Introducing Our First “Mom Of The Month”
“I cannot think of anyone stronger than a mother who has lost her child… and still breathes.”
-Robyna May
Just as no two human beings are the same, no two losses or grief journeys are the same. Each person has their very own, unique eperience with losing a child. That is why I am thrilled to introduce to you all our brand new blog series called The IWCY “Mom Of The Month”. Each month we will feature a mother who has experienced pregnancy and infant loss— in her own unique way. Our “Mom Of The Month” will have the opportunity to share her story, and her baby’s story, with the World.
I wanted to start this series for several reasons. First and foremost, there is power in sharing your story. Studies show that sharing your personal story of loss can help both you and others heal. Contrary to popular belief, most loss moms feel a very strong need and desire to talk about their children and share their story, but they simply do not have a space to do so. I hope this blog becomes that safe space for them to tell the World all about their precious babies.
Secondly, pregnancy and infant loss remains a taboo subject. How can something that happens to so many women remain so taboo? Not talking about something doesn’t make it not happen and it doesn’t make it go away. Quite the opposite actually. Not talking about it makes families, mothers in particular, feel all alone in the World. Like she is the only one who is going through this. Like she is the only one who “gets it”. This leads to increased feelings of guilt and shame, which then creates a more complicated grief journey. It’s time we start talking about it. I hope and pray this special blog series will help raise the public’s awareness, break the stigma, and give mothers a voice. I pray that it educates. I pray that it empowers. And most of all, I pray that it heals.
Our first “Mom Of The Month” is someone that is very special to me. She and I met through a mutual friend and colleague about a year ago when we were working on our First Angel’s Gala. This sweet mama was so very devoted to our mission, and she often voiced her motivation for getting involved— her deep love for her secondborn, Sam. Her story, like many stories of loss, is full of beauty and heartache, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, but most of all when I read her story, I can literally feel love. The love of a mother is probably the singlemost powerful force on Earth— I truly believe that. That fierce love is more than evident when I read this beautiful mama’s story.
So, without further ado, I would like to introduce to you our very first “Mom Of The Month”, Sam’s mom— Shady Honaker. Here is her story.
Sam’s Story
Shady Honaker, Sam’s Mom
“Sam’s life changed our family forever. There will always be a ‘before we lost Sam’ and an ‘after we lost Sam’. My life is split into two categories.”
“My husband and I decided to start trying for our second child in August of 2020. We got off of birth control and within 1 month became pregnant. We were so blessed to conceive so easily for the second time (our first son was almost two when we conceived). I can remember being about 10 days post ovulation and buying some first response tests after work. When I got home I told my husband we would test and then look together. When we saw the two lines we were so excited and my husband even got teary eyed thinking about being parents again. It was one of the sweetest moments of our marriage; just lost in the bliss of having another life to love and raise.
“It was one of the sweetest moments of our marriage; just lost in the bliss of having another life to love and raise.”
From the beginning I would say the anxiety was high. We both just had this fear of having a miscarriage as our first pregnancy was so incredibly easy. My doctor even made comments at my appointments about my unusually high anxiety surrounding this pregnancy and was concerned. We went in for our first appointment in early November and saw Sam’s heart beat and baby was measuring normally but I did have two subchorionic hemorrhages (SCH) and was placed on pelvic rest until 12 weeks. Despite our fears we kept making it—week after week we were advancing in this pregnancy and once we hit 12 weeks and our scan showed the SCH had resolved we took a deep breath and really felt like we could relax and get excited. At that scan Sam moved so much the ultrasound tech kept telling him to stay still so she could measure, he was so active! She also randomly did a 3D picture of him; these 3D images of Sam are more precious to me than I would have ever imagined at the time.
After the appointment I told my boss and fellow APRN about our pregnancy so that they could begin to prepare for my maternity leave as I am a Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner and wanted to ensure I was giving them plenty of time to make arrangements. We decided to wait until we knew the gender to tell anyone else about our pregnancy. On January 4th 2021 we went into First Glimpse Ultrasound Boutique in Monroe and found that we were having a little boy. We both said it didn’t matter the gender before the visit, but I believe we both wanted a boy and just were so excited about having our two boys. (Also side note- because of Covid, this was the only time my husband and Luke, my first son, were able to see Sam alive. We told our families at 15 weeks and everyone was so excited. I purchased a ‘Big Brother’ shirt for Luke and he took pictures holding Sam’s ultrasound pictures for our family announcement. It’s pretty much the only picture I have of both of my boys together.
“I purchased a ‘Big Brother’ shirt for Luke and he took pictures holding Sam’s ultrasound pictures for our family announcement. It’s pretty much the only picture I have of both of my boys together.”
I can remember being at a get-together with friends around 15 weeks gestation and finally telling them we were expecting. I kept using the term ‘cautiously optimistic’ and saying my first pregnancy was so easy I was just fearful that I couldn’t get that ‘lucky’ twice. I had also read a facebook story of a high school friend who lost her baby at 19 weeks around the New Year and I sobbed with this intense feeling of ‘that will be us’. It is the strangest thing to admit because I never told anyone these fears at the time. I was supposed to be in the clear and everything was fine. My 16 week appointment went just fine. My OB used the Doppler and heard Sam’s beautiful heart beat and then she offered to scan me ‘just because’ and of course I didn’t turn that down. Sam was confirmed to be a boy officially and looked perfect on ultrasound. I got a 2D image of his profile that day. Little did I realize, the cord was already around my sweet Sam’s neck on that ultrasound. I didn’t notice and even if I did; he was only 16 weeks and these commonly resolve anyways.
“Little did I realize, the cord was already around my sweet Sam’s neck on that ultrasound. I didn’t notice and even if I did; he was only 16 weeks and these commonly resolve anyways.”
I was turning 30 on Saturday, January 23rd and my work wanted to throw me a small party on Friday, the day before. I used my hand held Doppler on that Friday and heard my Sam’s heart beat for the very last time. It was 170 bpm and I thought to myself ‘I hope my baby doesn’t die on my birthday’. I felt uneasy his heart beat was a little elevated but I had eaten a lot of sugar that day and tried to relax. I went home and struggled to feel Sam’s movements through the weekend. I think I knew he was gone in my subconscious even then. On Tuesday, the 26th I was back in my office with my Doppler and tried to find Sam’s heartbeat with no success. Now, I am a trained WHNP who knows how to use this device and I couldn’t find it. I tried to calm myself down and tried again… nothing. Just the whoosh of my uterine blood flow. I called my husband at this point and texted a friend who has an ultrasound close by to see if we could swing by to see if everything was okay. We got there at 12:01 pm on Janurary 26th 2021. My friend placed the probe on my belly and my Sam looked like a crumpled dead spider.... that sounds graphic but he was just curled up in a ball with no movement and no heartbeat. We were 5 weeks from viability. My husband dropped to the floor in shock and I sat up stunned. I knew this would happen I thought to myself in that moment.
I rushed into planning mode while still sitting on the ultrasound table with my husband shattered next to me. I proceeded to call my boss and tell them what happened and that I would need off work. I called my OB and told her the situation and that I knew I would need to come in for induction. We went to our vehicles and drove home, I was stunned and silent and my husband was expressing a pain I’ve never seen in my whole life. We got home and my husband began packing and I went and picked up Luke and dropped off our dog at the boarding facility. I called my mom and sister and told them but I asked them to not tell anyone and that I didn’t want to talk to anyone at all. I felt this urgency to get Sam out… Like I was not allowed to look pregnant with this baby who had died inside of me. I looked normal on the outside but was anything but on the inside.
“I felt this urgency to get Sam out… Like I was not allowed to look pregnant with this baby who had died inside of me. I looked normal on the outside but was anything but on the inside.”
We arrived at Willis Knighton Pierremont and I was praying to God that somehow my baby would come back to life and the confirmation ultrasound would show that we were all okay. It didn’t, of course, and I believe that’s when I realized he was really gone. My Samuel had died. My worst fears had come true. I sobbed a guttural sob on that table and knew it was over.
I was admitted to labor and delivery for induction. I chose to not have an epidural despite being encouraged to for risk of d&c is high with stillbirths of this gestation; I wanted to feel this experience and I wanted to not lose my mobility. The induction process went as expected and at 2:50 am on January 27th 2021, at just 19 weeks gestation, I delivered my beautiful Samuel Beckett. He entered the world silent. I pulled him to my chest and he was warm from my body heat and tiny. He looked like Luke and it was the most joyful and sorrowful experience of my entire existence. He was only 5.5 ounces and 8 inches long. I held him and told him how much I loved him. My OB came in and delivered my placenta. I was struggling to hold onto Sam as they had given me pain medicine, but I fought through the fogginess and refused to let him go during the placental delivery; I was thankful for not needing a d&c. I knew I only had a limited amount of time with him and I cherished him as long as I could. We gave him to the nurse for the last time after spending only 6-8 hours with our son. Because of Covid my Luke never got to meet his brother in person. Something I will never get back. I left the hospital with breasts engorged from milk and without my son to feed, with empty arms, with a box instead of a baby, with a pamphlet on stillbirth instead of on newborn care. I was emotionally shattered, I thought I would never smile or laugh again. The pain of losing a child is unimaginable. I felt like I was robbed of all joy, hope, and laughter forever.
“….. I delivered my beautiful Samuel Beckett. He entered the world silent. I pulled him to my chest and he was warm from my body heat and tiny. He looked like Luke and it was the most joyful and sorrowful experience of my entire existence.”
A couple weeks later we got his pathology and testing results back. He was chromosomally normal, my placenta had some mild abnormalities but nothing that was a cause of Sam’s death. Sam’s cord was the length of a full term fetus, it was hypercoiled and he had a triple nuchal (around his neck 3 times). My Sam died from ‘fetal malperfusion’ or basically reduced blood flow from his umbilical cord length, coils and it being wrapped around his neck. There was nothing we could have done to ‘prevent’ this and the cause for this abnormality is not known.
Sam’s life changed our family forever. There will always be a ‘before we lost Sam’ and an ‘after we lost Sam’. My life is split in two categories. I will never not wish he was here. I will never not mourn the milestones he missed out on. I will never hear the sound of his cry or his sweet little voice saying mama. Talking about my son brings me joy as it acknowledges his existence; I love to talk about what he looked like; that he had his daddy’s eyebrow furrow and my nose. I want everyone to know that he was here and he was alive, that he kicked and moved and had a big personality. He is my son and I will never not acknowledge his life.
Today we are still healing. Pregnancy announcements on facebook are still hard, seeing people walk through pregnancy is hard. I want to ask ‘why me?’ and blame myself for what happened. Maybe I was too active or I ate something wrong. The blame game still comes to me in the black of night as I lay there walking through my pregnancy trying to pinpoint what I did or what I could have done differently… I still cry about Sam; sometimes it’s expected like his due date and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s walking through Ikea and noticing bunk beds and realizing I’ll never get to see my boys share bunk beds. Stillbirth is something I will walk with side-by-side forever, and it’s something I wouldn’t ever wish on anyone.”
-Written By Shady Honaker, Sam’s Mom
After losing Sam, Shady went on to start a nonprofit organization in Sam’s honor called Sam’s Love. Sam’s Love provides remembrance books at no cost to families experiencing stillbirth and pregnancy and infant loss. To read more about Sam’s Love and ways you can help, visit them on Facebook @Sam’sLove.
