Losing Dakari

My story is not one of bravery; its purpose is to educate others. As Christians, we are entitled to grieve like others even though we are portrayed to have the fairy tale life that always has a happy ending. Living life after losing Dakari was not easy. How do you tell yourself daily that you are not a failure? How do you walk as a Christian believing that God did not hear your cry for healing? I had achieved almost everything in my life, only to fail at bringing forth a healthy, living child.

Eleven years ago, Anishka lost her firstborn, Dakari Danson Akia King.

At 8:10 am on February 13, 2009, I was rushed into the operating room for an emergency C-section. Lying there in anticipation, I listened for the cry that all mothers long to hear. In and out of consciousness, for a brief moment at about 8:37am, I saw his face. The tiniest thing he was; 6 months premature, at one pound and 12 ounces. He was rushed into an incubator to be tended to by nurses awaiting his arrival. Unlike the happy parents that celebrated the life of a healthy child, I celebrated the precious life that would leave us all fighting for survival.

I was determined every day for almost two weeks as I struggled along with my husband Danny to the Intensive Care Unit to deliver breast milk, diapers and clothing for our newborn. I did not heed the warnings about how overexertion could break the stitches from my C-section. I persisted through the pain and willed myself to walk the sloping hill of the hospital though I saw blood on my bandages.

Silently, I thanked God for my blessings and the strength every day to make it through this experience even though the pain of having a sick child was unbearable

My husband and I shared each moment together with Dakari, watching his little body fight jaundice which impacts most premature babies. We watched the thrusts of his stomach as the oxygen pumping through tall green tanks assisted him with his breathing. We waited for clearance to take him home as pediatricians and medical students came in to observe the rare case visiting the hospital. Silently, I thanked God for my blessings and the strength every day to make it through this experience even though the pain of having a sick child was unbearable. To me he looked normal. We held him as if he was a perfect gift we had been given. We looked upon him knowing that if things took a turn for the worse we had been given the opportunity to share his precious life. As tiny as his hands were, he latched on to his father’s finger when Danny touched him. I want to remember him as the bundle of joy he was even though we never took him home with us.

NEWLYWEDS: Anishka and Danny as newlyweds in August 2008

SINGLE UMBILICAL ARTERY

It was as if Dakari was given a death sentence long before he was born. For my husband and I, being newlyweds in August 2008, expecting a baby was a life’s dream! We wanted to take every possible precaution to ensure that we had the safest pregnancy and delivery. My doctor gave us What to Expect When You're Expecting and other literature to help us on our journey to parenthood. We were elated. We scheduled upcoming prenatal visits and were on our way to ensuring that all necessary preparations for delivery were made. We left the doctor’s office with the anticipation of welcoming our new bundle in the months ahead.

However, a safe pregnancy was the last thing to happen for us. Soon, everything made me feel nauseous. Every scent became unbearable. I lost sleep at night. I was unable to sustain food and water. Morning and evening, I hung over the toilet vomiting everything that I’d consumed. I told Danny that something did not feel right and he sought every medical and non-traditional method to make my pregnancy comfortable. At nights he would rest on my stomach to have talks with the baby.

My worries for my baby increased as I was going through that first trimester. My stress levels heightened. There were times when I found myself constantly rubbing my stomach to ensure that Dakari was moving within the confines of my womb. I was supposed to be a safe haven in which my baby was being incubated.

My pregnancy took a downward turn in the second trimester. Sitting in the chair at my doctor’s office with my husband after a routine ultrasound, I looked at my doctor’s face and knew instantly that something was wrong.

“Mr and Mrs King, it seems as if we are faced with one of the rarest cases that we have encountered here in this country,” he announced solemnly.

With a blank stare on my face and fists tightly clenched, I found myself silently panicking. I thought, I have done something wrong to endanger my child.

The diagnosis was Single Umbilical Artery (SUA). Only two vessels (one vein and one artery) were in the umbilical cord compared to the three vessels (two arteries and one vein) that would be present in a healthy pregnancy. Dakari was also affected by Intrauterine Growth Restriction (IUGR), a low birth weight condition possibly brought on by me being diagnosed with gestational hypertension. Additionally, insufficient fluid in my amniotic sac required that I increase my water intake and do daily fetal kick counts to detect Dakari’s movements. Immediately, I felt all the color drain from my face. In that moment, my pregnancy status went from normal to high risk, with a definite need to have a C-section. Myriad emotions swept over me. I found myself with tears falling loosely from my eyes. I could feel my husband massaging my back. His quiet “It’s going to be okay” was not assuring, because I had already determined that my body was failing my unborn child.

As if the doctor knew my thoughts, he said, “You have done nothing wrong.”

I did not wish at that time to play the blame game, but I did anyway. Why me? I struggled with this unanswered question as we left the doctor’s office. I got home and sat in the silence of my bedroom and talked to God. I asked Him for strength. I chose not to curse God because I did everything that I believed was right. I waited until I was married to have my child. Danny and I actually wanted a child. We watched single women carelessly giving birth to healthy children and now my first pregnancy was filled with an onslaught of complications. I was angry.

I felt that somehow Danny blamed me for not being able to go through this pregnancy as other mother’s could. I was still vomiting all food and drink. The progression of my hypertension ensued, along with many visits I had to undergo to other pediatric heart surgeons to monitor my unborn child. I couldn’t be as active as I wanted to be while tending to my husband’s needs. He didn’t say that I was not fulfilling my wifely duties, but I felt that I was a failure. I failed my husband. I failed myself. But my primary failure was in knowing that Dakari might not live. If he did survive, he would have risks of kidney failure or other birth effects.

DAKARI: "Who would imagine the fight that this little one endured?"

PASSING

The dreaded call came at night.

“Mr and Mrs King, we think you should come to the hospital,” said the ICU nurse.

We did just that for not one but two nights. The first night, the doctors advised us that Dakari had developed pneumonia. The second night, we got the call that he had passed away. He was gone. Along with him, all of my emotions drained from me. My husband embraced me but neither his tears nor mine fell then.

In silence we drove to the hospital. Zombie-like we entered the room where Dakari lay swaddled in a blanket, in a tiny incubator. Someone told us to sit and asked if I wanted to hold him for the last time. I did. Danny left the room unbeknownst to me. I caressed Dakari’s little hands and feet with everything left in me and that was when the tears poured. I wept. He was actually gone - our firstborn child, Dakari Danson Akia. He lay there in peaceful sleep. Who would imagine the fight that this little one endured?

"Our Little Miracle"

Danny’s strength for both of us at the time always encouraged me. It was made known to me months later that while I sat with Dakari for the last time, Danny slipped silently from the room to tell our family of our son’s passing. I knew that Danny grieved, but he internalized his grief. I lived so much of my life being the strength for others that I couldn’t console him, because I was unable to console myself.

Our life moved on but it did so in unbelievably cold silence. Intimacy was challenging. It was a constant reminder of the death of our child.

Did anyone reach out to extend condolences? Definitely. Everyone assumed that I was okay because death is a normal occurrence in life. I was even told by some people that being young, just 27 years old then, I would be able to have other children. Those simple words were meant as encouragement. However, they came across in the most heartless form even though I knew that it should not have been interpreted that way. I allowed myself to sink deeper into an abyss of emptiness. I could not share my feelings. I could not write about it. I could not do anything.

I almost drowned in the loneliness. I felt like no one was there with me. I had restless nights where I would cry myself to sleep. I cringed at the sight of other mothers and their infants. I didn’t envy the life of others, but my maternal instinct kept longing for the child that I once held. I felt that only I was missing my baby.

COUNTING BLESSINGS

Eventually, I discovered a strength that I did not know existed. It was necessary to forgive myself for allowing thoughts of personal failure to overpower the precious parental memories given to me, even though Dakari’s life was short-lived. I realized that an ability to accept comfort from others would have helped me greatly back then. However, I was of no help to myself or to anyone around me.

Picking up the pieces in my strained marriage required that my husband and I renew communication with each other and really be in tune with God. We expounded our hurts and lived to improve where we both failed. We prayed. There were times when we prayed together and other times when we prayed in our own corners. We relied on the prayers of family during moments when we felt that we could not pray for ourselves. We gave each other time and eventually we became the friends that we were before our son’s passing.

The days moved along, and my life was made stronger because of the death of our child. Dakari taught me that even in desert experiences, we must not only trust God but trust the people that he has placed around us to help bear our burdens. As Christians, we should never believe that we would go through life being untouched by things, situations or people that test our faith in God. As God promises, he will be with us always, even in the trying times.

MOTHER: Anishka and her mother, Pandora King

My difficult moments became a memory when we found out in December 2009 that I was pregnant with our second child. Today, we have a healthy, energetic son who we know did not come to replace our firstborn. He came to remind us daily of the blessings we are given as parents.