The elevator speech

For days and the first couple weeks after Quinn’s arrival, I avoided public places.  I couldn’t smile at anyone or exchange meaningless pleasantries with strangers at the store.  I wanted to avoid babies, pregnant women, happy people, families with multiple children, the list goes on.  Even more, I feared seeing someone I knew – wondering if they knew…knowing I could never say the words…

This, however, has changed and I learned that life has to go on.  I can’t avoid places or people forever, and I am returning to work in 10 days.  In facing the world, I have been forced to come-up with what I call an elevator speech.  It is a shortened version of Quinn’s journey and my grief all wrapped up in a one-minute talk.  How can the 40 weeks of shear joy expecting my second child and the lifetime of grief be bottled up into one elevator speech?  I first said it during a perinatal loss support group.  Next was to neighbors who didn’t know.  Recently it was at a store.

At first it was so hard to say my elevator speech.  I would start crying before the words even left my mouth.  I would weep and just crumble wherever I was.  Now, however, I can get through speaking the words.  I still always cry, but now usually after the person turns the corner and is on their way.

My elevator speech is a more casual and conversational version of this:

My second daughter, Quinn, arrived into this world on 2/16/15, stillborn.  After 40 weeks of a healthy pregnancy, I arrived to the hospital deep in labor, ready to have my baby.  Instead, the doctors could not find her heartbeat and 38 minutes later - the most stressful and chaotic 38 minutes of my life - she was born. Upon birth, the doctors discovered her cord was wrapped around her neck 3 times.  They said as I progressed with labor and delivery, there was not enough slack in the cord to provide adequate oxygen to her.  Quinn was 6 lb 3 oz, 20 inches long, absolutely perfect and beautiful. We spent one glorious day with her before we had to say goodbye to her forever. I love her and miss her so much. 

I’m sad I need to have an elevator speech.  I guess we all have them, just about different topics.