My Little STAR in the Sky - from Daniel's Mother 
Holding Daniel - from Daniel's Father
My Little Star in the Sky
Expecting my first child was such an unbelievably exciting time for me. As all new parents to be, I was filled with such joy that this new little person would be joining our family and the world. Of course I prayed for a healthy baby, never thinking that that would not be the case.
After a very healthy and risk-free pregnancy, our little one was 9 days shy of his due date. On February 6th, I didn’t feel my son move around as much as I usually did. I called my doctor who told us to go to the hospital….better safe than sorry.
In my mind, we were going to be sent home right away, leaving the hospital staff laughing at us for being those over anxious first time parents. Unfortunately, I was admitted that night.
The nurse put the fetal monitor on my stomach and we expected to hear this wonderful thumping heartbeat, as we always did. Our son was a very active little guy who always had a strong heartbeat, so the fact that we heard nothing was a bit alarming. We figured he was just in a weird position. The nurse moved around my stomach for a bit more and FINALLY, we heard a heartbeat. Unbeknownst to us, she zeroed in on my heartbeat so she could go get a doctor.
Within seconds, two doctors from the hospital came in to do a sonogram. Okay, we thought. We’ll see the heartbeat on the monitor.
Again, my baby was always dancing and moving around on every ultrasound we had, until this one. There was no movement at all. It was at this time that my heart began sinking as we asked these two doctors what was going on. “We’re trying to find a heartbeat” was the response we heard. TRYING? What do you mean TRYING? We yelled for our doctor because he would know where to look.
By this point, I was hysterical. Then our doctor finally arrived. He glided the monitor over my stomach, all the while pushing and shaking my stomach trying desperately to wake my son up. I began to realize what was going on. There was no heartbeat. Just like that, every dream and hope I had was gone. The doctor looked at us, shut the machine off and said, “I’m so sorry”. My baby had died.
Everything after that point was a blur. As we were just beginning to try to take this all in, we were then told I had to deliver. Since I was no where near ready to do that, the ordeal of inducing me began. This included everything from various drugs to breaking my water – all the while knowing that once I did deliver, my baby was gone.
We had decided early on in the pregnancy that we wanted to be surprised about the sex of the baby. Our plan was to name our first born after my mother who I lost three years ago. Since our first born would not be able to carry on the name, we decided to choose another. It was then that we asked the nurse to contact our doctor’s office to find out the sex of our baby. Who would have thought that this is how we would find out? It was at that very moment that “the baby” became our son.
After a long 36 hours of labor, I was finally ready to deliver. It was a VERY difficult 45 minute delivery. The only thing that got me through was the need to get him out so he would be comfortable and at peace. I needed to hold him as soon as I could, for as long as I could, all the while dreading that they would eventually have to take him from me.
At 1:35, on February 8, 2007, Daniel Ian Tieger was born. What a gorgeous, perfect baby!! It is an amazing feeling to actually see an exact combination of us. He had my husband’s unmistakable chin with my eyes and nose. Although there is no sure explanation as to why this happened, it seems that the middle of the cord was weak.
They placed Daniel on my stomach right away, and I finally got to hold and gaze at my beautiful son whose life was cut way too short. I could tell you exactly what 8 lbs. 10 oz. feels like. His precious little face, cute feet, and sweet smell will forever be with me. After Jeff and I spent some alone time with him, our whole family came into the room to hold, kiss and bond with this little person.
Three days later, we buried our child. That is something no parent should ever have to do. We went to see him at the chapel. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful – like a sleeping angel. All I wanted to do was pick him up and hold him one more time, realizing that one more time would never be enough. We had a graveside service where everyone was given the opportunity to say who they were in relation to Daniel, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was a beautiful service for my beautiful baby. Such a little baby affected so many people despite the fact that he never even took a breath.
Daniel will always be my first child, my first love and my shining star. Our hope is that we raise funds for research and awareness of this horrible occurrence called stillbirth so no other babies are born sleeping and no other families have to endure such a terrible tragedy. Hopefully we can make a difference so that Daniel and all other angel babies who were taken too soon could be honored and remembered through all the lives that this organization will save.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story and for your desperately needed support.
Sincerely,
Lori Tieger
Co-Founder
Daniel’s STAR
Holding Daniel
I found out I was going to be a father on June 10, 2006. Me…a Dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited from the first minute Lori excitedly screamed and showed me a “Pregnant” on the home pregnancy test, but that deep down, all encompassing, nervous, anxious excitement didn’t come around until Lori’s 7th month. When we reached that point, holding my own baby was so close, I couldn’t believe it. Being an Uncle has given me so much pleasure for as long as I can remember. But to actually hold my own baby…a life that Lori and I created together…was something I finally realized that I had waited my whole life for.
Lori had a great idea. “Let’s create a video journal that we can someday give to the baby.” That is exactly what we did. Every 4 to 6 weeks we spoke to our baby through a camera and described all of the developments since the last recorded entry. Of course we had to see the entire tape from the beginning after each time we recorded something new. We watched Lori’s belly grow. We watched the transformation of the baby’s room. We watched ourselves as parents, telling stories to our baby about life before he/she was here and how his/her journey began before birth. It was a lot of fun!
I turned on the video camera for the last time on the night of February 6th, 2007 as we got ready to go to the hospital. Lori had called the doctor concerned about not feeling the baby move for quite some time. She called despite my attempt to reassure her that everything was all right. The doctor told us to go to the hospital, just to make sure everything was okay. So I recorded us leaving the house thinking we would be those over-anxious first time parents that get sent home 10 minutes after showing up at the hospital.
I made sure we had a bag packed…just in case. I made sure we parked in the lot, not at the meter on the street…just in case. I never, in a million years, thought that “just in case” would turn out the way it did.
I remember every minute of the five days we were in the hospital. I remember the tears rolling down Lori’s face from fear when the nurse could not find the heartbeat. I remember seeing the first motionless sonogram of the entire pregnancy. I remember the moment I realized all hope was gone. I remember looking into Lori’s eyes and feeling helpless because I could do nothing to wake her from this nightmare.
From the beginning we wanted the sex of the baby to be a surprise. We had picked out a girl name and a boy name. Our first born was going to be named after Lori’s mom, but since our first born would not be able to carry on the name we needed another. So we had asked the nurse to find out the sex of the baby by calling the doctors office. Once she came back to tell us we had a son, I broke down. Not because he was a boy, but because now I could identify with my son.
I can now say first hand; a man has a new found respect for his wife after child birth. In this case, after Lori had been laboring for 36 hours, knowing we would not be going home with our baby, I was in awe. Nobody would blame a woman in her situation who would just lie there crying and helpless. But not my wife. She was so focused and determined. She later told me that all she could think of was getting him out so he could be comfortable and at peace. She worked so hard. For one brief moment she looked at me and started to cry. I said “Not now. We’ll have time for that later.” She snapped right back into focus and hardly even stopped to rest. I wanted so badly to change the inevitable outcome. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted her effort to mean something.
After about 45 minutes, the doctor laid our son, Daniel, on Lori’s belly. I was nervous about touching him at first. Lori couldn’t see his face and I just wanted to turn him so she could see, but given his condition and the fear that he would slip from my hands, I could not do it. I don’t know if it was instinct or the reality that our time was limited that finally kicked in, but I picked up that baby for his mother to see.
This was it. I was, for the first time, holding my baby…my son. Something I had waited my whole life for. I was now a Dad. But this was not how it was supposed to be. This was not fair. There I was, holding my son for the first time and it was the single saddest moment of my life. I was sad for me…and for Daniel.
I accompanied Daniel and the nurse to another room where she cleaned him up, weighed and measured him. Eight pounds, ten ounces. Twenty inches. On the way, we passed the nurses’ station. I saw all of the nurses and two expectant fathers watching me push a basinet that was overwhelmingly silent. They were staring as you would while driving past a terrible car accident thinking “I am glad it wasn’t me.” That was my first exposure to how the outside world would react to me and my tragedy.
Once we got back to Lori, our whole family followed shortly after. Everyone had the chance to hold Daniel, hug him and kiss him. This was everyone’s loss. Daniel had played so many roles already. He was a son, grandson, nephew, great nephew, and cousin. At his funeral we each had our opportunity to say good bye.
Just as any parents would do anything for their child, Lori and I have decided to do the only thing we can do for ours. We are going to create the legacy he did not have the chance to create on his own. Out of our pain from this tragedy, we decided the best way to help is to prevent other people from having to endure this pain. Daniel’s STAR will do just that by raising money to fund both research and public awareness programs.
Please help us keep Daniel’s STAR shining brightly. Together, we can make an impact on the number of future stillbirths. Thank you for your support.
Sincerely,
Jeff Tieger
Founder
Daniel’s STAR
© 2008 Daniel's STAR