DISCLAIMER: This is a healing post by a guest contributor to encourage those who may have lost a child. Please be advised this post contains sensitive pictures and details the emotional experience of loss. -Mocha Morris
“This baby has been dead for at least three hours.”
Who would’ve thought from the day my child was pronounced dead to today, his second birthday, that I would’ve taken control of my depression. I’m Lola Staxx and here’s my experience.
August 12, 2015, I woke up in a pool of blood. I was panicked. I ran and woke up my parents and my husband, Mark, so that they could take me to the hospital. I told my baby, Kasen, “everything is going to be OK. Mommy will make sure you’re safe.” I had a total of 6 miscarriages before Kasen, so everyone was on edge making sure the doctors were paying attention to me. I was so scared yet, so excited to finally meet my baby boy.
I began to bleed heavier. I asked Mark to tell the nurse I think something is wrong. The nurse walked in, shoved a towel between my legs and stated, “That’s normal.” I took her word. It was my first child so I didn’t know what was “normal” and what wasn’t. Twenty minutes passed and another nurse came in to check my vitals and immediately calls for back up. A team of nurses came in and started vigorously looking for a heartbeat. I knew something was not right when the nurses began to flip me in different positions looking for a heartbeat.
At that very moment, I knew I lost him. The charge nurse broke my water and began scratching Kasen’s scalp hoping for him to move. No success. The charge nurse called the on-call doctor. The doctor arrived and began to inspect me. Then, he turned to the charge nurse and stated “This baby has been dead for at least three hours!” They were monitoring my heartbeat opposed to his. Everyone around me began to lose it. My father started to cry and it hurts me to see him cry. The last time I remember my dad shedding a tear was the day my brother passed on my birthday a few years prior. To see him and my mother that distraught broke my heart.
There was an Officer who was so sweet to my husband and me. He brought us food and gave us a card expressing his condolences. A few nurses cried as well. I had to be strong for everyone so I remained calm and quiet. Crying in that moment was not an option for me. My husband looked out the window crying and my parents decided to leave because they didn’t want to stress me any further with their tears. Once my sister Mocha Morris arrived, I couldn’t be stronger any longer. She embraced me and I began to cry for hours.
I lost so much blood that a c-section, epidural, and any other medicine were out of the question. My chance of survival was 10%. After giving birth to him I was still in love. He was so handsome to me. We bathed him and dressed him. My day shift nurse was so amazing. She persuaded me to take photos of him. The hardest part was saying goodbye. I chose the funeral home Willie Watkins to get my son. They recently buried my cousin whom I considered an uncle while I was in the hospital, so I was comfortable with them. Yet, the pain continued. The funeral home came to the hospital three days in a row attempting to pick up my son only to find out the hospital misplaced him. It was one of my worst experiences to date.
I fell completely off the face of the earth. I disabled all my social media. I stopped answering phone calls. I stopped going around family, especially my mother’s side of the family. There were so many new and healthy babies and mines was the only one dead. I didn’t want to torture myself by pretending to be happy for them when in fact I was envious. I became dark, mean, and rude. It was a point to where I became suicidal. I sent a mass text message telling everyone that I loved them and I wanted to be with my son. My mom and sister called distraught on three way begging me not to do it because there would be brighter days. I was so tired of those generic statements. Everyone seemed to be putting a time limit on my grieving and I felt alone. I felt that I couldn’t talk to anyone because I felt as if no one genuinely cared, or at least cared anymore.
I’ve had many dark days. It’s hard for me to talk about my feelings ,so I went through a lot of my pain alone. I had a friend to tell me that I could vent to her and I did so in raw form. But, it was too much for her to handle. She stopped talking to me for weeks. I knew then that I have to go through this alone. I had so many talks from family saying how I’ve changed and they wanted the old me back. I didn’t know who that was anymore. So, I began to quietly work on who I’ve become. I began working on my business and my mental wellness.
It’s OK to have a set back as long as you fight to get back up. My advice is don’t seek empathy or sympathy because you will most likely be disappointed. That is the emotion that I felt when a person who had not lost a child would say “It will be OK.” Granted, I’ve fought through my suicidal moments and I’m blessed to be here, but I avoid the conversation because they cannot relate to my struggle. Plus, I would rather them not speak on it. I fought through the darkness without seeking professional help. Let me say this, everyone is different and there is nothing wrong with going to a professional. For me, I knew how bad off I was and I did not want to be on medication with a possible side effect making it worse. I started to acknowledge the source of my anger and hurt and told myself daily that I had plenty of reasons to be proud of myself. I became spiritual and began working on my business and my goals.
Do you believe in being addicted to hurt? Sometimes when everything around us seems to crumble and an opportunity presents itself to make us happy, we tend to push that away because we’re caught up in basking in our misery. That was me for a short while. I started to slowly go to small events that I could handle. I joined groups, started a business, and I began to write. You have to let go in order to prosper. Holding on to the loss aides your sadness. Your baby is your guardian angel. Once you’ve accepted that, your healing will begin.
Keeping the Memory Alive
I will never forget my baby. He has been my screen saver for two years. Every year on his birthday, August 13th, I send him balloons. Kasen knows that I did all I could to save him including visiting the hospital 3 times within 7 days of that final time because I felt something wasn’t right. In reality, he saved me. Whenever I’m down and I feel as if I can’t go anymore, I listen to the strong heartbeat he once had inside of a bear gifted to me as a baby shower present. It is his heartbeat that pushes me to be strong.
If you recently lost a child and you need an outlet, I am here for you. I’m not perfect, but I am solid.
Lola Staxx is a Brand Curator, Snapchat personality, and Barber. She assists small businesses by implementing planned programs to create meaningful brands with defined purpose. If you would like to contact Lola Staxx, she can be reached by email email@example.com.