It’s not easy to live in the past. Always wishing, always hoping; but when it comes down to it, you just can’t change what’s already happened. Even after the most difficult and tragic experiences, at some point you have to move forward. Life doesn’t stop or slow down to allow for grieving. You just have to learn (over time) to gain perspective and keep on living while you grieve. That’s been the story of my life for the last year:
November 23, 2009. It was 4:00 am and I woke suddenly. In that early morning haze something was nagging me-I couldn’t feel Scotlin moving. At 38 weeks pregnant and having had an ideal, no-complication pregnancy I really had no reason to worry. I’d been contracting for weeks and I was already dilating. This baby was ready to come. The nurses had said that his sleep/wake cycles were changing so he should be sleeping more. Also, he was really cramped in such a little space so he didn’t have much room to move. But still, I couldn’t figure out why I had been wakened so suddenly or what it was that made me realize he wasn’t moving-I had been asleep so why should I have known, right? Still, I woke Evan up and told him. He, sleepily, told me to go drink some water. Still, Scotlin didn’t move. So, I ate some cereal. After 15 minutes I decided to just relax in a warm bath. He ALWAYS moved when I took baths. But this time he didn’t. At 5:00am I finally fell back asleep and once I woke up to get ready for classes I felt sure that my early morning worries were over and that he must have moved while I slept.
Evan and I went about our day going to classes. Every once in a while I’d realize that I hadn’t been paying attention and I was sure he’d moved. A few times I was tempted to call the doctor, but I had an appointment at 3:30 so I decided to wait. Finally, at 1:30, Evan and I were done with classes and I picked him up from school. I told him about my day and that, even though I’d justified it all day, I didn’t think I’d felt the baby move. We decided to make the call. They said to come to the office and they’d check things out. Evan called work and told them he might be late, which they were okay with.
We waited in the lobby for 20 minutes and I started crying thinking about the bad things that might be wrong. Dr. Horsley did my exam and he told me I was dilated to a 3+ and that he wouldn’t be surprised if I went into labor during the week. Before he left he said, “Oh yeah, let’s listen to the heartbeat.” (Something he usually checked very first). I mentioned to him that I didn’t think I’d felt the baby move all day and that was the reason I had come in early. He was surprised and said that nobody had told him and he didn’t even know I was there early. When he couldn’t find the heartbeat I started to cry. He was very reassuring and said, “Everything’s okay, let’s just go do an ultrasound.” He turned on the machine and once he placed the probe on my tummy, the first thing he saw was Scotlin’s heart—it wasn’t beating. Solemnly, he turned to us and simply said, “I’m sorry.” No one breathed. No one spoke. No one blinked. For an eternity, which was really just half a second, my heart stopped and my world came crashing down. Evan was sobbing at my side, and Dr. Horsley said, “This never happens.” Apparently he was wrong, because it happened. He had to go get Dr. Olsen to “confirm” but once Dr. Horsley came back I was in complete physical and emotional shock. My eyes were open but all I saw was black. I was lying on my back and I said, “I’m going to throw up”. Dr. Horsley helped me roll over on my side and after a few seconds Evan was there too and we just cried together. Dr. Horsley, being a very spiritual man and knowing we shared the same religious beliefs started talking about where Scotlin’s spirit was and the important work he must be needed for. He told us that Scotlin was perfect and since we had given him the blessing of a physical body, he didn’t need anything else from this life because he already had it all. Dr. Horsley left us to be alone for a few minutes and we were to just come out when we were ready and his MA would be waiting. While we were alone, I was able to stop crying long enough to call work and tell them why Evan wouldn’t be coming in. Lucky for us, Edd Harris answered. He was one of Evan’s direct supervisors and he and his wife had lost two baby boys so he knew exactly what we were going through. He said he’d take care of everything and not to worry about our shifts until we were ready to call and let them know. The next phone call I made was to Evan’s mom. I didn’t think I would be able to get the words out if I called my own mom and I knew Steph would have the ability to get there fast and to spread the word to all our other family. When she first answered the phone, I couldn’t talk. But once I told her that Scotlin had died, she didn’t believe me. I needed her to call my dad so he could let my family know. After finishing the call we left the room.
The MA apologized and told us that, even though it would be hard, we’d have to walk through the lobby because there was no other way to get upstairs. It was like a walk of shame, but with knives stabbing into my heart. Ten pregnant women, at least, and their little children were in the lobby. With tears streaking down my face, I sobbed as soon as we walked out and I realized what all these women had that I didn’t: a baby with a heartbeat. They didn’t know why I was crying or where I was going, and I’m sure they didn’t/couldn’t have guessed if they thought anything about it at all.
I was admitted on the Labor and Delivery floor and settled into my bed. My nurse was Aubrey Johnson and I will forever be grateful that it was her. When we started talking after my IV fluids were started, I asked her if she liked being an L&D nurse. She had her back to me but when she turned around she was crying and she said, “most days.”
The details of my labor are fuzzy. With the pitocin going to progress my labor, ativan through my IV to keep me calm, my epidural, and the stress and shock of the situation, you could say I was more than a little doped up. My mom and dad came first, (I think) and Julie and Lance. Autumn, Doug, Bobby and Morgan came too. My relief society president, Jessie Hylton called to check on me because we hadn’t talked in awhile. I know she was inspired to call. She asked how I was doing and I started bawling. I told her that I came to the doctor and they told me my baby had died. She hadn’t known why she needed to call me, but I did. She was able to relay the message to our bishop, Scott Wilcock, and he and his wife, Kathy, came to the hospital to be with us. They sat with our family and were a huge comfort to Evan and I.
At 3:03am on November 24, 2009, Scotlin’s little body came into the world. I don’t remember seeing him until after his bath, which Evan helped with. I didn’t even get to hold him first, which I will always regret. He was 6lbs exactly and 20 ½ inches long. He had lots of dark hair and beautiful little lips. A photographer from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep came and took pictures for us. Share Parents came and made molds of his hands and feet. We were able to hold Scotlin for a few hours until they transferred me to the Mother/Baby unit. Candice Livingston and Mollie Johnson were my nurses and they took great care of me. They brought Scotlin back to us and some of our family and friends were able to come back and hold Scotlin. I know it was an important moment for them to be able to hold their nephew and grandson, but it was very important to us as well. There are a small handful of people on this Earth who have seen our son and know that he exists and is real.
Leaving the hospital at 4pm on Tuesday was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I carried a baby for 8 ½ months and I didn’t get to bring him home with me like every other mom. I sobbed the whole way home. When I walked in my front door, I fell to the ground because the heartache was too much to stand. I looked through the kitchen into the spare room and Scotlin’s bassinet was sitting there mocking me. My baby would never lay in it. Friends came and visited and flowers were sent but everything was a blur. On Friday, Evan, Mel, Steph (Evan’s parents) and I went to the mortuary to dress Scotlin. We had gotten a little white outfit for him with matching booties. I had made a quilt, intended for bringing him home from the hospital in, but it would now be used to bury him. After we dressed him I got one last chance to hold him. My heart was already broken so by this point it was just being shattered to pieces with every passing second. I kissed him, talked to him and after Mel placed him in his casket, we left the mortuary.
The funeral was a blur too. I saw everything happen through tear-streaked eyes. At the cemetery, I placed my corsage on his tiny casket and Evan and I clung to each other. The rest is history. The year has passed so fast that I can’t say much about it. I remember a lot of pain, and more tears than should be allotted a person in a lifetime. But there has also been so much love and peace as well. We’ve had a lot of support from family and friends and we will forever be grateful for those that remember Scotlin and his short life on this Earth. Sorry this has been so long and sorry I didn’t post it on his birthday…It’s taken me days to write because I keep stopping to cry. He was buried with his quilt from his mommy so it's like I'm still holding him. We also placed our wedding picture with him so he'll never forget us and we'll always be with him no matter when we go.
So, this post might end up being sad, not because I'm a sad person, but the situation is not the happiest in the world. Now that I've given you a fair warning, I wanted to post pictures of mine and Evan's bike ride to First Dam this last weekend. We have a friend who's sister moved to Provo for the summer and didn't want to cart her bike down there so she's letting me use it for the summer and it's been SO FUN!!! 
