Beauty In The Breakdown

There are no words that can truly convey the devastation we feel when we lose someone we love. I found that out firsthand when my daughter, Madeline, died unexpectedly in January of 2007. It shook me to my core and left me empty and destroyed.

After the initial shock and numbness wore off I was flooded with intense emotions and I desperately needed a release. I began playing the African drums. It felt amazing to channel my anger and frustration by beating the drums with my hands, but I had more than just aggression that I needed to release. I began painting and sculpting and writing. Once I began creating I couldn’t stop. I made enough pieces to fill an entire gallery and I created an art exhibit entitled Beauty In The Breakdown. I opened the exhibit up to the community, inviting anyone who had suffered a loss and found an outlet in art to join me in this inspiring and thought-provoking exhibit. More than twenty people contributed artwork, we filled two rooms and overflowed into the hallway. The response from the public was overwhelming. The exhibit ran for an entire month longer than planned and has since traveled to several other locations.

After 40 weeks of excited anticipation my due date was finally here. But Madeline didn’t seem to realize that this was the day the doctors had predicted her arrival, and was quite content to stay snug in my belly for a little longer.. On Tuesday I went to see my doctor. He examined us, Madeline and I, and said it was up to me. We could induce if we wanted, we could wait if we wanted. We decided to stick it out for a few more days. I trusted my body, it would let me know when the time was right. Madeline would come when she was ready. On Wednesday I lost my mucous plug. Any time now labor could begin! But I was still pregnant when I went to bed that night. “This is all completely normal,” my doctor told me. They were not at all concerned, and neither was I.

My pregnancy was uneventful and complication-free, and I loved every second of it. Sure there was morning sickness that lasted all day, fire-like heartburn, and constant runs to the bathroom- but the discomfort all seemed to melt away whenever I felt my little girl move inside of me. And she was an active little monster! Madeline had regular dance parties every night. She would begin to kick around 11:00pm and would go nonstop until she tired herself out, usually around 11:30pm or so. It was my favorite part of the day. Eating peach ice cream was another surefire way to get her going. I don’t know if she loved it or hated it, but it really made her move. Madeline also had very predictable hiccups every morning right around 8:00am. Her hiccups were so predictable that towards the end of my pregnancy I stopped setting an alarm clock, relying completely on Madeline to hiccup me awake every morning.

On Wednesday night, after her dance party, my husband read Maddie her bedtime story, just like he had every night since we first found out I was pregnant. After the story we got ready for bed. He gave me a hug and Madeline kicked me so hard that he felt it through my belly into his, and we joked that she was jealous of me hugging her Daddy. It was the last time he’d feel his daughter kick. During the night I woke up to unusual movement. It felt like Madeline was twitching. I woke Richy up. We considered going to the hospital. We went back to sleep instead. We weren’t being careless, we just thought we were being paranoid and assumed everything was ok.

On Thursday I didn’t wake up until after 10:00am. No hiccups. That should have been my first sign that something was wrong. By early afternoon I was getting very concerned that I hadn’t felt Madeline move at all, so I called the doctor. We decided that I would come in to get things checked out to ease my mind. I wasn’t too worried. I called my husband, but told him he didn’t have to leave work. I’d call him back after I saw the doctor. I drove myself to the hospital. At the hospital they used the doppler. Then the ultrasound. They said that ultrasound machine was acting up and they needed me to go across the hall to have another. They were lying, but I didn’t know that. I was still so unaware of what lay ahead that when they brought me into the next room, I smiled. It was the very same room where we had found out we were having a girl. I loved that room. The nurse came to my side and took my hand. She looked really worried, and it wasn’t until that second that I felt like this might be bad. I asked her if everything was ok. She said, well we just want to make sure. Thinking back on it, I know she must have already known. The doctor did an ultrasound, and turned to me. “I’m sorry Mrs. Cole, the baby has died.”

My life ended with those words. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. Still lying on the ultrasound table with goo on my belly, I reached for the cell phone and called my husband. Once Richy arrived, they induced labor. Finally, at 2:11pm, on Friday, January 5th, 2007 I gave birth to my daughter. She was 7 pounds 11.1 ounces and 21 inches long. She had lots of dark brown hair. The nurse told me she had brown eyes like mine… I never saw them.

We held Madeline for a long time. We cried. We sang to her. We told her we loved her. We told her we were sorry. Then we said goodbye. I kissed her one last time. My body shook as the nurse gently took my daughter from my arms and left the room with her. And that was it. Then she was gone.