My husband and I were delighted and nervious when we found out I was pregnant. It seemed to me he was glowing more than I was. We loved reading about the changes and growth going on within our son. There was not a day we didn't descuss some new dream or plan we had for him. Looking back the thing I wanted most was to hold my son in my arms and read to him and then one day he would climb in my lap and read to me.
I was a Preschool teacher. I loved my job, getting children ready for Kindergarten and helping them learn good social skills was a wonderful way to spend the day. But while I was pregnant one little girl got sick. I thought she had a cold or maybe the flu, and I had had the shot. She was tired and achy. Her mother said she was just faking it, but i knew something was up. The problem was she did not have strong enough symptoms for me to send her home. Her temp never went above 99.5. Then after a week and a half of this she developed a rash. It was fifth's disease, also called 'slapped face' or parvo. I had never heard of fifth's and thought only animals got parvo.
When I looked it up online I got worried, but my work and dr's told me it was increadibly rare that it could affect the baby and not to worry. When we went for an ultrasound I asked for a test to make sure I had not gotten it. I had no symptoms, no rash.
Four days later I got the horrible phone call that I had Fifths and we were going to have to do weekly ultrasounds, just to check in on my little Liam. We were so filled with hope. It is very rarely transfered to the child.
Days later we found that Liam was 'severly' anemic with swelling around his belly, and small pockets of swelling around other organs. Within 24 hours we rushed hours away to get Liam a blood transfusion he so badly needed. They stuck a needle in my belly and then into his and injected him with purified dense blood. The Dr's were wonderful and spoke kindly to Liam during the process as my husband tightly held my hand.
Another week later Liam's little heart had stopped beating. It was too much on him. Being that young and anemic can make your heart go into distress and that is more than likely what took his life. My family rushed to be with us and a few days later I delivered our beautiful son still.
I am glad for good Dr's and Nurses. I am lucky I got to hold him for several hours before they took him away, and that my sister took lots of good pictures. But nothing can heal this hole in my heart.
i feel so guilty. I held that sick child and tried to help her. I didn't know she had anything more than a simple cold, but I should have. As I held her, her sickness seeped into me and then into my child. Helping her I lost my son.
How can I forgive myself?
My husband tells me it is not my fault. But shouldn't I have known? Shouldn't some sort of motherly intuition have added me and protected me son? I would have given him every drop of my blood to help him process his blood and no longer be anemic.
Now I have an empty womb, empty arms, and am full of guilt.