Camille Rayana Olsen weighed 8 pounds and measured a lanky 21 inches. Her fingers and toes were perfectly formed. She had the cutes "button" nose you'll ever see. She had "chipmunk" cheeks common to all babies and rolls of fat around her wrists and thighs to cushion her transition her life outside the womb. She was everything we had ever hoped for, but she was delivered dead...stillborn to use the medical term.
We arrived at the hospital, August 17, 2000. This was the day to induce the delivery of our full term baby. The first sign of trouble came when the nurse who was applying the monitor couldn't find Camille's heartbeat. Thinking it was a defective sensor, she went for a replacement. When the second sensor failed to find her heartbeat, an ultrasound was ordered. The ultrasound confirmed the absence of our daughter’s heartbeat. We sat in stunned disbelief. For a moment we didn't understand. Our doctor arrived and within minutes confirmed that our baby was dead.
Shock is a physical reaction that shields the body from the pain of traumatic injuries. In a kind of disassociated trance, I asked the logical questions - skipping over the "how" and "why" for the moment -- knowing there would be no answer to these just yet. I assumed our daughter would be removed by caesarean section but was shocked to hear that she would be delivered naturally. My first instinct was that this was cruel to subject Sharon to a natural birth, only to deliver a dead baby. After explaining to us that it was the safest route for the mother, the IV's were placed and labor was induced.
Camille was born at 2:40 pm. The nurse and I took her into the adjoining room where we washed and dressed her. Even though our baby was dead, the nurse had such respect for Camille that she patted her bottom dry and powdered her before putting on a diaper. I took Camille back into the birthing room and presented her to her mother. Sharon and I cried together, but spoke few words. In time we invited our family and friends who had come to share our joy, but who were now united in tragedy. My 90- year-old mother, Millie Lawton, was the first to reach out and cradle Camille in her loving arms. This was her first granddaughter. We all took turns cuddling her and kissing Camille and talking to her. Colonels Mervyn and Shirley Morehouse of the Salvation Army had come to the hospital at the first word of tragedy and stayed until Camille was delivered. Their presence was a blessing to us all because they were anchors of calm on that turbulent day. After all had an opportunity to embrace Camille, Col. Morehouse led us in bedside prayer. Following prayer, the hospital staff presented us with an opportunity to allow parts of Camille to live on by asking if we would consider donating Camille's organs so that other critically ill infants might have a chance at life. Sharon and I did not hesitate for a moment. If this was to be the purpose of Camille's brief existence, so be it.
Since Camille's death, we have died a thousand deaths in our heart. We have asked God questions for which there are no answers. Though we asked for an autopsy, our doctor cautioned us not to expect any definitive answer. We know that we are not alone in our grief. We have been supported by friends and family - which is to be expected - but also by members of M.I.S.S. - strangers whose only bond with us is that they shared the same grief at some point in their lives. The hardest part of our grief is the belief that we were somehow responsible for Camille's death. If medical experts can give us no answer, it must be God's retribution is the next assumption. Bad things do happen to good people. Reverend Schuller wrote a book about it. We have been taught throughout our lives that events have causes. But given the complexity of the miracle of human reproduction, what is surprising is that so many babies make it through to term and are delivered pink and screaming for that first meal. Knowing it is not our fault is the first step back from the precipice of insanity that can threaten our very existence. Another important step is acknowledging that Camille is our daughter. She lived inside my heart and Sharon's womb for 40 weeks. She kicked and squirmed, and had a personality.
This has been very hard for me to write. Camille was my first child at age 60...Sharon's first at age 39. She was the joy we had longed for. Down the hallway from my home office is a completely outfitted nursery from which a loud cry should be coming from right now. We miss you so much, Camille...God bless you precious little girl.
Editor's Note: Camille Rayana Olsen died of S.A.D. Syndrome. More than 107 babies every single day are stillborn in the United States. That is more than 39,000 babies every year. Of those, approximately 60% are S.A.D. Syndrome babies, that is, undeterminable cause of death for an apparently healthy, term baby. To find out more, visit our website at www.missfoundation.org This enigma is taking the medical research community by storm. Please help us find the answers!
