Goodbye hospital

"177 days behind me, an entire lifetime in front of me."

Today we're taking Arabella home, and we're finally saying goodbye to our past.

We were told she was beautiful from her very first ultrasound. The technician (who I'll never forget because she spoke broken english) saw Arabella's silhouette on the screen and immediately said the words, "Beautiful baby. Beautiful baby!"

"Beautiful baby?" we wondered. "How on earth would she know?"

That day stuck with us throughout the rest of the pregnancy. Kiera and I referenced it constantly. "Beautiful baby!" we'd say to each other (in an exaggerated fake accent). It would make us laugh every time. 

This one silly event actually inspired us to choose her name, Arabella.

We didn't think twice about the name until we were advised to pick one by the grief councillor at the high-risk clinic. "Give her a name", the councillor said. "It will help you cope with the loss, and allow you to honour her once she passes." 

Everyone at the clinic was certain that we were going to lose her. Arabella was severely underweight. 

So we did what the councilor told us. We named her in the womb during our darkest time. Kiera and I wanted to remember her beauty, the laughs that we had from that very first ultrasound, and all the love that she brought to our family. 

That's how we wanted to honour her. She would always be our first child, and she would always be our beautiful baby. 

The only thing that Kiera and I knew 177 days ago was that Arabella weighed an estimated 470 grams. She was literally on the edge of viability. 

The doctors discouraged Kiera from having a c-section altogether. They also warned us over and over again about the risks of severe prematurity. Based on the charts and predictions, they gave Arabella a 5% chance of living a normal and healthy life. 

Five percent. That's if she made it through the delivery first. We were absolutely scared beyond belief. 

By then the Doppler was showing a reversed umbilical flow. Time was ticking away. It was just a matter of time before Arabella would pass away.

"Tell me this isn't happening", we thought. 

Every weekly ultrasound was another dagger into our hearts. We would watch Arabella move and wiggle on the screen above us, and each time we wondered if it would be the very last time we'd see her. 

The technicians were always aware of our story, and they just proceeded to hand us the tissue box. They knew we were nearing the end. Once the Doppler shows a reversed flow, there isn't very much time left.

We talked to a grief councilor at the clinic. We discussed everything from coping, to the funeral, and the eventual arrangements. We spoke in detail about Arabella's final days, and how Kiera would likely give birth to a still born.

I'm happy to say that we're putting all of that behind us today. We're finally saying goodbye to the hospital, and we're finally saying goodbye to our past. 

This is our daughter Arabella, and she just happens to be our hero. "I'm fierce, I'm mighty, and I defied the odds", says Bella.

With the support of our dear family, Kiera and I realized that we had to take a leap of faith. We had to give Arabella a chance at life, no matter the cost.

This will be the final post from within these hospital walls. The next post you read will be from home 😊