Our Story

December 5, 2018 was a day that changed my life forever. I was 18 weeks pregnant and had a routine prenatal checkup in the early afternoon. My entire pregnancy had been wonderful. I was feeling baby flutter and flip, and I always looked forward to my checkups. We were so close to finding out the gender, but if you asked me we were having a girl. I could just feel it in my bones, and my husband Andrew felt the same way too. Little did we know I was carrying a precious baby boy! We were so excited to grow our family and finally give our 7 year old son a sibling. Life was so sweet!

A few minutes after my appointment started my Dr. couldn't find the heartbeat with the doppler monitor. This was no big deal. Its happened before. She assured me everything was fine and that she thought she heard it for a split second, so I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. We laughed at how stubborn the baby was and how "she" was already taking after me. I shifted my thoughts and closed my eyes, listening to the music being piped into the room. "O Holy  Night". My absolute favorite Christmas song. "Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel's voices.." That part always gets me.  I was abruptly snapped back to reality when my Dr. called for the ultrasound machine to be turned on as she continued to search using the doppler. A few more minutes ticked by and I started to get worried. I frantically starting texting Andrew telling him to pray for our baby. This was getting real. This was getting scary. I had this sick feeling in my gut and desperately wanted him there with me.  

As I crossed the hall to the ultrasound room my Dr. assured me I wasn't leaving until I knew my baby was ok. Once again I moseyed up on the exam table and rolled the material of my maternity jeans down from around my belly. My Dr. started scanning my belly as I put one arm behind my head to prop myself up so I could see my baby better. The images were on a big flat screen tv, mounted on the wall directly in front of me. I could see everything clearly, and deep down, without wanting to admit it to myself, I also knew what I didn't see. The ultrasound revealed my worst nightmare as I lay there staring at my motionless baby, my eyes glued to his little heart, trying to will it to start beating. A second opinion was requested, and that's when I was told, "I don't see a heartbeat". In shock I asked, "Is my baby dead?" and again I was plainly and coldly told, "I don't see a heartbeat" before that Dr. abruptly left the room.

I couldn't talk. I couldn't move. I couldn't even cry. This wasn't happening. This doesn't happen when you're "safely" in the second trimester, almost halfway through the pregnancy. Andrew had been texting me the entire time for an update, but I couldn't tell him via text. I didn't want to be the one to tell him at all. 

I was left alone in the room to gather my things, then to meet my Dr. in her office. I slowly pulled my maternity jeans back up over my belly and walked down the silent hall to her office and plopped down on her couch. She went over my options for delivering the baby, but honestly everything was a blur. All I could think about was having to tell my husband and 7 year old son, and that's when I lost it. Reality hit me. Hard. My Dr. gently held me as I sobbed and screamed. 

The next thing I knew I was scheduled for an induction at 8 the next morning. I didn't have a clue what to expect. I was so upset and scared. In a frenzy, Andrew and I tried to think of everything we needed to do before the induction. Every type of picture we wanted to take while baby was still in my belly. Every first and last moment. We agreed that the most important thing to do was to hold our baby for as long as possible. We wanted to soak up as much time as we could before saying goodbye. 

Thomas was born on Friday December 7th at 12:50 am. He was perfect! I could stare at him for hours! Every tiny little feature was perfectly formed, and I was in awe of his beauty, but Thomas was extremely fragile. He was handed to me wrapped in the traditional hospital blanket with some sort of plastic bag around him. I learned that was to protect his delicate skin from the blanket, and also as a way to help keep him hydrated. The blanket added so much bulk to him and it looked like I was holding a big baby, but I wasn't. I wanted my pictures and memories to show his true size. 

My nurse told us that Thomas needed to remain hydrated. Andrew (being the amazing dad that he is) set his phone alarm for every 30 minutes so he could "bathe" our baby. He would hold Thomas wrapped in his big blanket and gently pour the saline solution on him while lovingly talking to him. It was beautiful, but it was a mess. The liquid got everywhere. 

After a few hours the next shift of nurses came in.  My new nurse mentioned she had a little "hoodie" for Thomas to wear, then we could take it home as a keepsake. It was something she and her grandmother knitted and had on hand for these situations. That sounded perfect! We barely got his footprint. We weren't able to get a lock of hair since he didn't have any, so the idea of taking something home that he wore was so comforting. She gently dressed Thomas in the beautiful handmade blue hoodie and placed him in my arms... and I smiled... until his bath alarm went off. 

We quickly realized we couldn't give Thomas his bath anymore. The solution would run right through and ruin the yarn. We couldn't change him back to the blanket because he was too fragile, so Andrew and I made the difficult decision to keep him in the hoodie and not bathe him anymore. 

Big mistake.

Having never gone through this before, we didn't realize just how important his baths were. After a couple hours without his bath, our precious son started to decompose in our arms. No parent should ever witness that happening to their child. The trauma I've suffered after watching my son's body breakdown and fall apart is unimaginable. 

A few nights after we were home, Andrew and I were unable to sleep and replaying everything that had just happened. We started brainstorming. We wanted to think of a way to help other parents in that situation so they didn't have to witness their baby decompose like we did. There had to be something we could do. There had to be something we could make to improve on the hoodies (because we loved our hoodie so much and thought it was a perfect keepsake). 

That's when Project 11 was born.

Together (and with the input of 2 important friends) we came up with a crochet Swaddle to dress baby (and also take home as a keepsake). After 7 different attempts we also came up with the most essential item: Thomas Cradles. They sit inside the Swaddle and are made to add stability to baby, as well as keeping baby hydrated. 

Our mission is showing God's love and turning our pain into purpose by providing care packages that help improve the quality of time a grieving parent has with their baby after experiencing a second trimester miscarriage. It is our prayer that the care packages can provide a little comfort during an impossibly difficult time. 

After 11 hours of labor, we had 11 precious hours with Thomas. It only seemed fitting to call this Project 11.