I woke up to an email this morning. Reminding me that we were 3 days away from the blood drive. Seeing the number somehow changed it. I have been working on and planning this blood drive for so long, 5 weeks. That until today, its not really sunk in.
On June 23 I would have been picking my mom up from the airport. So she could help me get the house in order before we brought a baby home. I would have been packing my hospital bag and putting that special outfit inside. I would have been making everything perfect, the last stages of nesting. I would have been going out for dinner with Brandon, talking about all the fears of the upcoming week. Adding a 3rd child to our family. Talking about the excitement of a girl. I remember all of these feelings from the days before Sawyer & Max. I was so ready to do them again.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
I am supposed to be days away from a baby. My brain can't reverse that thought. The last weekend as a family of four, has turned into grieving as a family of 4 only. I can see my empty stomach in the mirror but my mind keeps thinking maybe it's all a mistake. That feeling of wondering what other parallel universes are out there, I am trapped in one. I want desperately to get back to reality. My reality where none of this happened.
On my calendar in big black PERMANENT marker, "Baby Arrives 3pm!!"
Instead, we will begin a blood drive and Brandon will be the first donor at exactly 3pm. I didn't think or plan it that way, and only noticed it this week. Poetic. And wrong. All of it is wrong. I did everything right. And it still turned out wrong. So vastly, unfairly, cosmically hugely WRONG.
I would have been feeling so much emotion, joy, fear, anticipation, worry, love. I would have been expecting so much.
I would have still been expecting.
Now Im not. In every way.
with love, lissa
GIVE LOVE FOR ANNA
We were still sitting in shock in the hospital. It was the first 24 hours. Nothing made sense, it still doesn't. We were asked to make the choices that no parent wants to make. Cremation or burial. Which funeral home. When would you like to see her, and when can we take her away. For the last time. There is literally not words to describe that experience. It is otherworldly. Like you are out of your body watching your worst nightmare unfold. And that doesn't even come close to it.
She didn't even have a name when she was born. I was told I had time still. I had 4 weeks, lots of time to decide. Until I had minutes to decide what to write on a death certificate. Naming a baby is one of the best parts of finding out you are pregnant. And here we were only choosing her name, to lose it immediately.
As we sat in that roomI became more and more unsure of life. What it was suddenly didn't, and will never make sense. I am living the unimaginable. Someone asked us about a memorial service, and I knew I didn't want to do that. To bring people together in sadness, for this life that never got to live. No one but us got to hold and see her precious face. See how much she reminded us of her siblings. the memories are both razor sharp and already fading at the same time. It's not fair, I cling to the memories of my worst day.
I knew immediately that the only service I wanted to hold in her honor was a blood drive. They were still giving me transfusions at that time. My body trying to recover as much as my mind. I had lost a life that day, I had almost lost mine as well. In a time and age where we take childbirth for granted, a staggering amount of babies and mothers still die. I am half that statistic, I could have easily been both. A 120 second difference would have made me both. I would have died without blood donations already at the hospital waiting. I needed 8 transfusions, plasma, and platelets. I couldn't stop bleeding and entered DIC, a rare and often fatal blood clotting condition, as I arrived at L&D. Had I had to wait for an elevator, I could have died inside it. I had so many needles and transfusions in me within a min of falling to the ground. What happened to save my life is nothing short of miracles, and AMAZING nurses & doctors. Blood donors are a part of that.
Just a week before this happened I posted about blood donation and thanking the miracles of medicine in discovering the RH- shot in someone's unique blood. I wrote the words "You never know when someone you love, will need it." That someone was me.
Much like the outpouring of love we have felt after this loss, overwhelmingly, people have already joined our cause. We picked a hashtag to use on social media so we could see the stories and the reach of Anna's support & love. I posted about it on June 1 and people began donating the next day. The more it was talked about, the more it spread. I didn't think we would have enough pledges to fill the blood drive bus, but instead we have had to turn people away. A friend pleaded our case on a base in Germany, and 33 people joined her at the Armed Services Blood Bank. I get almost daily pictures of donations, stretching around the world. So far 4 countries, countless states and provinces. The world is small in comparison to love. Each donation with a story about how much Anna has touched their life, each one a way that Anna brings more love into the world.
As of today, plus the pledges for the bus, we have 88 donors. Each donation saves 3 lives. That adds up to 264 people that won't have to live the pain we are in. That don't get told the worst words anyone will ever hear, "Im sorry, we couldn't save them." I cannot donate myself for the next 12 months, having had a transfusion makes you ineligible, your body still needs to recover for that long. So I could not do this without YOU.
264 lives, and counting. Tuesday will be my personal hell. Living out the day I should have been handed my baby, instead we are having her memorial. Her Birthday celebrates her Death day. But we planned this blood drive on purpose. Bringing healing to our hearts, and healing literally to the world. I know so many people are committing to walking us through that day. In donation, in support, in love.
Thank you for making it more than I thought possible. Thank you for continuing to support us in this journey in every way. Reading these words, providing us meals, dropping by for visits, sending thoughtful gifts, reaching out to say you care, and by making a blood donation in Anna's name.
There will never be full healing. But this is a good place to start.
With love, lissa