The first 24 hours after Ava’s death are a random collection of foggy memories for me. Between the lack of sleep from the previous night, the narcotics, the grief, and the loss of blood I was no longer able to process anything that was happening.

I was probably wheeled out of the operating room and into recovery around 8:30 AM. We were put into a curtained cubicle in the recovery area where I would be monitored until I was stable enough to go back to my room. My dad had arrived and we had given the neonatologist permission to give him the news before bringing him back to see us. Ava was still wrapped in her blanket and resting in my arms. My dad gave us hugs and we cried quietly together for a short time. Then my dad gave Travis a kippah (Jewish head covering) and they both placed them on their heads. He said the Hebrew words traditionally said at the time of death, “Adonai natan, v’Adonai lakach. Baruch dayan haemet.” Which translates to, “God gave and God took. Blessed is the true judge.”

For the next few minutes, we sat together quietly. I wasn’t thinking about what was going to happen next or what we were going to do. I wasn’t even really thinking about the fact that Ava had just died. For a few minutes, it was almost like she hadn’t died at all. Travis and my dad took turns holding her. We took pictures or her alone and of us holding her, which was actually kind of weird and we laughed a little at the strangeness of it all. How does one pose for a picture with their baby who has died? Do you look at the camera? Do you smile? It was all very strange, but for a few minutes, the world didn’t exist outside of the curtains. We were just a family spending time with our new baby until the moment came crashing down as someone pulled back the curtain and the rest of the world came tumbling in.

The first person to arrive was the hospital clergy. He offered his condolences and asked if we had any local clergy we would like called to the hospital. We didn’t. We didn’t live in Denver and we hadn’t established ourselves in the Jewish community near our home in the mountains anyway. There was no one we had in mind. We agreed that he would have the Rabbi that comes to the hospital as part of their clergy staff come to visit us the next day. He again gave us his condolences before leaving.

A minute or two later I heard someone else coming down the hallway sounding incredibly chipper for a Monday morning. I don’t know if I really saw him or heard him, but in my head I see this guy whistling happily and clapping his hands as he almost skips his way into our cubicle. He opened the curtain and said with an enthusiastic smile, “so! Is there a baby here for me to check out?!” Our eyes were wide as saucers, almost popping out of our heads as we looked at one another. We didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know the protocol, maybe this was the guy who was coming to declare Ava dead? The young doctor sensed that something was amiss and started looking around. Travis looked at him and said awkwardly, “uhhhh, not a live one,” as he motioned towards Ava. The look of horror on the doctor’s face still has us laughing. It was so bad it was actually funny. He mumbled something along the lines of “I’m so sorry, you’re not the Millers. I’m looking for the Millers” as he ducked out of the room practically running to get away. We figured out that the Millers were probably on the schedule for a c-section that morning and I had bumped them out of their spot. I don’t know if we were just emotionally wiped out, or we have a sick sense of humor, or maybe it was actually that funny but we just started laughing and we are still laughing. We pictured him going back to the nurses’ station and sarcastically saying something like, “thanks for the heads up on that one!” We laughed about how we had completely ruined his Monday and a few days later when the hospital psychologist came to see us we were still laughing as Travis suggested she go find that doctor and make sure he was ok. Like I said, maybe we are just sick individuals but maybe it was just that we desperately needed to laugh and that poor doctor provided the comic relief.

Once my vitals were deemed stable my bed was wheeled back down the hallway, through the OB ward, Ava still in my arms. I didn’t look up at anyone we may have passed in the hallway. I just held Ava close to me, almost hiding her inside my blankets so I didn’t scare anyone. I was still on the OB floor and there were still pregnant women around. We rolled back into our large room tucked away in the corner. Everything was just as we had left it. The whiteboard still had Ava’s gestational age along with our goals for the day, number one still read, stay pregnant. Nothing had changed but everything was different. The room felt empty. There was no more fear of the future, no more hope for a miracle, no tortured thoughts of “what-ifs.” There was only silence, and a quiet, still baby in my bed.

We weren’t really sure what to do next. My memory begins to get even more clouded at this point. I felt like I faded in and out of consciousness and couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’m pretty sure Travis and my dad started making some phone calls to our family to let them know what had happened. I asked Leah what would happen with Ava. I didn’t know what the rules were, but I imagined that at some point they would take her away from us. She told me it was up to us. Ava could stay in our room as long as we wanted her there. I asked her what was “normal.” She didn’t really give me an answer other than it was up to us. She told us to take our time with her.

I appeared to be stable and things were settling down in my room so we sent my dad home to rest, eat and clean up before returning with my mom and Logan. I sent Travis to go get something to eat too. He had been up all night with me and hadn’t had anything to eat either. He was worried about leaving me alone in the room but I assured him I was fine. Travis said he went down to the cafeteria still in his scrubs and just wandered around aimlessly looking for food. His brain was completely overloaded and he couldn’t process anything going on. He said a woman approached him and asked for help finding something and all he could do was bark at her that he didn’t work there. I don’t know how long Travis was gone. I think it was only about 15 minutes at the most. My eyes kept glazing over and every time I blinked it took longer and longer for my eyes to open again, but I snapped back to reality when I felt the warmth spreading between my legs.

I felt close to death after giving birth to Logan. Immediately after he was born, unbeknownst to me, I started hemorrhaging. I had an epidural and I was so focused on my new baby that I didn’t have the slightest clue that I poured out over 1300 mL of blood. I remember looking at Logan and feeling peaceful as I told myself, this is what dying feels like, but I never said anything out loud. Needless to say, Travis was a little worried about a repeat performance. When I got pregnant again he made me promise that I would say something if I was heading towards the light after delivery. This time, there was nothing distracting me and no one else around. This time, I felt the bleeding. At first it felt like a little drop. I expected that would happen. That was normal. Then the warmth started spreading through my thighs and I felt gushes of blood and clots coming out of me. I didn’t expect this would happen with a c-section. I told myself maybe I wasn’t bleeding as much as I thought. I wanted to look down but I couldn’t even move. I looked at the clock and told myself that if someone wasn’t here in a few minutes I would push the call button. I don’t know how much time passed before I started looking at the call button but my brain couldn’t even process how to use it.

Travis and my nurse, Leah entered the room at the exact same time, and I tried to sound casual as I announced that I thought maybe I was bleeding. Leah came over to the bed and seemed pretty alarmed when she pulled back my sheets. She immediately started fundal massage. Now ladies, for those of you that have had a baby before, this is the part after delivery, and a few times before you leave the hospital, where the nurses push on your uterus in order to get it to contract, which prevents bleeding. It is pretty uncomfortable after a vaginal delivery but after a c-section it was excruciating. She dug her fist hard into my belly and each time more blood came pouring out. I don’t know what happened next but suddenly the room was no longer quiet. I got the full bleeding protocol which was drugs and a whole lot of fundal massage. Everyone worked quickly and things were under control in minutes. A baby scale was brought into my room and the blood soaked pads were thrown on. Over 600 grams. It weighed more than Ava.

Travis got to see the magical techniques we learned in nursing school while he and Leah worked together to clean me up and change my sheets without getting me out of bed. The rest of the day is even more of a blur. I spent most of the day unconscious on my back. I imagine I was given a lot of I.V narcotics because other than the frequent and painful fundal massage I don’t remember feeling much pain. We allowed Leah to take Ava out of the room to take pictures before my parents arrived with Logan. When she returned, Ava was dressed in a tiny little nightgown and a crocheted hat and matching blanket. She looked like a little old lady all ready for bed. Leah also brought a CD of pictures she had taken of her and a scrapbook page she made with her name, birthdate, pictures, and hand and footprints. It was an incredible gift that we will treasure forever.

I was so happy to see my parents and Logan when they arrived that afternoon. They brightened my room and suddenly things weren’t so bleak. We gave Logan a million hugs and kisses and he snuggled with me in my bed. We introduced him to his baby sister and took pictures and videos as he waved hello to her. He held her on his lap and said, “hi baby,” before going back to the video he was watching on an iPhone. Travis told him baby sister was sick and died. Logan gave a concerned look but of course at 18-months old he had no idea what that meant. He looked at her a few more times and even gave her a beep on the nose while she laid motionless in his lap. I smiled watching Logan with his baby sister and it pains me to think about the life they will never have together. We lost our baby that day, but Logan also lost his sister. He would have been an awesome big brother. I don’t really know how much an 18-month old could understand what was going on or what had happened, but he understood something. Logan has never mentioned or kissed the “baby in mommy’s tummy,” again.

Again, I don’t remember a whole lot more about the day. I remember being incredibly hot. Everyone was wearing sweaters and blankets in my room but I was drenched in sweat. I also remember wanting to eat but my body wasn’t ready. I tried a few bites of Jello but the horrific pain that came with vomiting moments later discouraged me from trying to eat again until the next day. I felt so sick that I couldn’t even process what had happened. I just wanted the room to get cooler and to stop spinning.

My mom stayed with me while Travis and my dad took Logan to a restaurant for dinner. I don’t know if we said much, or if anything I said even made sense when it came out of my mouth but it was the most meaningful time I have ever had with my mom. I was laying in my bed and she was sitting in a chair near my feet, holding Ava. She wasn’t holding her like you would hold a normal new baby, cradled in your arms. My mom had her little head cupped in her hands, while Ava’s lifeless body rested on my mom’s arms and lap. She was looking at her with such tenderness. I laid silently in bed watching her. She was looking at Ava so intently, studying every inch of her face, holding her tiny hands, as if she was memorizing her features. She didn’t have to hold her. Ava was dead. She could have put her down or set her aside after a few minutes but she didn’t. Every time I drifted off I opened my eyes to see my mother in the exact same position with the exact same look of unconditional love that she had on her face when she held Logan for the first time. I had been worried about letting anyone else see or hold Ava after she died. I thought it would feel wrong, too unnatural, but there was something so beautiful and comforting about seeing my daughter in my mother’s arms. In those moments it didn’t feel like Ava was gone, instead, it felt like I was watching a grandmother meeting her granddaughter for the first time and falling in love. It felt like the most natural moment in the world.

I drifted off to sleep easily that night, too exhausted to do anything else. I closed my eyes laying in the same bed in the same room in the same hospital where I had been the night before but everything had changed. My pregnancy was over. There was no more hope. My baby had died and part of me died with her. That night I would sleep but as the sun rose on another day, I would slowly come to realize that a mother’s worst nightmare had now become my reality.