Mira Azalea McEvoy
Born - July 8, 2019 5:32am
Deceased - July 8, 2019 2:32pm

My heart is broken

For 34 days Rachel and I have been at Swedish Hospital trying to give our little baby the best chance we could. The last week I admit I had gotten a little restless just waiting. But today I would gladly go back just to hear her heart on the monitor one more time.

At 2am this morning Rachel complained of contraction pain. Sure enough the 4am check showed 4 cm dilated and at 4:30 we were up 5.5 cm. This baby decided to come today.

We were supposed to get our 33 week ultrasound today. We were supposed to sleep in and wait to talk about the results with the doctor. But then again, nothing about the last 34 days has gone the way I believed it was supposed to.

The C Section came at 5:32am and immediately I knew we were in trouble. They had to knock Rachel all the way out. It was hard to see her out with a tube down her throat, but it was even tougher seeing our baby girl coming out looking like a small version of her pregnant mom. Small limbs, big head, and giant belly. It looked like she had a basketball in there. Her kidneys are so big, but her abdomen was also jammed packed with the urine-like substance that was not exiting her body. 

She wasn't breathing

   Her heart rate dropped to 50

      For 2 minutes they got nothing

They decided to start draining her belly, and fluid was flowing out through 2 tubes so quickly you could visibly watch her stomach flattening. From a basketball to prune belly in 15 seconds. They kept with compressions, and this extra space gave her lungs the chance to open up. She started breathing. Her heart rate climbed to 150. I could tell the 7 NICU doctors were relieved and so was I. They stabilized her a few minutes later and I left with them as they transferred her to the NICU from the OR as Rachel stayed and got sewed up.

I thought that stable meant good, and that the fluid being drained was going to get us somewhere, but for the next few hours it just seemed like 1 bad piece of news after another.

"Heart has been pushed to the right and isn't where it should be."
   "We can hear a heart murmur"
      "Her lungs aren't responding to anything less than 100% oxygen being pumped in."
         "Her lungs have fluid in them."

I was thinking her non-functioning kidneys were going to be a problem but we never even got there. She was so sick from the moment she came out. She fought so hard. But too many of her organs had been badly affected by her hydrops. 

I left Mira at 11:30am to check on Rachel in recovery, but immediately got a call on my cell phone for both of us to come back up asap. This was the end. The doctor started telling us how her heart had stopped pumping and they now were doing all the pumping for her. We could take her off the machinery and hold her for her last few breaths. But then her heart rate started climbing. She stabilized. Her blood pressure went up. She was back. And I thought this was the turning point, the miracle kicking in at the last minute. 

We had 3 more great hours with her. Touching her feet, hands, and head, and feeling her respond with little kicks. She even grabbed my thumb. Rachel got to hold her hand after her own recovery. 
          But then the heart rate started dropping again.
              160, 140, 120, 110, slower this time. But consistent. Blood pressure was going with it.  40, 38, 37, 35, 34, 32. They started adding more drugs to help. Nothing worked. They upped dosages and started pumping and I knew this time she wasn't coming back.


I was going to spoil you Mira. I was going to protect you from any danger you would ever face. I was going to be the best dad you could ever have. I learned from a fantastic one. Rachel and I wanted to sing you songs, and read you stories of smart, powerful women. We wanted to hold you and listen to you cry. Oh what I would have given just to hear you cry once or to know the color of your eyes. 

I don't know why this happened. I believe in a God that loves her so much more than we do. And also I am a father who has had to say good-bye to his 2 daughters. Each more painful than the last. 

I can't imagine loving someone more than I love you Mira. The 9 hours I had with you were heaven and hell. The feelings I felt looking at you as you stabilized were incredible. I could have sat next to you, touching your hand forever. It was heaven.
                                                                     And it was hell. One bad report after another. Watching them press deeply into your chest to revive you. Seeing so many tubes in you. Pacing the hall wondering if another miracle was going to show up.

You will always be our miracle baby. You were less than a 1% chance from the doctor. We were told we could terminate you a month ago because this was the likely outcome. And yet I'm really happy we fought so hard. Rachel was the biggest warrior I have ever seen. She sacrificed her life for Mira the last month. She never touched coffee or alcohol. She ate right and wouldn't even walk 4 blocks away from the hospital in fear that something could go wrong. She fought with everything she had, and so did you. I would keep fighting if I could. There is no price I would not pay. I have never been more understanding of the love that drove Jesus to the cross than I am right now. Oh what I wouldn't do to have you back and healthy.

Mira - You will always be our Miracle, you will always be loved, your parents have never seen anyone so beautiful. And I doubt I ever will.