The White Pumpkin Project

Before I dive into Sidney’s story and our life with her, I want to Thank my husband, Bryan. Babe, you are the love of my life and are the strongest person I know. When we lost Sidney, you stood by my side every second, being the rock I so desperately needed. Thank You for holding my hand as we talked to doctors, for working as a team to make the absolute hardest decisions, for whispering words of love and encouragement over and over and wiping my tears away at 3 a.m. when my mind screamed in the silence of the morning. Thank You for being the most patient person during my physical healing, when just standing up made me gasp in pain. You were there, and still are there, when our heartbreak becomes too much and the dam cracks open. You have told me you just followed my lead but babe, you are the one who gave me the strength to handle everything we did, the way we did. We are a team, a very brave team. In this soul crushing time in our lives, you did and still do everything right. Please know how important you are and how grateful I am for you. You are my safe space. I know your entire world changed as well on that day in June, you lost our bay too. I am so sorry you had to bear such heavy burdens alone as I could not be as stoic as you. There were often times you had to be the strength for both of us, while also in the midst of your own heartbreak. You were not granted the time to fully process our loss in those first few weeks because, as the incredible man you are, you saw it as your responsibility to take care of me and my needs first. Fathers of baby loss are often overlooked, much of the focus is on the mother, but babe you don’t have to be strong anymore. You give me the strength, love, bravery and a reason to get through each day. You fill our home with love, laughter, support and bravery. You are stronger than you have ever given yourself credit for. I promise to be your strength when you fall or need your own moments to just feel what you have lost too. I got you now and forever, Sidney’s dad ❤

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Sidney was an absolutely wonderful surprise as Bryan, my boyfriend at the time (husband now) and I weren’t consciously trying for a baby. She came bursting into our universe! I found out I was pregnant, at just 4 weeks along, and the test was just for “funsies.” My period was not late, I had no symptoms, but something told me to take the test. Seeing those two lines shine so brightly was a shock! So much so I went out and took 4 more tests to be sure. Even though there was that “oh wow, oh my gosh” moment, there was never any fear or nerves. When my husband came home from work, I anxiously waited to tell him… by waited I mean like two minutes. His face lit up and he hugged me, such pure and innocent joy radiated from us.  Looking back now, I am glad for this. We didn’t experience any negative emotion in this surprise pregnancy and those memories are ones I hold closely; they bring me comfort amongst the pain. 

For 35.6 weeks this pregnancy was blissfully uneventful. Her anatomy scan was perfect. Every single week she was measuring exactly as she should be. If she was 15 weeks she was measuring 15 weeks. Our little baby was growing as any expectant parents would hope. I passed the gestational diabetes test with flying colors. Heartbeat strong, passed all genetic testing and my blood work was good. Truly, a textbook pregnancy. We secretly did a mini-maternity shoot, an event we were not really sure we wanted, and surprised our loved ones with it later on. Now, even though I cannot hang the photos yet or look at them, I am grateful we did. I owe that to one of my best friend’s, she was the one who finally got through to me (many others tried as well) and we are both glad she did. One day, when we are ready, we will hang these photos as a reminder of how happy we were in that moment. We did lose Sidney but we did not lose these memories with her.

On June 1 my family/friends threw us a baby shower, June 11 I had my 34 week appointment, June 15 I turned 31, June 18 I proudly sent a photo on Snapchat “One month to go <3″… June 19 Sidney was gone. A month full of happiness, excitement, giddy anticipation of meeting our baby girl, shattered to the core in an instant. This one day is a blur but also so dang clear at the same time. I woke up and tried to get Sidney to move, as she normally did in the morning. Nothing. My thoughts were “Well, sometimes she wakes up in the car.” So, I waited. Nothing. As I sat at my work desk I thought “Ah! I know she will definitely kick now I just ate an apple. She loves apples.” Nothing. At this point I think my maternal instincts started to jolt and I messaged my sister-in-law (thankfully I work with her… to this day there are no words for how grateful I am she was there) to take me to the hospital as I had not felt the baby kick since going to bed the night prior. 

I texted my husband a normal, non-panicked text letting him know to meet us at the hospital as I was getting checked out. I wasn’t worried, I thought maybe she was getting ready for birth. She may have something going on but hey it will be fine, they will just take her out and with all the medical technology she will be fine…I now ache to be that naive and innocent. As I am about to walk to the nurse room, my husband enters the hospital. We both often say how glad (not glad but there really are no right words when it comes to this trauma) he got there in time. I sat in the first chair where they used just a round doppler to find the heartbeat…. we hear no sounds. She keeps moving it around… silence. At this point, my head knew what was going on but my heart had yet to reach that conclusion. The nurse tells me to move to the bed, “Let me get the doctor” she says… that is never a good sign. The on-call doctor is one of the many I saw at my OBGYN, I am glad to see a familiar face. She rolls over the ultrasound machine, starts moving it on my belly and her face is stone. She waits what feels like 30 minutes but really was probably 2. 

“Unfortunately, I do not see a heartbeat.” My heart had finally caught up to what my mind already knew, our beautiful, magical baby had passed away. I cannot remember my exact words, but I think I mentioned “How is this possible? I felt her last night, I heard her heartbeat just one week ago, wh-what? This doesn’t make sense.” Then the damn broke and I cried and wailed the sound of a heart truly shattering. My husband was frozen in place, through my waterfall of tears I saw him. A statue unable to fathom we lost our baby or even able to process what we were just told. He would later tell me he felt he mentally left for a while; his body was here but he felt so far. I could see that, in the moment, he needed to check out to survive the awful wave of realty headed straight towards us. My sister-in-law unfortunately had front row seat to our world falling apart, she jumped into action and took care of everything. And I mean everything (what she had to do is her story to share). We will forever be Thankful she was there; we owe her more than anyone knows. Yet we are so very sorry she had to witness this moment.

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**I wrote the above five paragraphs once and never went back to re-read… It lives inside my mind, on a loop most days, so I don’t need to see it written out. Please disregard any grammatical errors. <3**

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I cannot remember how we got from the initial room into the labor and delivery room, time really lost all meaning on that day. I also think my mind is trying to protect me by keeping some memories locked away until I can handle them. I am okay with that honestly. One thing I do remember is the moment I found out Sidney’s heart stopped beating; I could not touch my stomach. The bump I felt so utterly attached to now felt strange to touch. I knew her physical form was in there, but her spirit no longer was. I have read something online recently that said, “Nothing could prepare me for the realization that my body was being used as my baby’s coffin” and this, sadly, explains why I could no longer lay my hands there. It is the utterly tragic truth of having a stillborn.

The number of decisions you have to make following the news your baby is stillborn is overwhelming and they all come you at once. Though, I don’t think overwhelming is even strong enough to describe the feeling of utter ” We don’t know what to do.” No one prepares you for a loss like this, no one should ever have to prepare for a loss of this magnitude. Thankfully, our doctor and nurses were so very patient with us. They gave us the space and time we needed to loosely wrap our minds around our new reality. We do not regret one single decision we made on June 19. We did everything right for us and for our daughter. The biggest decision at that point was, do you want to induce or have a C-section? Induction is recommended BUT after hours or even days of labor you may end up getting a C-section. If you do a C-section, it’s a major surgery that has its very own set of risks. Natural labor gives you a higher chance of having natural labor again in the future, while a C-section is a longer physical recovery time on externally and internally. The list goes on and on with this decision. When you go into labor you may be faced with the same question, natural or C-section but when you are asked this knowing your baby is stillborn it carries a much heavier burden. Truly, there is no right choice because you know the outcome already… a silent delivery. We opted for a C-section. There was a lot of talking that went into that decision. Ultimately, we could not put ourselves through more emotional trauma of natural birth knowing there would be no “bundle of joy” at the end of it all. When you go into labor you have a reason to push, to go through all that pain, all that trauma, because you are filled excitement for the future with your child. We lost all that. Physical scars heal, I am not sure those emotional scars would have. 

I personally don’t remember too much of the C-section procedure, the drugs definitely kicked in. I do know Bryan was speaking to me to keep me awake, I did NOT want to fall asleep. What we spoke about, I have no clue. Bryan remembers those moments but that is his story to share, if he chooses to do so. The one thing, and the most important thing, I vividly remember is when the nurse told us “You daughter is out. She is beautiful.” Sidney Hu born sleeping June 19, 2024. The nurse introduced us to our daughter.  Bryan holding her next to me as one of the nurses took our first family photo in that operating room, another moment I actually am able to remember. She really is so dang cute. From the nose down, she looks like my oldest niece so much. To this day when we look at my niece, we still see Sidney and it really does make us smile. We have a few family photos in the operating room, because no matter the outcome, we had become a family of 3 in this moment. And that deserves to be memorialized.

After delivery, we spent a few hours alone with Sidney. We opted out for allowing our families/friends to meet her in person. We needed this time for our little family, we needed the memories with her to be of just the three of us. Thankfully, they all respected our decision. Our absolutely amazing nurse took photos of us, and quietly did what she needed while we had our moments with our girl. We often say how we owe this wonderful woman so much; her empathy, care and comfort got us through that first day (our night nurse was also incredible, such kindness from strangers). The recovery room photos are ones we cherish, yet at the same time brings a wave of sadness. I can see the pain and numbness in our eyes, we were so vacant. I never knew you could see heartbreak in someone’s eyes until I looked at these photos. We were in pure survival mode, utter disbelief and those photos capture two broken parents. We had just met our daughter; the one we talked to, watch grow wonderfully, move, kick, get hiccups, the one we planned a happy future with… her future. The one we knew we could not take home. There really is no coming back from that reality.

I have to take this moment to say how incredible our family and close friends are. My parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, Bryan’s mom, sister and cousins (though they were too young to come up) all came to be with us on that day. My two best friends, one with her husband who we are very close with, literally dropped everything. These two women were the only two I actually verbally told the news to, I needed them to hear it from me… the two hardest phone calls I have ever made. Bryan’s one friend cut his trip abroad early to come be there for him once we returned home. I am not sure how we are so blessed with these humans. They sat with us before delivery, in recovery, days after in the hospital, at home and to this day continue to provide more love and support than one could ever imagine. I knew they were all heartbroken for us and themselves but each and every one of them stood tall and strong, and never wavered from our sides. Also, I want to Thank my co-workers, they went above and beyond for us during this time. Honestly, the people I work with are some of the kindest, most selfless and generous people I know. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can ever properly explain how Thankful we are for every single person in our lives who were there and still show up for us to this day. I hope they know in the darkest moments of our lives, they were the ones who smothered us in light. They kept us going, when sometimes we didn’t want to. They are our Earth angels.

I won’t get too detailed in the decisions we had to make following the birth of Sidney… I remember each and every decision we made vividly but am not ready to open that wound. Some still haunt me. If you have ever had to deal with a sudden death of a loved one, just think of all the decisions you had to make for them. Now, apply those decisions being made to a newborn baby. One you had spent 35.6 weeks waiting to meet, planning their future, guessing the color of their eyes, what their voice would sound like… honestly it is worse than you can even imagine. The things as a new parent you prayed you would never have to think of, we were faced with. One thing I will share is we did decide to get tests done, on both Sidney and me, to see if they could figure out a reason for what happened. My husband and I have two different reasons for wanting to do these tests. Again, I will only share mine out of respect for husband, as it is his decision what he wants to share about his feelings, thoughts, reasons, etc… I chose to do these tests to make sure there was nothing we had to worry about for future pregnancies. It is a morbid thought, but I knew in that moment no result would bring our daughter back, her story had been written and there was no erasing it and starting over. But I needed to find out if our future of being Earthside parents was still a reality. Our doctors had prepped us that when it comes to a stillbirth, if there is no physical sign ; a placenta abruption, bleeding, etc…, the results are often inconclusive. Sidney had no physical indicators, and all of my tests can back normal. So, at this point in time we are in the inconclusive stage. It is an extremely double-edged sword; either you find out something was wrong that was not caught or could have been prevented or there is absolutely no reason why we lost her. Either we do have something to pay extra attention to with future pregnancies or there is absolutely nothing extra we need to keep an eye on and kind of kiss it all up to God… again. There is no “good” result, she is an angel either way. My hope is there is no red flags that would affect our desire to have future children. Our future children will be blessed with the absolutely best angel watching over them.

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A side tangent here. One thing I feel the need to point out is I have seen comments online, not directed towards me, along the lines of “How did you not know something was wrong? Didn’t you kick count?” First off, those people who say things like that are the absolute bottom of the barrel human beings and you should never take what they say to heart. Two, in pregnancy it is so hard to know something is wrong, until it happens. If all the scans, blood work, OBGYN appointments are going, your baby is seemingly growing right on track, then you aren’t on high alert. There isn’t any reason to be on alert if you have no knowledge of an issue prior. I was very active in doing kick counts every single day, since the moment I could feel her kick. I had no clue something was wrong until the unimaginable had already happened. You could do everything right, but in one single moment it can change. To any moms of loss, please do not blame yourself or your body. You both did all you could, with the information you were aware of. And never, ever let anyone try to tell you otherwise.

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Having to leave our daughter behind brings the hardest pain of all. We had to drive away from the hospital without our baby. It felt wrong… it felt like we were missing a piece of our family… it felt like a bullet to the heart. We were so close to meeting our daughter, 36 weeks is safe for a baby to be born. This was not what we had planned, of all the things we had prepared for, leaving our baby behind was not on that list. Her car seat sat in my car for weeks…I avoided my car for weeks. I remember one time I had to open it for sunglasses, and my hand hesitated on the handle, shaking. It was such a small thing but carried tons of emotional weight. Almost as bad was coming home to a house filled with her stuff, not yet used but ready for her. I remember waiting in the hallway while Bryan parked the car, barely holding it together because I knew the moment we opened the door it would be tsunami of emotions. And it was. My feet felt like concrete walking around our home plastered with reminders of our loss. More tears than I have cried in the past 31 years of my life, were cried on this day. My chest and heart literally ached. We were smacked in the face with her cloud themed nursery, her bottles ready to be used, diapers, wipes, diaper bag, her coming home outfit, hospital to go bag and worst of all her clothes. It felt like a wave constantly smacking you under, over and over again, not allowing anytime for you to catch your breath. As I am writing this, we still have not touched her clothes. We are strong enough to clean out her nursery, pack away her pacifiers, shoes, sheets and toys. But her clothes still currently hang neatly in her closet, organized by size, and her bins filled with folded and washed onesies. These are the physical symbols of the size she would be at any given time, and we can’t bear to carry the weight of those “what ifs” right now.

We had opted to keep her nursey open and visible to us for a few months or so. In our apartment her room is a den right off the living room, with clear panel doors. We kept those doors open; we went in there often to visit her memory box or just to talk to her. Bryan was such a pillar for this, he wanted us to face this hurdle head on instead of hiding it. It was hard that first few days to see her room but it quickly became a safe, comforting space for us. Thanks for that, babe ❤

Following our return home, the rims of my eyes remained red and puffy for weeks. Sleep was not my friend as I often dreamed of Sindey or I could not sleep at all, there was no in between. Bryan was a constant pillar of support and love. He took on so much during this time, he gave me reasons to smile and laugh. I love him so very much for this. The only time I was able to get some peace from my own mind was when we had visitors, being around people helped me because their love gave me strength. A welcome distraction as I could focus on making sure they were okay, instead of us. They reminded me, simply by just being there, that though I became a mom to an angel baby there was still things to live for. Things and people worth the fight to keep going. I also love to talk about Sidney, though I did not meet her the way we wanted, I know my daughter. Any chance I get to talk about her, trust me I will. So, having people around allowed me to do that. Please always feel free to ask about her, I invite it.❤

The wake and funeral I do remember, I wore a black lace dress, hair back in a bun and black tiny heels. But my emotions were completely turned off. I had to do that in order to make it through, it really was the only way. We stood tall and strong, side by side, surrounded by our loved ones. We could hear their sniffles but neither of us dare to look at anyone. We were in pure survival mode, and I think that is okay. When you are in the depths of such heartbreak, you do whatever you have to in order to make it second by second. You cling to any sort of life support you can, and for me it was it was having the emotion switch turned off. There is no right or wrong way. For anyone grieving a baby, please remember no one will judge you for how you choose to make it through these moments. I have since allowed my emotions to be felt, all emotions have been turned back on almost immediately after her funeral. I must admit I am really bad at expressing emotions in a group of people. One on one, I have my people I consider my safe space, so I open up to them. But in a crowd? Nope, I can’t do it. Never have and probably never will. I knew all eyes were on us and it was a very uncomfortable feeling. Bryan is the only one who knows it all, who has seen it all. He is Sidney’s dad and there is no one else who truly knows the depths of these emotions more than him. My husband is Chinese, so her services included beautiful traditions. Each and every one had a deep meaning that helped us know our baby would be okay up there. Overall, it was a beautiful service for a beautiful girl, surrounded with love and peace. Everything she deserves.

We visit her often, leave her gifts from places we have been, and our loved ones bring her beautiful flowers and pin wheels (they have to be fake, the deer in the area have a feast if they are real). She rests in the children section, among other babies and children. This brings us so much comfort to know she is surrounded by other little ones, and we often refer to the ones next to her as her friends. Knowing our daughter, if she is anything like us, she is so nosy and knows all the stories of each child in the area. Good job, baby girl ❤

As I am editing the finishing touches on this, it has been four months since Sidney entered this world and we have done our best to move in a positive direction, while grieving. In July, Sidney’s due date month, we got legally married. We wanted to turn a month that went from happiness to despair back into a happy memory. The month she was due is the month we legally became a family: Bryan, Megan and Sidney Hu. In July, we will now celebrate what we gained instead of what could have been. The grief is with us every single moment of everyday and we take it along for the ride. We learned how strong we are we but more importantly how brave we are. We are brave for getting up each and every day, going to work, being around people and talking about our daughter in a world desperately trying to shut us up about our loss. We are strong because we had to be but we are brave because we chose to keep living, despite excruciating pain. One thing I truly believe saved me from completely crumbling, minus my husband and all my loved ones, is the fact I never blamed myself for what happened. I know for almost 9 months I did everything right to keep our daughter safe and healthy. There is not one thing I did that I would change, not one thing. This sense of peace in that part of the journey has allowed me to truly move with this grief in a direction where I can survive and live with it.

We had to learn, in the worst way possible, life has to continue, and the world does keep spinning despite this piercing pain inside. Time has become such a weird concept; it is moving slow yet speeding at the same time. We feel like we have lived years in just four months. We have to learn tools to navigate this new reality, how to live with pieces of our hearts missing. We could have hidden away, crumbled, let the shattered pieces of us take over. Let me tell you, it is so easy to go down that path, the darkness is so inviting. I guarantee if we let the grief consume us, it would take barely a gust of wind to knock us down and we would never get up again. But we decided that night on June 19, alone in our room marked with a photo of a fallen flower outside the door, in the silence of despair, we would not go down that path. Light and love would be our North Star, Sidney would be our North Star. Our daughter deserves the best versions of ourselves, and those are the people she will see when she looks down from the stars.

Buttttt there are days I am emotionally exhausted and want to avoid the world. This grief does not get easier, you just learn to live with it. In the first few weeks I was numb but have since thawed out. So, the real, deep, grieving process has only just begun for me. Grief is not linear; it comes in the most abstract of patterns. I learned grief has to be accepted in and you have to ride the awful wave when it hits. In the first few days back to work, I worried if I laughed too much or seemed too peppy people would think my grieving was over (no one does, it is something in my own mind I worried about). I can promise you this, even when I am smiling, laughing or appearing on the outside to be doing good…. I am still a grieving, heartbroken mother. Sidney consumes my mind from the very second I open my eyes, to the second sleeps takes me. The thing is, I learned to have all these polar opposite emotions co-exist together, in one single moment. It is possible to be genuinely happy and utterly heartbroken at the same time. It is possible to be strong on the outside but feel like you could cry buckets, simultaneously. It truly is crazy how, on a daily, my emotions can bounce around that much... it’s exhausting. During October, which is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I posted on my Instagram how if I knew this would be the outcome of our pregnancy, I would still choose this journey. We did become parents on June 19, 2024, and this is a fact I would never wish to take back. We have a daughter, and angel named Sidney who is more magical, special and amazing than anyone knows.

Parents of baby loss often are put into this box, with the lid slammed shut, and taught not to talk about their experience ever again. I do not care if talking about our child makes you uncomfortable. I will not let that be us, let that be Sidney, and I really hope we can help other grieving parents do the same. I was a very glass half full kind of woman before and I do still try my best to view life that way. But it is now fogged by a sense of worry and uncertainty. I did try therapy once, but it wasn’t what worked for me. I find comfort and solace in an online community of other loss moms; they know my pain and I know theirs. We talk, share, offer love, support and strength in such an open and judgment free space. I have really connected with the wife of someone I went to high school with, a fellow loss mom, and she will never know how grateful I am for her and her support. I have learned the best way to cope a baby loss is however the heck you want. There is no right or wrong way, just your way.

Baby loss PTSD is very real. I have less control over my emotions and sometimes react to things completely differently than I would have prior to Sidney. I will see a pregnant woman and worry for them, pray for them that their journey ends differently. When speaking about future pregnancies (please help us in sending all those positive vibes into the universe) we talk vastly different than we did with Sid. Things we will or won’t be doing. We are aware this is 100% a trauma response, a defense mechanism, but for right now that is okay to feel this way. Core parts of my husband and I have changed, we lost parts of ourselves we can never get back. We lost our innocence about being pregnant and having a family. We no longer see it as this fairytale experience as we know that evil lurks behind the door at any given moment. When you suffer a pregnancy loss so close to the end of the pregnancy, you will still have to deal with postpartum. My body had yet to be told our baby was an angel, so my breasts hurt as they prepped for milk. My hormones were trying to regulate back to normal. It is so hard to grieve while dealing with the hormone drop, sometimes I couldn’t tell if my tears were of grief or that drop. Honestly, it was probably a mix of both, which is an emotional rollercoaster I would not wish upon my worst enemy. The world is full of so many triggers, my gosh you can’t escape them. But my husband and I really pushed ourselves to handle triggers and not ignore them. We deal better with triggers when we face them head on, mourn what we lost, what Sidney lost, and feel it. I felt, and still feel, each trigger so deep, but that’s okay. I would rather feel each and every one, than nothing at all. We grieve so hard because we love so hard. And Sidney has our love forever and always.

❤ To our daughter, Sidney, we hope you are proud of mommy and daddy for doing our best. The White Pumpkin Project is all for you. We love you more than any language can explain, and we vow to honor you every day. You are a greatest gift, our hardest loss and our biggest source of bravery. You taught us unconditional love from the moment we heard your heartbeat. You are the absolute best of both of us, the physical, magical symbol of our love. I hope you hear us talking to you, we do it a lot because you are still part of our ever day lives no matter where you are. I’m sorry for the moments you have seen us break, for the days that are hard, you don’t have to stay for those moments if it’s too much for you. Just remember, we cry and hurt because you took pieces of our hearts with you when you left. Those parts are yours forever, in every universe, in every reality. We take your heart charm with us on trips, family functions and other important dates so you can also experience these moments with us. Hope you have been enjoying your adventures, baby. Thank You for all the signs you send us, even the ones daddy thinks I am crazy for thinking is you. Shhhh we can let him think that, but if you wanna send him a big one, that would definitely help mommy’s case 😉 I hope during your time with us on Earth felt nothing but love, warmth, happiness and excitement, and that is all with you among the stars. Say hi to all our loved ones up there, we know you have many people guiding you. To the moon and back, baby girl ❤