Kathlyn

How's does one really put this into words; The despair, disappointment, tears, pain and graciousness for all the support we received. I will try. I will ramble, incohesively at times, but I will try.

As I sit in the hospital as Beth is asleep, I cannot help but to think I that I should be holding Kathlyn in my arms while I look out the window and watch life go by in Charlotte. Yesterday (07/30/2009) has to rank as the worst day in my life to this point, hoping that I never have any like it again. Today (07/31/2009) was supposed to be one of the most joyous days a person could have. It was supposed to be Kathlyn Joy Davis' birthday. The day she came into the world. Instead it is the second day we grieve her. She instead came into to the world a day earlier already having left it.

Last night I spent looking out the window without much thought. Staring into the night bewildered, exhausted and numb. Except for the migraine that kept reminding me I was indeed alive, awake and this is real. The face of a beautiful baby girl keep staring back at me in my mind as I watched a brother in blue pull up to the ER entrance under my window. He or she no doubt was here to gather information for another report. Shooting, stabbing, car accident. Last night I didn't think about why the car was here, I just thought how nice it wold be to talk to my friends/ brothers who I lay my life on the line with. So I picked up my phone and in modern fashion sent a text to one of my friends who was awake and at work (it was 2 am after all). I told him we would love to see them. They did not disappoint. Coming in force the next day. We always come in force in the fraternity. I find it ironic that two days after I sent an e-mail to the department asking for help for a fallen Officer in Jersey City, Sergeant Crooks is sending one out asking for prayers for me and Beth.

So I sit here tonight staring out into the abyss of modern city lights and finding I have a lot more thoughts than last night. My tears were few today. My heart is broken, but I am finding I am able to function again. I had a few episodes. A 3D ultrasound was on the table that was taken about a month ago. It was her face. I did not know until I saw her in person how accurate those things really are. When I put the ultrasound away I opened her memory box and saw the small hand prints and footprints. I had to avoid it after that or risk the migraine returning.

Yesterday I was shaking and weak. I could barely find the energy to walk or say much. Beth was in pain and physically unable to move due to the c-section and I could offer little help. She was amazingly strong emotionally though. Perhaps she saw how devastated I was and knew she had to be strong for me. Perhaps it was just shock. Whatever the reason it helped me to grieve freely knowing she was maintaining as well as she was. Not to say there was no grief and no tears. She was heartbroken and despondent but not until today, when I had gained some strength, did I ever heard her sob deeply. Is God at hand there helping us help each other? I will find out someday.

I have been utterly amazed at the quality of people we have chosen to surround ourselves with, or that have been placed in our lives (There's the God possibility again). I agree with Beth in the thinking that God did not plan this to happen. That being said, one of our pastors (wise beyond his years, and mine for that matter) said, "God has a plan for this." If that is so, then the support we have received from the start has been that plan. I do not think I would be here writing this entry, in what is now more of an online diary than a blog, if we had not been surrounded by so many people from our church, or from the thin blue line. Of course, our family too, which includes one friend in particular who though not blood related is nothing less than family. He made the calls that were impossible for me to make. I will add too that the doctors in the OBGYN practice are made of gold. The facility staff at CMC University have been empathetic and dutiful. All these things have helped us cope to this point. Enough so that I can gather my thoughts to write.

I am not fooling myself and thinking that this is the end. There will be tears to come. There will be dark days and darker nights. There is a nursery at home with her name on the wall. There is a funeral to plan and attend. All during the week I was supposed to be getting to know her. All I can ask is that people continue to drop in. Company, no matter how awkward it feels, while we mourn has been the comfort we need.

My mind still cannot fathom how on Tuesday she looked very healthy and strong on the monitor. and less than two days latter I receive the worst call of my life. To let the reader into my life even farther than I have, I will detail that moment.

Thursday 7/30/2009 was supposed to be my last day of work before I took a month off for paternity leave. I had court at 1:30 pm and had adjusted my hours so I could be home at midnight and get some sleep before leaving to be at the hospital at 6am for the c-section. Kathlyn was stubbornly breech. I had not slept well the night before, as has been the story for at least two weeks. I have been stressed, nervous, and excited all in one. This is not a formula for restful sleep. At approximately 11:30 am my phone rang. I was dazed and thought I was late for court. I hear Beth's voice. She tells me in a somber but extremely calm voice, "There's no heartbeat." I was confused. I did not even know where she was. She explained she was at the doctor and they couldn't find a heartbeat for Kathlyn. I knew was I was awake, but I still wasn't sure that I wasn't in the middle of a waking nightmare. Beth told me she needed me to come to the doctor right away and I did. That started the worst day of my life. I woke up to my daughter being dead.

How she could go from being strong on Tuesday to this is unfathomable. The worst thing, this was the preoperative appointment. ONE day before we were supposed to be parents for the first time. I did get to see my daughter but but never alive. I did get to hold my daughter, but only as she turned cold. The first time I saw her was in the operating room. I could see how perfect and beautiful she was even from several feet away. I broke into tears and whispered to Beth, "She is beautiful." I cried so much my mask was soaked. The nurse behind me was holding back her own tears. We held her and caressed her face. We held her more in the post operating room and were allowed to hold her in our room until we were ready to let her go.

She has my toes, I noticed as we had pictures taken with her. It is a bit morbid to the outsider but we knew we had to have some. She has my ears. She has Beth's dark hair. Long fingers like daddy and a beautiful round face and cheeks like mommy. We didn't have the strength to open her eyes and find out the color. The nurse did this for us after we said our final goodbyes. "They are bright blue" she said. She has my eyes. Beth said she hoped she had blue eyes and dark hair.

I broke down an sobbed, shaking violently during the photos. We had seen one of our pastors earlier that day and now had another pastor and his wife with us. They are our friends as well. Part of what started as a small bible study group and has morphed into a group of friends. That plan....to help us through. Travis is the one that said that. He is the one that was there. He is a decade younger than me and makes me feel immature sometimes. People with his wisdom are rare enough, even more so at his age. Yes, we joke around and act like silly men at times. But when he speaks from his heart, you had better hold on.

So I sit here at 3:55 am lamenting why I do not have my daughter. Wishing I could lay in bed with my wife. Hospital beds aren't made for two people, especially my size. She is in pain from the surgery anyway and hugging her is difficult. I wish I had my Dogs here. It was the author of Marley and Me, who eerily went through a similar loss, that said that it is easy to love dogs; all you have to do is give them your heart and they will give you theirs. I know that I have not said it verbatim but that was the message he gave. They are the best thing for sad moments for me. I do not like to talk, I just want a hug. Dogs are perfect for that. I will see them soon. They will also be part of the plan.

I have lost a child. I have learned the pain that too many parents feel. I will heal. Beth will heal. I am sure we will try again. I am sure our anxiety during that time will be unfathomable right now. I am also sure that there will be people standing by our side. Something I wasn't as sure of before.

Katie I love you. Cops don't cry, but I cry for you.