I felt myself letting go of everything; my legs, my hands, my feet, my breath, my soul. And there you came. I cried. I cried so hard. The doctor ran in and your Daddy walked in the door. You were still alive with your perfect little heartbeat, throwing your arms and legs around in the placenta. The doctor cut you out and put you in my arms, and all I could do was cry. You were so handsome, my little boy. So tiny but so amazing. Your Daddy didn’t know the severity of what was going on, and he started to cry too. You opened your mouth and tried to breathe, but I knew you were getting no air and I wept even harder. Your Nana and Papa and your Daddy all said hi, they held your little hand while you struggled for breath. I cradled you and wished I could give you my life. I wished I could give you my lungs, so you could breathe. I wanted to sacrifice my life to give you yours. All I could do was hold you and cry, I never stopped crying. I watched your mouth open for what I knew would be the last time, and I broke. I whispered a quiet “I love you” as I watched my baby boy die in my arms. I cried for hours while I held your body, wishing for time to stop. Wishing for you to breathe again, to take my breath for yourself. I made a wish that I knew would never come true, but I wished it over and over as the flood of tears fell. As they took you away. As I signed your birth-and death-certificate. As I bled all over the floor of the bathroom. As I silently cried walking to the car. As I laid in bed that night, knowing I would never be the same. I still wished I could give you my life, so that you could live. I love you with all of my heart, and I would trade my life to give you life. For you to grow up. For you to have a chance to live. That’s a chance you never got Dakoda Michael Orr, and I am so so sorry. I would give up everything to give you that chance.  I love you with all of my heart baby boy and I will never stop missing you. I’m lost without you baby.
Love,
Mom.