Kirstie’s BRAVE Story

The Story of Rylie

In 2017, my husband and I decided it was the right time to start a family.  After about 18 months without any luck, we sought help from a fertility clinic in Milwaukee.  We tried 3 rounds of IUI without success. In February 2019, my husband unexpectedly lost his dad. His passing was an uncomfortable reminder of how fragile life is. We decided to relax our efforts and take some time to enjoy life and each other.

As though God needed me to get out of the way, I found out that I was pregnant in April 2019.  It was the best feeling in the world.  We found out at 16 weeks that we were having a little girl, and we soon named her Rylie Michele.  We spent the summer making joyful plans.

On Labor Day weekend, at 25 weeks, I started spotting, something I hadn’t experienced at all during my pregnancy.  We were seen in labor and delivery, and everything looked stable.  We went home and I took it easy.  Two days later, I woke up at home in excruciating pain.  As I drove to the hospital I was frightened, but having never been pregnant, it never crossed my mind that I might be in labor.

The on-call physician promptly examined me in labor and delivery.  I could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong. “You’re six centimeters dilated, and your water is broken”, she solemnly explained.  My husband and I were speechless.  Unsure what would happen next and very much unaware of how much trouble Rylie was in.  

After a few more hours of laboring at the hospital, Rylie was born via c-section at 1:20 pm on September 3. 

She weighed 2 lbs 8 oz. 

A few hours later, we met for the first time in the NICU through the window of an isolette, her tiny hand gripping my finger. She was the smallest, most beautiful baby I had ever seen. She was intubated and had tubes everywhere but despite being a 25-week micro-preemie, we were told that she looked good. She was bigger than expected and was breathing with only a little oxygen support. Through the night and the next morning, things remained stable. I visited Rylie early in the morning. She looked fragile, but cozy in her tiny nest. I sat with her and let it sink in that I had a daughter, and that I was a mom.

Around 1:00 pm things took a turn. Rylie had blood in her breathing tube and her labs were not coming back normal. Over the next several hours, she received a blood transfusion. The doctors told us to come to the NICU. When we got there, they quickly explained that her condition had gotten worse. Shortly after arriving bedside, Rylie passed. We held her and kissed her and said goodbye. The sobs that came from my body were sounds that I didn’t even know I could make.

We walked back to my hospital room to find the gentle bereavement indicator already on our door.  With some begging on my part and a lot of coaching from my physician, I was discharged from the hospital.  In less than 2 days, our dream was shattered.

Thinking about the emotional and physical pain that I felt in the days and weeks after Rylie’s death is something that puts a lump in my throat even five years later.  My body ached from the c-section, my milk came in and it took days to make it stop- making my breasts incredibly painful and serving as a physical reminder of everything that was lost.   We had to make phone calls about maternity leave, and medical insurance and make decisions about a memorial service.  We intercepted nursery furniture, shower gifts, social security cards, and birth certificates arriving in the mail.  We chose an urn.  All of this while feeling so incredibly empty and having so many questions.

Why did God allow this to happen?

Could we have done anything different?

Was it my fault?

Did Rylie know we were there?

Did she know how much she was loved?…

What happens next?

What Happened Next

Many days, I felt like I was wearing a backpack full of bricks.  The grief was so heavy I could barely function. But as time moved forward, I began to feel little cracks of light peek through my heart.  I felt God lifting me up and placing a new spirit into my vessel. I started creating flannel receiving blankets to donate to the babies in the NICU. I found myself listening to music that inspired hope and made me less alone.  I connected with other loss moms who could offer validation and a listening ear.  I spent time in nature taking walks and working in my yard. I read books about navigating grief and practiced meditation. I took time for self-care pampering myself with a manicure, acupuncture, or the occasional Chinese take-out. I journaled my feelings and spent a lot of time in conversation with God about what His plan was for me.

One of the most crucial pieces of my recovery journey was being connected with a counselor who specialized in grief and loss.  Having a safe space to talk about my feelings, challenges, and questions with someone who could validate me made a huge difference in my healing. 

Seeing a counselor also helped me navigate the stress that grief had put on my marriage, reminding me that I wasn’t the only one grieving in my home. I learned strategies for my husband and me to communicate more meaningfully, while we grieved differently. 

My husband and I are lucky enough to be surrounded by an amazing army of family and friends.  I do not believe we could have made it out of the darkness without the love and support of the people around us.  They cried with us, prayed for us, offered us an incredible amount of grace, and cheered us on every step of our journey to creating a family.

What we did not know in 2019 was that our army’s job was just beginning. They would be called upon again in 2022 when I gave birth to our son, Jensen at 24 weeks and 5 days under eerily similar circumstances as his sister.

When Jensen was born, we felt our entire network of family and friends come together again to pray for our little family.  We all shared the same silent fear but clung to the hope that Jensen would pull through.  For five months, while Jensen took his time growing in the NICU, meals filled our fridge, people checked in daily to see how we were doing, our driveway was shoveled in the winter months, and baby items that we needed but hadn’t shopped for yet showed up at our door.  We had help wherever we needed it.  I often joke and call Jensen the “People’s Prince” because I truly believe he has the biggest and best fan club of any child I know.  He had prayer groups all over the country praying for him. His photo is on work desks from Wisconsin to Arkansas, from Virginia to Arizona. The day he came home from the hospital was a victory for everyone.

I am told that the medical reason for the early labor with both of my children is most likely due to placental abruptions.  Some women are simply more susceptible to this pregnancy complication. There is no way to predict it and there is nothing that can concretely be done to prevent it.

Today my husband and I are enjoying life as a family of three. 

I find that I am thankful even in the stressful moments with my son.  In the sleep deprivation, the extra trips to the doctor, and the constant state of baby clutter in the house. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to have this experience.  To have looked at him so tiny in a NICU isolette, knowing now exactly what we had to lose, makes me so happy to have him here with us thriving.

The grief of losing Rylie rewired me. I am more empathetic and compassionate, a better listener, and a louder cheerleader.  It has made me a better mom, and not afraid to listen to my gut and advocate for my son.  As the seasons of my grief continue to change, the ways that I honor and remember Rylie change too. I am constantly reminding myself that that is okay too! That there is no expectation or timeline. I will continue to honor the waves of grief as they continue to sneak up on me through the years and I will do it willingly and deliberately.

My Encouragement 

If you are walking this path, know that you are not alone.  Be patient with yourself as you navigate this sad time.  Know that time is your friend and remember each day is full of new opportunities to see and feel God’s love.

• I encourage you to give yourself the permission to be sentimental, to share your experience, and to say your child’s name as often as you’d like without fear of being judged or shamed. 

• I encourage you to be deliberate when you choose to deep dive into your grief, being respectful of your time and energy.

• I encourage you to communicate openly and often with your army. Be straightforward about what support you need and your feelings.

• I encourage you to give grace to the people around you.  There will be times when people stick their foot in their mouth and say the wrong thing, or forget whose company they are in. Know that it is not deliberate.

• I encourage you to remember that grief comes in waves and has no timeline. When waves hit you out of nowhere, move with them.  Do not resist your memories and feelings.

Most importantly, I encourage you to seek joy.  Joy and grief can be held in the same hand.  Make it your responsibility to notice God in the cracks of life and allow joy into your life.

“I am BRAVE because, through my grief,  I have never given up on embracing joy and chasing dreams.” — Kirstie

Wishing you peace as you continue to build a relationship with your child and navigate your journey in grief.

- Kirstie, Rylie’s Mom