A Father's Day Wish

Though her time with us was short, Dylan was loved beyond words.  From the moment we found out we were having a girl, she immediately became mommy's and daddy's girl before we even left the ultrasound appointment.  She was loved from the moment we found out we were pregnant.

I want to give my husband a special father's day message.  For 38 weeks, you showed love for someone you hadn't even met yet.  The joy had from feeling her kick in my belly, to seeing her "wave" to us from the ultrasounds... to the worry when we found out there was something wrong.  You stayed strong for all of us.  When you held her for the first and only time, however sad, you gave her all your love.  We made the hardest decision any parent can make, and we did that with Dylan in our hearts.

It's a different father's day for us.  It's one of love for a child who is no longer with us.  She never had a chance to get to know how much love was waiting her for when she arrived, but as an angel, I want to believe she knows now.  She will always be daddy's and mommy's girl.

Back to life

June 1st marked the start of a new month and a new 'normal' life.  After four months off from work, I walked back into the chaos and pressures that I abruptly left not so long ago.  I do have to say, I'm glad I visited my friends at the office a couple of times in the last month, because those definitely made walking through the revolving doors a little easier. 

My visions of returning to work originally included a morning stop at the company day care center to drop off Dylan.  Instead, I carry her in my heart as I go from front door to elevator to office.  After a deep breath, I sit down at my desk and began my day.

I work with wonderful people.  My boss, my coworkers... all kind and caring souls.  I'm a lucky girl.  The first day back is filled with welcoming hugs and genuine smiles that warm my heart.  I have to transition back into my job, but I think it will be a painless process. 

I was able to get through the first day thanks to the support of my friends.  Day two, the same.  By day three, it seems like I had never left.

I can honestly say it's good to be back. 

I plan too much

I can't help it.  I just do.  If there's a trip coming up, I start researching places to eat, things to see and do.  We go out to dinner, I've already planned out what to wear (depending on the weather) and will have already checked out the menu online.  Upcoming birthdays, the gifts are sitting on the table ready to be wrapped.  Christmas?  I'm usually done shopping by October.

This is what I do.

While pregnant, is it a surprise that I thought of everything?  When the Harry Potter movie comes out in July, I will need a baby sitter.  If the fire alarm goes off in our building, I will need to take Dylan outside and possibly will need to calm her down.  When I shower and my hubby is not home, where can I put her so that I can still check on her or go to her within seconds if I need to?  I was ready.

All these things I over planned for... useless, because my daughter is gone.  Now, thanks to my own crazy brain thinking overtime, everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - makes me think of Dylan.  The Harry Potter commercials, the fire alarms, just plain showering.  I can't walk through the house without thinking about her.  Where her bassinet would have been.  Where she would have played.  The empty spot where we had stored her stroller.

Her things are now in storage... maybe one day she will have a little brother or sister who will use them.  For now, they are carefully wrapped and put away.


I'm trying to move on in my life without my baby, but it's so damn hard when it's not only the physical things that trigger reminders, but just every day life that I mentally prepared for that eat into me.

What's in my broken heart

Glee is one of my favorite shows.  In the latest episode, the sister of Sue Sylvester (one of the characters) had passed away and they had a funeral for her.  During the funeral, Sue tried to give this speech.  It was the hardest 5 minutes of TV my husband and I had to sit through.  The speech fully expressed what we currently (and will always) feel in our hearts for the loss of Dylan.


We miss our daughter every day.  Every minute.  We love our baby girl.

"...When you love someone like I loved her, there’s a part of you it’s like you’re attached by this invisible tether, and no matter how far away you are you can always feel them. And now every time I reach for that tether I know there’s no one on the other end, and I feel like I’m falling into nothingness.

...I miss my sister so much it feels like piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time I want to hold her. Just ten more seconds— is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold her? But I can’t and I won’t and the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness is that Jean would kill me if I did. So for now I’m just going to miss her."

I want my daughter back

There.  I've said it.  That is what is in my heart.  I want my Dylan back.

I want to go back to my 29th week of pregnancy.  During that exam the doctor would say that everything is going perfectly.  That Dylan's in perfect health.  We're going to have a beautiful baby girl soon.

Unfortunately, this is just a dream.  Dylan is gone.  She lives on in my memories and my heart now.  It's an unrealistic wish, but still I long for it.  I want her back.

I didn't know how much I would love her until the last few months.  She wasn't someone I could hold or talk to, but somehow while she was growing inside me, I fell in love with her, and then she was taken away from me before I could really meet her.  I never saw her look at me.  I never felt her tiny fingers wrap around mine.  I've never heard the sweet music of her cries. 

I would have shown her so much love.  Love only a mother can give. I understand now.  I understand what mothers feel for their children.  The unconditional love that one feels that can never be defined.  I understand.  When people say, "You will understand when you're a mother..." I can honestly say that I do understand now.

My heart is so broken.  I know that life goes on.  I have to live on.  But a part of me died when Dylan did.  I will heal in time, but I will never be whole...

A final farewell

On Friday, May 7th, we got up before dawn and headed out to Turtle Hill.  For those who don't know it, it's a small park on the top of a hill in the Sunset District that overlooks San Francisco.  It was a very quiet morning.  No rush to get to work.  No traffic.  Just a quiet drive of a family of three together for the last time.

It was still dark, with the sun was slowly making its appearance.  Light enough for us to see, but still in need of a flashlight.

Under the tallest tree at the peak of the hill, we dug a deep hole.  In it we poured in the ashes of our beloved Dylan.  We also put in a small picture.  The last picture of the three of us, taken just three days before Dylan was born.  This was our final goodbye to our baby.

Though she was physically gone, one of the hardest things to do was to shovel that dirt over the ashes.   It's a moment we will never forget, but something very painful to remember.

I just want my baby girl back.  I want to go back to February 4th and hear the ultrasound technician say that everything is fine.  That we're having a healthy baby.

I want to be in that operating room again and hear Dylan take a deep breath and let out the loudest cry possible.  To have her in my arms.  To feed her for the first time.  To look into her eyes and know that she is my daughter to love and spoil like no other.

Reality is cruel.  I can only look upon pictures of my baby girl and wish she would have known how much love we had for her.

We love you Dylan Simone.  Mommy and Daddy love you so much.  You will never know...

Ten years

Ten years ago today, I walked down the aisle to marry my best friend.  We still stand hand in hand, heart to heart... facing the most difficult time of our lives.  The loss of our baby.  We stand strong together.
Though our ten year anniversary is not as big an event as I once was planning it to be, I see the important thing is that we are still as much in love as we were so many years ago - if not even more in love. 

The two of us, we are a family.  Someday, we hope we'll be a family of three, or maybe even four.  But for today, we are a family of two with our precious angel looking down on us. 

Happy Anniversary Shawn. 

Our Angel

We were a family of three for 25 hours.  I never thought I would say those words... but here I am, home, recovering from a c-section, and no baby.

Dylan Simone was born on Tuesday, April 5th at 11:07am.

Unfortunately, the greatest fear we had for her came true.  She was not able to breathe on her own.  Over 10 doctors tried their best to help her, but...

We said goodbye to our little angel on April 6th.  Dylan was approximately 25 hours old.

There are no words to describe the loss of a child.  Literally a part of you dies and somehow you have to survive.  Nothing will ever heal you, but you find strength in the love and support of family and friends to continue.

What's been going on...

First things first... as most of my friends know by now, I'm pregnant.  We start week 38 tomorrow.  I know it's been a long time and my last blog made the promise of an announcement and then I just kind of went AWOL.   Oddly enough, I just haven't really talked about it, but here goes...

The first two trimesters were 'easy'.  I really didn't have morning sickness or experience any of the symptoms that you're warned about in the baby books.  I had monthly OB appointments that were not earth shattering.  Mostly 10 minutes of "how are you feeling?" and a quick listen to the baby's heart beat.  All was well.

We found out that we are having a girl.  We have named her Dylan Simone.  Dylan, just because we like it.  Simone is after my beloved grandpa, Simon.  

A couple of days before I hit 30 weeks, we went in for my third trimester ultrasound.  From that moment, our lives changed completely.  The doctor thought I was going into preterm labor and saw some abnormalities with Dylan's heart.   Apparently I was having contractions (though I couldn't feel them) and the baby was breech as well.  I was immediately admitted to the hospital with the warning that I may have an emergency c-section if necessary, but the baby would not survive because of her heart issues.

There are no words to describe how we felt with this news.  We were at 30 weeks.  How could this be happening?  Everything had been fine when we were checked just a few short weeks ago.


The last two months of pregnancy have been a miracle in and of itself.  I ultimately did not go into preterm labor and we were thankful for each day that we were able to keep Dylan safe and continually growing in belly.

What made this a nightmare was the fact that Dylan has heart issues.  Her right atrium is overgrown and her tricuspid valve is too thick - allowing blood to flow in and out, instead of just in one direction.  This caused her heart to grow to an abnormal size.  This added on the additional worry that the heart took up too much space for her lungs to develop to full size.

So what does that mean for an expectant mom?  Weekly ultrasounds, antenatal tests, echo cardiograms, in addition to the bi-weekly OB check-up appointments.  Let's throw in two MRI exams as well.  I'm also experiencing pelvic pain (most likely from Dylan dropping deep into my pelvis and hitting a nerve).  On most days, I can barely walk and need to use a cane.  One day last week, my right leg was so painful I needed to borrow a wheelchair to get to my appointments.

Through it all, we've gone from fearing the loss of a child at 7 months to the elation of knowing we've been able to carry her almost to full term and that she is receiving the best care possible from the UCSF Children's Hospital.

So here we are, on the edge of starting week 38.  Doctors tell us that Dylan will be delivered sometime during the following week.  We're aiming for a birthday of Wed, April 6th.

Unfortunately, I will not experience the joy of holding her in my arms when she is first born.  I know this.  Fetal cardiology will be taking her away for observation.  If all goes well, then she will be moved to the NICU and I can visit her there.  "Well" means that she is able to breath on her own and that her heart is cooperating - she could very well need heart surgery. 

Let me tell you, while crying is not my favorite sound, come D-day, when I hear my baby's cry for the first time, it will be the sound of music to my ears, because that tells me she's getting oxygen into her lungs.