Submitted by Luke (Aila’s dad)
Opening a birthday card one week before the actual day is always a treat, but more so in 2022. My wife, Michaela used the opportunity to improve a bad day at work by giving me a card filled with a sticker family (which she knows I hate), featuring the two of us, our two cats and a baby; her special way of telling me this is our year. Excitement does not hold enough weight – we were over the moon, and quickly consumed by preparing for everything baby. We decided not to find out the gender and simply referred to our precious gift as Bagel because bagels are delicious.
Six months later, we entered June ready to take on the final three months. As the month got started, Michaela began to experience severe abdominal pain, nausea and other symptoms that warranted a visit to our local ER. While there, we were informed it was likely a gallbladder issue and were provided with some pain meds before going on our way.
One week later from the day after that initial visit, my wife was in more pain than ever, unable to be still, let alone get sleep. We once again visited the ER in the early morning hours, with the thought that the gallbladder was still the culprit. After traveling back and forth between ER and Labor and Delivery, while doctors argued over whether they should remove the gallbladder or not, we finally had an OB involved. The OB took surgery on a pregnant woman off the table and began to focus on the ultrasound which Michaela had done the day after her initial ER visit – we learned her focus was on Bagel measuring at 20 weeks, despite Michaela being 24 weeks pregnant. There were no additional details shared – or maybe there was? – but I was easily distracted by the OB who was beginning to coordinate a transfer to Calgary for more specialized care. Within the hour, my wife was on her way in the back of an ambulance for further assessment there.
Neither of us had slept, so I went home to get some sleep before travelling up myself. When I woke up, I felt hungover – it quickly passed when I saw the notification jam on my phone. Not only had my wife made it to Calgary, but she had news she did not want to share via virtual communication. I ate the worst Subway of my life, and hit the road, making the trip in record time. The entire drive, I knew what was coming – I prepped what I would tell the cop who could pull me over for speeding, forecasted managing my headspace for Calgary rush hour and for what would happen when I got to the hospital.
I will never forget the first thing my wife said when I arrived – “I don’t think we are leaving here with our baby”. I learned she had been diagnosed with HELLP Syndrome, a type of preeclampsia which put both my wife and Bagel in danger due to impact on the liver and placenta. My wife then presented me with data showing the likelihood of survival, comorbidities, and statistics based on the introduction of steroids for Bagel. The data told the entire story, and I felt helpless that my mind was made up for me before I even had the chance to think, talk, and even breathe. We were told we did not have the time, and labour would need to be induced as soon as possible to save Michaela.
While in the hospital, the gender remained a secret. Since receiving the birthday card, I knew it was a girl and nothing was going to change that – my wife, friends, and everyone else thought boy. We eventually asked a nurse to let us know what to expect. We were informed that we were having a baby girl; being right has never hurt so much.
We were settled in a new room, as much as you can use the word settled. Amazing staffing and accommodations cannot distract you enough from heartbreak. Michaela received her first induction at 0200 AM on June 10. Our first day was full of naps, anticipation, and helpless wonder – we eventually went to sleep for the day at 1030 PM, getting ready for the next induction sequence in a couple of hours. When that time came at 1230 AM on June 11, we discovered that our daughter, Aila Marley Palmer was born as a stillbirth, still in her amniotic sac as a veiled birth. She was beautiful and smiling – totally at peace. The doctor allowed me to cut Aila’s umbilical cord, a moment very special to me.
Over the next two hours, we were given time alone with Aila. I have always joked time does not exist, and at that moment, it did not. The time we had with her while a blur of emotion, will never be forgotten – the way she smelled, her smile, and her tiny body. We settled on Marley as a middle name in honour of Michaela’s family dog, who passed away the evening before we were transported to Calgary. We know Marley was waiting for Aila, ready for her next assignment.
My wife summarized the anguish best “It is hard to describe the existence of both the deepest pain and love sharing space together.”
After four days in the hospital, we were expected to return to normal life. “Normal life” from when? Our last 6-months of expecting, or the state full of hopes and dreams before Aila? We did not know, nor did we realize we were becoming new people – we were now parents, baby or not, it cannot be taken away from us. There was some strength in that sentiment, which I think allowed us to lean on one another further as we figured this out ourselves.
I should have left the hospital with my two girls, one a loving mother, and the other a bright-eyed girl with unbridled potential – I left with my wife, which I am forever grateful for as I could not imagine manoeuvring through the loss of both. I am forever changed and the void from not leaving with Aila feels impossible to fill.
We may be broken but are healing. For six months we walked around our community park imagining the day Aila would be with us in her stroller, eventually holding our hands as she gained confidence walking. Now, it feels like we are gaining our confidence walking, feeling Aila’s love hold our hands. We were robbed of those moments we dreamt of, but baby girl, we promise to keep dreaming.
– Dad