A strong community we never wanted to be a part of... but find comfort in

I've known women who have had miscarriages, and I've thought about all the feelings that would come with a miscarriage... and the excitement when you hit that 12 week mark, or the anxious feeling before you get to 12 weeks. But I honestly never thought about having a stillborn baby. I really only knew a couple women who experienced it. There are different stages of stillborn. A baby is considered stillborn when making it to 20 weeks... or so that's what google says. The percent of miscarriage is 25%... 1 in 4, which seems too high :( The percent for stillborn babies is 1%... 1 in 100. 

I keep wondering why I had to be 1 in 100... I keep wondering why anyone has to be in the 25% or the 1%. Why do people who want that baby to join them have to be part of that percent? As I have wrote more about my story and shared it, I have had so many kind mommas reach out to me who have had similar experiences or just feelings of heartache from both miscarriage and stillbirth. There is something about someone just letting you know, "I know how you are feeling, and I'm here for you if you need me."

I know a lot of people don't know what I'm going through, and I'm thankful for them trying to find ways to help me. There is some kind of peace I get knowing other women have had my same experience and have "survived".

They know the feeling of hearing the words, "I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat." and your world comes crashing down. How could this happen... everything was suppose to be okay. I was 38 weeks pregnant and scheduled to be induced in 7 days, everything had to be okay and this had to be a nightmare.

They know the feeling of hope... as I waited to deliver my sweet angel baby, Quinn, I held onto the hope that the doctor was wrong and that she would come out alive and strong instead of lifeless.

They know the feeling when that hope comes crashing down because as you pushed your baby out there was no cry, but just silence in the room followed by cries from mom and dad.

They know the feeling of holding a sweet baby that will never open her eyes.

They know the feeling of taking her hand and wishing her fingers would clasp around yours.

They know the feeling of saying hello and goodbye in the same day. 

They know the feeling of leaving a hospital with empty arms.

They know the feeling of having your eyelids 3 times their normal size because you have cried for hours and hours.

They know the feeling of walking by your baby's room that is all set up but missing the baby that is suppose to fill it with diaper changes and those sweet baby smells.

There are so many feelings of sadness, but yet they are there for those of us experiencing it. I was so grateful that I was able to talk to two women in the hospital, I'm grateful for the women who have reached out to me through social media, and I will forever grateful for the kind photographers who volunteer their beautiful skills to capture the most beautiful angel babies.

I'm grateful for a strong community of moms who have experienced loss, and even though it is so so so hard, they still find that strength to reach out to others to bring them comfort. Thank you for using such a tragic event in your life to help bring a little peace and comfort to those of us just starting this journey. 

I also want to give a shout out to everyone who has sent kind messages and given us some of the most beautiful gifts we will ever receive to help us remember Quinn. I had someone ask me what my favorite gift was. And to be honest I never thought about a favorite, I just thought about the kind and loving people who were just trying to do anything and say anything they could to let us know how much we are loved.

You are my forever... and we will have a joyful reunion in Heaven someday.

Since losing Quinn I have been able to connect with a lot of moms who have experienced the same kind of loss. It's not a club we all wanted to join, but it is a group that reaches out and supports. One mom I've connected with was gifted a beautiful saying that has brought some comfort.

"And to think, the first thing you saw when you opened your little eyes, was the face of Jesus" 

- Andrew Michael

We buried Quinn in a beautiful cemetery, where they have a spot dedicated to angel babies who are two and under <3

We had the most beautiful service for Quinn. It was short, and we kept it small. My father in law's spiritual thought talked about how she is surrounded by so many who love her in heaven, and we will be with her again someday and what a great reunion that will be. 

Three of my dearest friends sang a song that I listened to my whole pregnancy, and each day since school has been out. Quinn and I would listen and she would kick to the sound. It's brought comfort on the hard days. 

My sister read a poem about white roses that some friends gave us along with 100 white roses. It is something I will hold dear to my heart forever <3

The White Rose – Myrna Cox

All the earth’s mothers where gathered together at God’s garden of flowers. Those beautiful budding spirits who would someday come to earth were nurtured and tended in the garden.

A loving father spoke to the mothers, “See the works of my hands? Some day you will be the mothers to these radiant spirits.”

The garden glowed with a mixture of all kinds and colors.
“Choose you,” He said.

Now in the east corner of the garden, pure white roses stood as sentinels. They were not so colorful as the rest, but glowed with a kind of purity, which set them apart. One by one, mothers stepped forward.

“I want the blue eyed, curly haired one, who will grow to maturity and be a mother in Zion.”

Yet another chose a brown eyed, brown haired boy, full of life and love, who would someday be a prince in a grand country. The garden buzzed with excitement as others chose their own special spirits, those whom they would soon welcome into warmth and love of an earthly home.

Once again the loving father spoke, “But who will take the white roses, the ones in the east corner of the garden? These will return to me in purity and goodness. They will not stay long in your homes, for I must bring them back to my garden for they belong with me. But they will gain bodies as was planned. You will miss them and long for them, but I will personally care for them.”

“No not I, “many said in unison. “I couldn’t bear to give one back so soon.” “Nor I” said others. “We will take those who will remain and grow to maturity and live long lives.”
The loving father looked out across the multitude of mothers with a longing in his eye for someone to step forward. Silence.

Then he said, “See the most pure and perfect of all the white ones? I chose him. He will go down and be a sacrifice for all mankind. He will be scorned, mocked, and crucified. He is mine own. Will not anyone of you choose like unto him?”

A few mothers stepped forward. “Yes Lord, I will.” Then another, “I will as well.” “Yes, we will Lord.”

Soon all the pure white roses were taken and they rejoiced in the choices of their mother.

The father spoke again, “Oh blessed are you who choose the white roses. For your pain will be a heavy cross to bear, but your joy will be exceeding beyond anything you can understand at this time.”

The white ones embraced their mothers and so full was their purity and love that it filled their souls with such endearment. Each mother knew that they could endure the task and the greatest of all the white ones gathered them as a hen gathers her chicks.
The outpouring of love surrounded each mother and child, consuming all the white ones as He prepared them for their task. And each mother who bore the weight of the white rose would feel the overwhelming love of God as they all shouted, “Thy will be done.”

We love you, Quinn. You will forever be in our hearts, and we will have a great reunion one day in heaven. 

Heaven Baby... helping our children understand

I remember not long after finding out that Quinn no longer had a heartbeat we called my mom. I only had told my sister that I was going to the hospital because I couldn't remember when she moved last. Brad had told his dad, but I didn't want to worry a lot of people. Well, my sister told my mom for us, and when brad called her he couldn't get the words out... none of us could, because how could our baby not having a heartbeat be real? It had to be a nightmare. We all cried together and somehow understood what was happening. Brad handed me the phone and I remember telling my mom that I can't do this, this thing that was happening to me was too hard and I wasn't ready. I was suppose to come into the hospital and they were suppose to be able to find her heartbeat. This wasn't what I had planned, and I am a planner when it comes to these things.

While on the phone I told my mom, "Mom, how do we tell our kids?! I can't tell them their baby sister, Quinn, died. I can't do that to them." At home we had been counting down the days that Quinn would make an entrance into our family. I had been scheduled to be induced July 29th, and each day we would ask Alexa how many more days until July 29th.

My sister had been watching the kids and we didn't call and tell her anything while with the kids. We had my father-in-law take over for the night and Brad planned on coming home and telling them.  Brad got a few hours of sleep and headed out to go home and shower and tell the kids. They had been wondering when we were coming home, and were expecting us to be bringing baby Quinn home.

He told them that baby Quinn had a special spirit that was needed back in heaven, and that she was now with Heavenly Father. It's interesting because when you have a baby that has died in the hospital they give you all these stapled booklets about grief and how to deal with it and I remember browsing one section where it talked about how to tell children. It said to come out and say that the baby died. My kids had just gone to a graveside service for their great grandpa, so they understood what happened to our sweet baby Quinn, but they had a hard time understanding why it had to happen. They both cried, which Brad told them it's okay to cry because mom and dad had cried a lot too.

A day or two after I got home I had a friend who went us a beautiful book called, Heaven Baby.

We sat down one night and read this book together. It's such a beautiful story told from a 5 year old's perspective about an angel baby brother she has in heaven. As we read it, we talked about what we thought heaven might be like, and what we think Quinn might be doing up there. 

Losing their baby sister has been hard. Both of my kids keep asking me if I have another baby in my tummy. Chase has cried about how he still wants a baby sister, which is interesting because he cried when he found out Quinn was a girl. I'm not sure how things will go moving forward, but we will continue to celebrate our Angel Quinn. She is so loved and missed. Charley decided to go the mortuary so she could see Quinn and their matching bracelets that a friend made for both of us. 

Both kids wanted to help in the graveside service by carrying the casket. It was so sweet, but something I hope no one I know has to experience. 

I'll be adding a graveside post in the next few days with all my thoughts...

A baby born still is still a beautiful baby

I've found that there aren't the perfect words for anyone who has a stillborn, and I decided to write my story so that I could try to explain the best I could my own feelings about having a stillborn. It's only been 6 days, but each day has brought a challenge and I am learning more about myself and celebrating holding my sweet Quinn for the time I was able to.

After having Quinn and getting feeling back in my legs (thank you epidural), our nurse, Katherine, asked if I would want to go to the surgery recover floor or the postpartum floor. She told me she would recommend going to the postpartum floor because they would give me better care, but I might hear some babies cry. I had already heard the baby's heartbeat in the room next to me, so I didn't think anything could be worse. They moved me to a wheelchair and we headed to postpartum, where when you entered it said, "welcome to motherhood!" I have two kids at home, but it seemed to sting a little because my baby wasn't in my arms like normal.

Katherine, gave me a little minky blanket on my way out, and said she had talked to a friend that told her the hardest part of her day was leaving the hospital without a baby. She thought I could at least have a blanket to hold when I left. My new nurse in postpartum was great, but I was handed a bunch of paperwork to go through and it wasn't really something I wanted to think about. One thing they kept pushing was choosing a mortuary. I wasn't ready to choose a mortuary, I wasn't planning on leaving the hospital without my baby. I wasn't planning on filling out a form for a death certificate instead of a birth certificate.

Brad and I tried to sleep the best we could for a little bit because we had been up all night. I think I may have gotten 1.5 hours of sleep while there, but as I was about to fall asleep I kept hearing the Dr tell me there was not heartbeat. I felt like I was in a nightmare and still do. I'm just waiting to wake up.

We were able to spend hours and hours holding our sweet Angel. She is so beautiful, and you couldn't help but rock her as your held her. The night shift nurses were great bringing her to me when asked, but once the shift changed and I had her brought to me during the day I broke down in tears when the Nurse House Supervisor brought her in and had covered her whole body with a blanket to hide her. I thought she was so beautiful, they could at least uncover her before they brought her in my room.

Later in the day some wonderful moms that volunteer for Share Parents of Utah came to visit with me and talk about the babies that they had lost. They let me talk with them, cry with them, and gave me information for monthly support meetings they have. They took Quinn and made mold impressions of her hands and feet so that I could always have them close to me. I told them how I was scared to tell my kids that their baby sister died and was now in heaven (thanks Brad for telling them). They gave me books for us to read together, and because of Covid they weren't able to visit so they helped me find special bears for Quinn to take pictures with that they can keep forever. I will be forever grateful for these women who volunteer, and for the photographer who volunteers to take pictures of angel babies.

(isn't she such a beautiful angel)

As I held her for one last time in the hospital, I cried and cried realizing she wasn't coming home with us. I had to leave my beautiful baby, who I had spent the last 38 weeks with dancing inside me. It didn't seem fair. I just keep reminding myself that someday we will all get to be together, and that she had a few great grandpas and family members welcoming her to heaven.

We called the nurse at 7:45 to let them know we were ready to go. I thought they would wheel me out in a wheelchair, that seems to be what normally happens after you have a baby... and I did just have a baby, she just wasn't coming home with me. But the nurse didn't come with a wheelchair, so I got out of bed and walked down the hall where everyone stared. I'm sure they tried to think of something to say. I read that only 1% of pregnancies end in still birth (which is after 20 weeks). Only 2.1/10,000 still births occur around 37-38 weeks. It didn't seem fair. And it didn't seem fair that I had to walk out of there, a nurse escorting us outside and awkwardly standing in the elevator with us, and no baby.

So if this happens to you, and I pray it doesn't... make sure you ask for a wheelchair, because hello... you did have a baby that morning, and having to walk out when I was crushed inside was one of the hardest things to do.

Our Angel, Quinn Nicole Campbell

Monday, July 20th I headed in for my weekly appointment. Everything looked great, and Quinn's heart was beating strong. Tuesday Brad and I were busy with family in town for his grandpa's funeral and I wasn't really paying attention to see if she was kicking me.

Wednesday I realized I hadn't felt her move, and so I started drinking juice and laying down. I thought I would feel little flutters, but it wasn't her normal jab in the ribs. So around 5pm I just didn't have a good feeling and couldn't stop worrying so I told Brad I wanted to go to the hospital just to check on her.

When we got to the hospital they had a room ready to check her heartbeat. They asked me when the last time I felt her move, and I couldn't remember. I told them I thought I had felt her move that day, but I think I was just being hopeful. I mean she was fine two days ago when I had my appointment. She had to be okay, and I just had to be paranoid.

The nurse put the heart monitor on, moved it around, but couldn't find a heartbeat. So next the on call Dr. was called in and she had a small ultrasound machine. Quinn was over on my right side in a position that was hard to see if her heart was beating, so they called for an ultrasound tech with a bigger screen so they could really see. At this point there was a nurse in the room trying to reassure me that the baby was in a weird position and that there was still hope. The Dr. used the bigger machine and confirmed that there was no heartbeat, and she didn't see very much amniotic fluid.

"Kellie, I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat." was probably the worst thing I've ever heard in my life. I'm 38 weeks pregnant, she was suppose to be okay, and we had scheduled to have her in a week. My heart was broken, and I was screaming "No" over and over again as Brad and I cried together. It didn't seem real. How could this happen? The Dr. hugged me for a while and looked me in the eye saying, "Kellie, you need to know that this is not your fault! It is not your fault."

It's been a internal battle within me to keep telling me it wasn't me fault. Why didn't I come sooner... why did I not have very much amniotic fluid... She was suppose to be okay, and I didn't help her when she needed my help. So many thoughts flowed through my head.

We were moved to a delivery room and I decided to get the pitocin right away so that I could deliver her. I got my epidural and we just sat, and cried more and more. My Dr. was called and he came in to check in on me and said he would come back to deliver her.

About 5 hours later I called my nurse to tell her it was time... Her name was Katherine, and she was the sweetest Labor and Delivery nurse. my Dr. arrived about 10 minutes after being called, I pushed two times, and our beautiful Quinn Nicole was born still at 1:20am on July 23rd. They cleaned her off for me and then put her in my arms, and I cried and cried and cried because how could this beautiful baby not be alive.

The nurses worked hard to find her the cutest clothes they could in the hospital since we left our diaper bag in the car and we just wanted to be together for as long as we could. We had her weighed and measured. She weighed 6lbs 9 oz which we thought she was more because she has such chubby cheeks. She measure 19 1/4 inches and was beautiful.

We were able to spend as much time as possible with her until I checked out that night at 8pm. We still are not sure what happened... my water wasn't broken, so we talked and gave the hospital permission to do an autopsy after talking with my dr. He said because I was still young and would probably have more children it would be helpful to see if there was something they could find from the autopsy.


I'll share more about my hospital experience having a stillborn baby in my next post.

This is one of my favorite pictures of her because you can see her Chubby cheeks. The nurses also all commented on how long her fingernails are.