November Nicole is my "angel baby". I was a teenager
when this precious angel entered my life and just as quickly left. I know what killed my precious November. It
was a form of cancer. In the early stages of my pregnancy, some of the placenta cells mutated and became malignant.
They formed a tumor instead of a normal placenta, locking my baby inside. As time, and the cancer progressed, it cut
off the supply of blood and oxygen to November, thus starving and suffocating her to death. I did not know anything
was wrong with my pregnancy until November was gone. I was anxiously anticipating hearing her heartbeat and seeing the
first ultrasound. But, things didn't happen like I expected. On my 16th birthday, I began bleeding, which sent
me to the doctor. According to lab results, I was still pregnant. According to a physical exam, I was still pregnant.
But...they found no heartbeat. The doctor tried to relieve my fears by saying that it's not always easily detectable.
But an ultrasound would show them the heartbeat. That wasn't what happened. There was no heartbeat...for that
matter, there was no body...only a head. November was gone. I saw her little head...the eye sockets, the nose
indention, the form of her mouth. But, her life was over. That was the worst day of my life. They thought
they could remove her with a D and C. But, that was unsuccessful. I had to have a cescerian to "deliver" her remains.
In the process, part of my uterus had to be removed as well as the fallopian tube being disconnected. On my front page,
you read about babies being "laid to rest" in paper bags. Well, that was my November...except it wasn't a paper bag.
It was a paper towel. What happened to November after "delivery" is the most heart wrenching thing of all. First,
she was not thought of as a baby, or even a fetus. She became a research project. She was sent to pathology.
Where she was analyzed, disected, viewed under a microscope, and had cell and gene tests run on her. They discovered
two things from their tests. 1. "It" was the remains of a girl. 2. "It" was malignant. When
they finished their tests, they wadded "It" up in a paper towel and tossed it into a biohazardous waste recepticle with the
syringes and test tubes, etc. And sent "It" off to be incenerated with medical garbage.
"It"...that was a word I heard a lot during my hospital stay
on the Maternity floor, a few doors down from the nursery. Day and night, I heard babies crying. I heard parents
in the next room with their babies, I heard bassinets being pushed up and down the hall. I was angry. Here was
all these healthy babies, and I was glad the babies were healthy, but...angry because mine was gone. When doctors or
nurses "discussed" November with me, she was simply reffered to as "It". I heard "It" was dead, "It" was cancer, "It"
was killing me, and on and on and on. But, even though my baby was surrounded by a tumor...the tumor was NOT my baby.
The tumor was an "It", but what was inside that tumor was my baby girl, and she was most definately not an "It".
I got all the comments about "oh you can have more", "it just
wasn't meant to be", "you were too young for a baby", etc. Was I too young? Yes. Did that change how much
my heart broke for that baby? No. I underwent months of chemotherapy after I lost November. But, I did eventually
beat the cancer that stole my daughter's life. I named my daughter too...November became her first name in the hospital,
before I discovered I had been carrying a girl. And after I learned of her sex, I thought of a good girls middle name
to go with November...and thus Nicole emerged. So, my little Angel is November Nicole.
Now, I sew for tiny babies and mom's like me who never get
to hold their precious little one. I would not wish this type of pain and heartbrake on my worst enemy. But, sadly,
this happens. Babies do die, and for some, all they will ever need is one tiny outfit, and tiny blankie. For some,
they are like my November and all I can do is leave their heartbroken mom with a token of love...a "Mother's Tears Hankie"...because
believe me...the tears don't end. Even years later, there are still tears for November Nicole. I will always love
her, and I will always miss her. But, her legacy lives on through my charity work. With every little gown, or
every little hankie, I "Remember November".
To learn more about the cancer that took November's life, click on my angel's snowglobe.