Days & Years After Reita Gale's Funeral

The days following Reita Gale's funeral were dreadful.  I missed my baby girl so much.  I had to try to carry on some kind of normal life for my rainbow sons.  They loved all of the flowers that came to us from our friends.  Invitations came for them to go play with their friends so I could have some time for my own to reflect.  To keep my sanity, I carried on with household duties and thank you notes to be written.  At least own home wasn't filled with silence as it was after James Collins, Jr died.  I can tell you that from my prespective, having rainbows kept me sane.  It was very different from when it was my firstborn to die.  My household was alive with the sound of children, slamming doors, and running little feet around the house.  It helped so much from keeping me from digging the deepest hole and climbing in it.

The first night after the funeral, I got out of bed and went downstairs with a blanket and pillow.  I went into the dining room and closed off the doors.  I got down on my knees and crawled under the dining room table, dragging my pillow and blanket with me.  I curled up on the hardwood floor and cried until I fell asleep.  I needed to be completely alone with my thoughts of the "what ifs" and the "never will be's".  My beautiful little baby girl gone.  Gone with her were the ponytails and ribbons in her hair, her first doll baby from Santa, painting her toe nails pink, pretty girl dresses, mother and daughter talks.  My life with her was shattered.

The next December, which would have been her "First Christmas" James and I went Santa shopping for our sons in Richmond, VA.  The first aisle we came to were the dolls.  We looked at each other and broke down all to pieces crying as people walked by us.  We just cried until we could get ourselves composed.  We went on with our shopping, but never of us has ever forgotten that Christmas shopping day in 1982.

As the years passed us by, we saw girls that would be her age.  We couldn't help but wonder what she would be like.  We often took our sons with us to visit the grave sites of their brother and sister.  They never really understood what it meant to us.  Only James and I talked of her.  Her name was never mentioned to us by anyone else.  It was as though she never existed.  The same was for her brother.  We always remembered them in our church at Easter with an Easter Lily and at Christmas with a Poinsettia.  We remembered both of our children to each other often.

My sweet precious baby daughter.  You would be 30 years old today, almost 31.  I have missed your proms, graduations, first boyfriends, your wedding, and possible grandchildren.  I didn't get the chance to teach you to cook, go on shopping sprees, or learn make-up tricks.  What I didn't miss, my sweet child, were your kicks in my womb, listening to your heartbeat, and planning your funeral.  The rest we will just have to catch up on in Heaven.

Until then, just keep sending me butterfly kisses.  I will blow sweet kisses your way.

Reita Gale's Story: Part II Her Stillbirth

The morning dawned on May 31, 1982.  My heart was so full of agony, sadness, and just plain heavy with hurt.  I would give birth to my baby today and she would be stillborn.  How well I knew that feeling.  May 2, 1975 I gave birth to my firstborn son, also a stillbirth.  Now, here I am again, in the same hospital going through it again. My mind wasn't comprehending  how this could happen to me twice!  It wasn't fair!  I was tired of "making lemonade out of lemons!"  Enough already!  Oh please, not that raw pain again that just engulfs your entire being!  But there was no way of escaping.

Dr. A came into my room to explain that this would be a difficult labor and birth.  Since my baby's heart had stopped beating at between 4 to 5 months along, he said most times these babies don't want to let go.  Thus the mother's body has to work more intensely to deliver.  Well, this scared me!  My other deliveries had been no picnic.  I prepared myself mentally, phsically and spiritually for what was about to happen.  I just concentrated on Jesus nailed to the cross to bear my pain for me. I knew I could not get through this without Jesus with me.  The nurse came in with the pills for me to take.  I swallowed them down with hard gulps.  These were the pills that would rip my baby from my body.  I felt my belly and its roundness.  I felt my baby inside me trying to memorize the feeling.  I knew my time with her was precious and few.  Labor began shortly. The pains came sharp, but I just kept the image of Jesus in my mind as my pain reliever.  I just couldn't believe I was going through this nightmare again!  Giving birth to a dead baby is an extremely horrible experience, but going through it twice was just unthinkable.  My doctor told me after the first stillbirth seven years ago that this would never happen to me again.  I believed him. Don't ever say never!  You just didn't hear about these types of births much at all.  Twice to one mother was just unheard of.  I didn't understand at all why this was happening to me.  The pains came in waves, shaking my very being.  I just kept that image of Christ for me to focus on.  I KNOW it helped with the pain because it never got as bad as the doctor had described to me.  All of a sudden, I felt the urge to push.  This was much sooner than anyone had expected. No!  I don't want her out!  I don't want to push my baby out of me because then she will be gone from me!  I was hurried to the delivery room where my daughter was soon delivered.  I had known the entire time that this child of mine would be a girl!  I had a daughter! We had conceived a daughter after all of this time! She was handed over to me to hold for just a few seconds before it came time for the afterbirth to be delivered.  All of a sudden I felt like all hell had come down on me.  The pain!  The afterbirth wasn't coming!  Without any noticed for me to prepare with a cleansing breath or anything, Dr. A just went in to get it with his hands!  I felt like I was being ripped apart!  I screamed with all of my might and grabbed his arms to pull them out of me.  Once again, my hands were restrained by nurses.   I didn't have time to catch my breath.  He just kept right on pulling.  Suddenly he stopped.  He said he got " most of it" leaving me with a D&C to have the next morning.  Next,  he and the nurses started massaging my belly to try one more time to get it to release.  Oh how that hurt!  Please just stop it!  Do the D&C and leave me alone!  They stopped because it wasn't working.  I was cleaned up and carried back to my room.  James came in.  His mother was there also.   The nicest nurse came in carrying our precious baby girl wrapped in a little blanket.  The nurse put her in my arms as she told me how beautiful our baby was. The nurse told is she weighed 1 lb and 4 oz.   Our daughter was just so tiny, but was perfectly formed and made. We both knew already that her name would be Reita Gale Fitts.  James had given our firstborn son the only gift he could offer, his name.  I gave our only daughter now, the only gift I coud give her, my name, Reita Gale.  She had died from another cord accident.  Right where the cord met her abdomen, it had been pinched tight due to her moving round and round.  I had more umbilical problems than I even knew were possible.  She had ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers perfectly formed.  Everything about her was perfect, except the cord.  Her face was not like James Collins, Jr's though.  He had a peaceful expression when he was born.  Reita Gale did not.  Her face had a very painful expression which saddened us to know end.  She had suffered.  She had known pain.  You could just tell that without a doubt.  Poor baby.  She had suffered, but was no longer in pain.  Her spirit had left already for Heaven.  She was with her brother in God's arms.  She was my 2nd angel baby.  And I cried as I held her.  I wrapped her finger around mine.  It was so tiny.  Her head had fuzz for hair.  Her eyes were shut as James, Jr's had been, but I already knew they were blue.  My two rainbows sons have beautiful blue eyes, so hers had to be also.  Wow, she had three older brothers to look after her...one in Heaven and two on earth.  What a great time she would have had with two older brothers making over her and protecting her here on earth.  That was not to be and that saddened me immensely.  I had always wanted two boys and then a girl, so the boys could take care of her during her high school years.  So many things we were now going to miss. Her first steps. Her first boyfriend.  Her wedding.  Her children.  Spoiling her.  James just wept for his daughter. I did too as my heart was beating heavily with pain.  It is a pain so intense that you can try to describe it, but never do it justice.  My heart was just so heavy and I felt the grief aging me beyond my 31 years.  Who is to say what is fair or not?  I didn't matter.  Fair or not, I was holding my dead baby daughter who was wanted beyond words.  I was trying to take a lifetime with her in with me during the short time we were given with her in my room.  Did I tell you that she had little fingernails and toe nails?  Her nose was so cute.  I kissed her.  We had not thought of bringing a camera to take her picture.  I wanted pictures of me kissing her and her finger wrapped on mine and her daddy's.  Then it was over.  Too quickly the nurse took her away.  She was gone.  I would never see her again. I was numb with grief already.  James left as I was going to rest.  It had been a very hard morning to say the least.  His mother stayed a short while after he left.  I closed my eyes, but could not sleep.  My only daughter had died.  I knew I would grieve for her forever.  As I layed resting the nurse told my MIL she was sorry for the loss of her granddaughter.  My MIL told the nurse that she already had a granddaughter that took up all of her time.  She told the nurse that she really didn't have the time for another one.  My eyes were closed, but I could just imagine the shocked look on the nurses face.  As I layed there quietly, my insides were ripped out once more to hear from her own lips in her own voice that she didn't really have time for my baby girl.  I have never ever been so hurt by that woman.  Did she even understand what she was saying about her own granddaughter?  My daughter had just died and she really didn't care.  She left.  I was left alone in my room to rest.  Right!  How does a mother who has just given birth to her dead child rest?  She doesn't.  She cries her eyes and heart out!

Suddenly I sat up in my bed, reached for the telephone and called the funeral home to plan my own daughter's funeral.  With my son, she planned it and I didn't get to go!  I wasn't going to let that happen again!  This time things were going to be different.  I would not only plan her funeral, but I would also not be left behind!  I planned the date to be June 3, 1982.  This would give me time to have the D&C and still be home to help with everything.  I called James and we discussed the funeral plans I had made thus far.  He promised to do the rest, right down to the flowers I requested.  He agreed with me that no one would attend the graveside services but us and our two sons.  We told no one of the funeral.  He called our church minister and the associate minister to  give the service.  It would be at 11:00 because I love the morning time.  As it turned out, my doctor decided I didn't need the D&C after all.  I questioned this call as I wanted to try again for another pregnancy and I knew the best way to get back on schedule would be to have the D&C.  He wouldn't do it.  So, on June 1, 1982 I left the hospital for the second time with empty aching arms.  I should be holding my daughter all dressed up in pink and white.  It was even harder this time than the first.  I think it was just the sheer disbelief that it was happening again.   The silent ride home was deafening.  How would we explain this to Collins & Taylor?

Reita Gale's Story: Part One

January 1982,  James and I began talking about having another baby.  It had been our plan all along to have three munchkins running around ever since we were engaged and dreaming of our future together.  Even though I felt extremely blessed to have my two rainbow sons, I felt a baby girl might be nice to try for.  James agreed.  It was our secret.  If we got pregnant, fine.  If I couldn't conceive, well we could live with that also.  We were excited about trying!  In February, I was late!  That  never happened unless I was pregnant!  I had always been like clock work.  We now had an option open to us that we never had before.  We could go to the drugstore and buy a Pregnancy Test!  Gosh, we lived in a fairly small town.  The druggist  knew us.  Hmmm...where to go?  We just went to the closest one to where we lived late in the evening so less people would be there.  We quickly picked out one and bought it.  With the test safely in the bag, we headed home.  The next morning I took the test and it was pure positive!  We were so excited!  This was on a weekend, so I made plans to call to make  an appointment with my OBGYN on Monday morning.  We didn't tell anyone.  Monday came and I called to make my appointment with Dr. A who had delivered Taylor.  I had to wait another week to see the doctor.  Meanwhile, the thoughts of another baby in the house was thrilling!  I just knew this was going to be a girl.  I was really confident about it.  I was getting all giddy about it!  The next Friday night, a week after the positive test, I started spotting a little.  I panicked and went to lie on the sofa.  I didn't move except to prop up my feet.  I was on my back.  I prayed it was only spotting and nothing more.  I had never spotted during my other three pregnancies, so to say I was concerned was an understatement.  I stayed downstairs on the sofa that night, not moving for fear of what might happen.  The next morning was Saturday, but James still had to go in to work.  He made breakfast for our two small sons, dressed them, and got them busy playing before he left for work.  I slowly got up to go use the bathroom.  The moment I sat down, I heard and felt a "plop."  Something had fallen out of me.  I got up to see what it was.  I just stared at a medium size oval bloody mass.  I hurriedly called my doctor at the hospital.  He rang me right back.  He also lived in our neighborhood, so we were neighbors as well as doctor/patient.  I was told that I most likely had just had a miscarriage.  End of story. Most likely??? I asked if I needed a D & C and he said it wasn't necessary.  I was very emotional.  What should I do with the miscarried baby???  I couldn't just flush it away!
What I did next was horrifying, but I did it anyway.  When I loss my James Collins, Jr to stillbirth, one of my fellow teacher friends told me her story of miscarriage.  She told me what her doctor told her to do and she did it.  Looking at the mass and wondering if it was just a clot or if it was a baby, I decided on my own accord to do what my friend had done.  I do NOT advise anyone to ever do this.
 I went to the kitchen, got a butcher knife, went back to the bathroom, put some paper towels on the counter, picked up the mass from the toilet and laid it on the paper towels.  I picked up the knife while deciding where to cut, then I cut through the mass.  I heard the loudest clearest "pop" noise.  It was at that point that I realized I had just cut my own baby half into.  It was a mass, but it had a spine!  The popping noise was the spine breaking into, at least this is what my friend had told me her doctor had said it was.  My baby was developing  inside of me before it came out.   I do understand the baby was no longer viable and I had miscarried.  That didn't diminish the fact that I actually felt the spine as it cut into.  I can't describe in words how I felt then and how I feel now.  I should have thought it through some more.  I acted too quickly.  I became ashamed of myself.  Why did I ever think it was okay to cut into that mass?  I can only say I did it out of selfishness because I wanted to know for sure if it was a pregnancy or not.  so, what God had created I destroyed. I took away any dignity the forming baby had. It has taken me years to understand that.  To add on more insult to the child, I just considered it a mangled mess at that point.  It pains me to know end to say that I flushed it down the toilet.  To be honest, I didn't know what else to do.   I have pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind for decades until recently.  I've pushed that baby into the very back of my mind until recently.  Oh, I have thought about that day before through the years, but quickly moved on to other thoughts.    What will will he/she say to me when I get to Heaven?  That child of mine had a spirit and soul already.  I believe that.  I never mention this child because I am embarrassed.  I'm embarrassed by what I did and that I have just pushed this child away.  This is something I'm going to have to figure out.  I am that child's mother. 

We continued on with our lives which were hectic with two boys.  Everything was normal until one day I realized that I never have had a period since my miscarriage.  There wasn't any real bleeding with it, just the one bloody mass.  This was unusal, so I made an appointment to see if perhaps I should have had a D & C after all.  My regular doctor was away on vacation.  He had a doctor from Duke Hospital taking over for him for 6 weeks.  After talking with this doctor and having an exam, I discovered that I was pregnant!  Who would have thought?  We weren't trying.  This doctor told me that he felt sure I had been carrying twins and that one of them miscarried while the other continued on growing.  I didn't know what to think or say!   The due date was scheduled for the first of October.  But gosh, twins!  I am a twin.  I have an identical twin sister.  James and I always had hoped for twins.  We lost her sister.  I say sister because like I said before, I knew in my heart I had a daughter.  Now I know I had once had two daughters.  Before I left, I was told to take it very easy and not to travel unless it was absolutely necessary.  My dad had cancer and I had to travel an hour and a half to get to him. I had to put a halt on my visits until it was safer for me to travel.  My family now knew I was pregnant, but didn't understand my need for less travel.  I was doing everything to hold on to this pregnancy.  It was a few weeks later in March that my daddy died.  I definitely had my baby bump, as you moms now call it.  We just said we were showing!  I squeezed into an outfit that my twin and I had that were alike for daddy's funeral.  He always said we had to dress alike and I was going to do that for his funeral.  He was very proud of his twin girls.  As soon as I got home, I put on maternity clothes and felt so much better!  It was sad that my daddy wouldn't see my baby daughter.  April came with its promise of daffadils and dogwoods blooming!  I loved being outside with the boys.  We had a Pop-Up Camper and got it out for some cleaning and air-out.  The boys loved camping and so did I.  James began laying out plans for our new white picket fence to go around our white Cape Cod house.  With three little ones, I would need that fence!  It looked great going up.  I enjoyed a trip to Raleigh to buy some cute maternity clothes.  I loved the latest styles in maternity wear.  May was coming up.  I was cautious during the month of May because my precious James Collins, Jr. was stillborn May 2, 1975.  Dear Lord, please let me get through May.  I almost did.  The last Sunday in May I was feeling great.  It was getting late, nearing supper time and we were sitting out in our camper.  All of a sudden I knew.  I knew I hadn't felt my baby girl move all day.  I asked James to get the boys in the house and said by the way, our baby hasn't moved all day. Instead of going to the hospital right then, I waited until the next morning to go see my doctor.  It was Memorial Day Weekend in 1982 and all the family had plans.  James kept the boys while I went to get the news on that Monday morning.  No heartbeat detected.  Then I had my first ever sonogram which showed no beating heart.  I was numb.  I was going through the motions.  Next, over to thehospital for another sonogram from a better machine.  Same result.  Your baby's heart has stopped beating.  I knew that!  I knew that Sunday late afternoon when she had stopped moving!  No daughter to come home and live with us.  Plans were made for me to enter the hospital the next day and induce labor the next, May 31, 1982.  The last day of May.  We were like robots....just making movements to get the necessary things done to get ready to have this baby girl.  The boys didn't really understand what exactly was going on.  Only the baby wouldn't be coming to live with us.  I don't remember who kept the boys while James and I registered at the hospital.  Friends or James' mother, I don't remember.  I do remember that I spent a lot of time alone in the hospital.  I was put on a different floor than maternity.  One friend came to see me and I will gladly say her name out loud, Lynne Lynch!  She had three boys of her own at home, but she came to see me.  She brought me a chocolate candy bar and a chocolate milk shake.  I have loved her so much for that and have never forgotten it after all of these years.  Now, two family members came by together.  James' daddy & his sister.  Neither mentioned the baby or talked to me.  They carried on a two way conversation about something I had no idea about.  Excuse me?  You could have had this conversation at home!  Why bother to come by & see me?  After 10 minutes they were gone.  James was home taking care of the boys.  He needed to do that and he needed to be with me. I wanted James to be with our sons and keep life normal for them.  I didn't want to bother the family or ask for any help after my non-support from James Collins, Jr.'s stillbirth.  I cried and cried that night.  How could I sleep knowing tomorrow my baby girl would be taken from me.  I was between 5 and 6 months pregnant.  Before we left the house for the hospital, I asked James to take a picture of me pregnant with our baby.  Taylor, is with me in the picture.  He was two.   I am going to end this part of Reita Gale's story here.  I will write Part Two of her story shortly as it is lengthy as this part is.                                              

                                                                   
             May 31, 1982  On my way to the hospital to have my precious baby girl, Reita Gale Fitts.  My two year old Taylor is with me.

I Need To Rant About Grief!

I can't post about myself right now, because there are way too many of you with fresh hurt, fresh grief and I hurt so much for you.  I want to stop your hurting for you.  Even though I have loss two children to stillbirth, I can't do your grieving for you.  I wish this part of babyloss could be skipped.  I wish babyloss could be skipped.  I am reading so many blogs everyday full of grieving mothers and fathers.   Grief is lonely.  The hurt is lonely.  The endless days and nights you endure with soul wrenching hurt is your walk.  I can walk it with you from cyberspace, but I want to hug each one of you and talk forever about your lost babies.  I can feel your heavy hearts, your cries, your anger, your frustration, your desperate need to hold your babies, your hope for a rainbow baby.  Yes, your baby needs a brother or sister for your sake.  It isn't fair, what you are going through.  But it happened to you and there way out.  No cure for your grief.  The only hope I can give you is that it will get better, I promise.  I was one of those "really bad cases."  I wanted to die so I could be with my son.  For times to get better, you still have to grieve first.  I will be glad when your first raw experiences of grief is over.  It consumes you.

When this happened to me, I wouldn't have wished this suffering on my worse enemy.  You have become my babyloss friend.  I am sorry we are friends under these circumstances.  More sorry than you probably realize.  I thought after 37 years, progress would have been made in babyloss.  I see it hasn't really.  I do see better after care....photos taken, cold cots for longer time with your babies.  BUT WHAT WE NEED IS PREVENTION!!  RESEARCH!  BETTER THIRD TRIMESTER CARE!  Stop the babyloss and the grief won't happen in the first place. 

Do we need to gather and rally for better pregnancy care?  We have to stop this maddness!  Every woman who wants to become a mother should have the chance with a happy ending.  The UK appears to have it together as to close support groups and getting petitions signed.  I am at a loss as to what is going on in the USA.  I think we are really far behind.

I don't want to just try to help you grieve, I want to stop your need for grieving in the first place.