When Your Child has a Child - Stillborn I am a Mother I am a Grandmother and I am a Nurse. My background is in pediatric nursing. I have held dying babies. I have done post mortem care on dead babies. I have carried those same babies to the morgue. I have sat with and cried with grieving parents. NONE of my professional experiences prepared me for the phone call that came from my beautiful daughter who was 38 weeks pregnant. She had called me the night before to report on her doctor's appointment. "They told me to go home and get ready to have a baby" she said. This being her second child in 14 months she had some preparations to put in place. She was so happy, so excited. My daughter is a special education teacher and this was the first day of her spring vacation. She had waited to set up her nursery until this week. She and her husband had chosen not to learn the sex of the baby and were busy choosing names for boys and girls. I went to work on Tuesday morning full of anticipation. I alerted my staff that I might have to leave at any moment as I was expected to be in the delivery room. The phone call came as I was walking back to my center from the Medical Director's office. "Mom, can you meet me at the hospital"? My heart leapt with anticipation. The adrenalin started to run. "They can't hear the baby's heartbeat and they want me to go to the hospital where they have better ultrasound equipment - can you meet me there?" I KNEW WHAT THIS MEANT I also knew that what I said next and how I said it would be very important. She had driven herself to the Dr. appointment and had her 14 month old daughter with her. She had every intention of driving herself to the hospital. She didn't want to upset her husband at work. I wasn't sure what she really thought was happening. It wasn't until many hours later that she disclosed that the nurse-midwife had told her she "didn't think the baby was any longer with us." I raced back to my unit, delivered the news, established who was to be in charged, promised to call and RAN the 6 blocks to the hospital. I'VE never been good at waiting. I waited in the lobby for what seemed like hours. I went up to the ultrsound area where they informed me she had not yet arrived and they were waiting for her too. Fortunately I bumped into a Social W,orker I knew who engaged me in conversation until my beautiful, pregnant daughter arrived. Her husband was with her and their young child. Someone had had the good sense to encourage her to make that call. We waited again, for what seemed like an eternity. All four of us were ushered into a very small room and given instructions on how to prepare for the ultrasound. The first image made it abundantly clear to me that no heart was beating. I was standing behind my daughter's head. I watched her heart start to break. I shook my head NO so that my Son in Law could see that I already knew what the tech was not saying. My daughter's stricken husband held up one finger to tell me to wait - he was so sure we would see that everything was ok. My daughter's face told the story one more time. She was now feeling his pain too. The tech said he would go get the Doctor - Nothing else. The Doctor arrived and expressed his condolences. Still no one had stated the facts. The much anticipated, loved child, no longer had a beating heart. The nurse in me kicked into gear - BIG TIME. The Mother and Grandmother in me would just have to wait. If we were going to have to deal with this horrific turn of events then I was going to do everything in my power to make it as meaningful and painless as humanly possible. My daughter would be turning to me for medical advice and for truthful answers to the hard questions. She has always called me with medical questions for herself and her friends because she knows "My Mom will tell me the truth." They told her they would call her MD. There were choices to be made. She decided to be induced immediately. Later she told me she had seen an episode of ER and knew that a "normal vaginal delivery would be best for potential future pregnancies." We were moved to a delivery room and grim reality began to set in. Arrangements needed to be made for my grandaughter. Calls needed to be made. All manner of activity diverted attention from the ultimate results for a brief period of time. Monitors were hooked up, IV's were started, epidurals were placed. I called on professionals I knew and asked for any help we could get. One special nurse even brought "real" tissues - not the hospital issue - they were a special gift. My daughter later reported to her friends that I had moved mountains. I believe in times like these nurses are hard wired to do something of substance. She was counting on me and I was not about to let her down. She was NEVER left alone. We - her husband and I - took turns sitting with her, talking and crying. An endless stream of hospital professionals continued to arrive asking an unbelievable amount of questions. Histories were taken on both families. Blood work was done. Everyone wanted to know WHY this had happened to a perfectly healthy young woman who had had an uneventful pregnancy. One of my calls for help produced our family Minister in what seemed like an instant. Birthing, grieving and praying were happening simultaneously. Then the hard labor pains started and so did the hard questions. "Will you be wanting a full autopsy?" "What would you like us to do with the baby?" "Will you be staying overnight?" "Which funeral home would you like us to call?" All of this was so foreign to a young couple who, up until 4 hours before were choosing baby names. They asked me to explain what would take place during an autopsy. I chose my words very carefully. Knowing they expected the whole truth and watching their horrified faces was taking its toll. And then she was born. I cut her cord as I had for other grandchildren. I had told my Son-in-law what would happen and that we would hold, name and photograph and love this child. He was totally on board. He was truly amazing. My daughter's first question was "What is it?" "It's a girl" and another whole round of tears started. Her next statement - as she held her - was - "She's still warm". The staff could not have been more wonderful. They were very skilled in their handling of this life altering event. Other Grandparents arrived and emotions ran high. The "Big Sister" arrived and in her own 14 month old way - touched and smiled at the baby. A visual examination had provided a potential answer to the "why" and with that we all held together to attempt to survive and support these amazing young people. As the hours wore on it became evident that surrendering the baby was going to require a superhuman act. I left the parents alone to say goodbye to their daughter. I then watched my daughter being wheeled from the delivery room with empty arms, a face distorted by pain and a truly broken heart. Her brave husband by her side, we walked solemly to the private room thoughtfully provided on a non postpartum floor. They decided the 14 month old should have at least one parent to put her to bed. I was left alone with my devastated child. Not knowing quite what else to do next and fearing I might not have much left to give I instinctively crawled into bed with her, took her in my arms and cried with her. No words were necessary and for a very long time - none came. Her husband returned. I left to go home. I was to return in 6 hours and trade places with him again. As I drove home to a sleepless night I tried to separate out the nurse feelings, the Mother feelings and the Grandmother's grief. It was not possible. It wasn't until months later, on a quiet day next to a favorite lake that my daughter defined for me what had been blocking my path to some acceptable resolution. She, who had lost her child, was consoling me! She said she had recently begun to understand that my grief was two fold. My grief was that of a Mothers and a Grandmothers. I had lost a Grandchild and endured witnessing an unimagineable suffering of one of my own children. I had also been called upon to utilize all my professional training and give everything I had to this couple. To say that Role confusion had been redefined goes well beyond understatement. Our lives have all been profoundly changed forever. It has been 3 years 5 months and 26 days since we last held Nora in our arms. She has taught us so much about life.  There is never a day we don't think about her. She has shown us that we should never forget how fortunate we are and that we should always be greatful for what we have. Life can change forever - in an instant. She changed all of our lives and We will hold her in our hearts forever. Susan Fraser Adams "Nana"