From the moment they learned they were expecting, Kia and Ryan Pidde of Sioux Falls couldn’t wait to welcome their third child to the world.
As the weeks went by and tiny flutters gave way to little kicks, their hopes and dreams for their growing family took shape. They made lists of names, stocked the nursery and prepared their two young daughters, Stella and Georgia, to become big sisters. More than anything, they looked forward to the moment they could finally hold their new baby close.
They never imagined their story of love and anticipation would end in heartbreak. But sadly, it did. They lost their baby boy, Wells, at 28 weeks.
Now, Kia and Ryan are sharing their journey in recognition of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. In doing so, they hope to honor their baby’s memory while raising awareness for a new effort at Sanford Women’s, designed to bring hope and comfort to others facing the pain of infant loss.
August 2021
It’s been four years since the day their lives changed forever, but for Kia and Ryan, the memories remain vivid and painful.
“It was a Saturday. I was 28 weeks pregnant and my husband and I were on a date. At some point, I had this realization that the baby wasn’t moving much. My mom instinct kicked in so we went in to Sanford and the team hooked me up to monitors to see what was going on,” Kia said.
“I just knew something wasn’t right— whether that was my own instinct or I was reading faces of the team around me,” she said. “Soon after we were told the baby didn’t have a heartbeat,” she said.
They were heartbroken.
“It was the most gut-wrenching news you can hear as a parent,” Kia said. “This is something you hear about that happens to other people but you never think it’s going to happen to you.”
What followed, Kia said, was “an immense cloud of pain and darkness, followed by confusion and questions.”
“There was a lot of asking ‘why.’ I was feeling every emotion. I was crying to the point of almost hyperventilating. I just couldn’t believe this was happening,” Kia said.
After giving the couple some time, the team at Sanford explained the different options for moving forward.
“There was no immediate risk, so they gave me the option to deliver the baby that evening or to go home and take some time and make some decisions from there. They were great in that they gave us the chance to make that decision on our own. They had the chaplain come in. They gave us resources. They were very patient and gave us the time we needed to process and cry and pray,” Kia said.
Eventually, they made the decision to go home and connect with Kia’s obstetrician, Dr. Kristin Hermanson.
“I knew Dr. Hermanson was on vacation, but when we got home that night I messaged her through My Sanford Chart to let her know what happened,” Kia said. “I expressed that if there was any way possible, I wanted her to be with me when I delivered this baby.”
“Even though she was on vacation, she reached out to me the next morning. She helped me make arrangements and set an induction time for when she was back. I’m so grateful she was there with me during this.”
Empty Arms
Five days later, Kia and Ryan returned to Birth Place at Sanford USD Medical Center to deliver their baby — who they now knew was a boy.
“We didn’t know the gender of the baby until we learned of the loss,” Kia said. “At that time, we looked in My Sanford Chart and learned he was a boy. That was another layer of grief. This was my husband’s son he wasn’t going to be able to bring home.”
As they made their way to their room, Kia struggled to balance her emotions.
“To some extent it felt like the same delivery experience I had with my two daughters — in terms of getting hooked up to monitors and equipment. But the emotional part was so different,” Kia said. “I knew I had to go through everything physically to deliver this baby —the contractions, the pain and all things that go along with labor. And I also knew I was going to go home without a baby. It felt so unfair.”
During the experience, Kia felt grateful for the Sanford team.
“
They [the Sanford team] were wonderful and I felt like I had the best care. They were so gentle and kind and trying to do whatever they could to make us comfortable, which wasn’t easy considering what we were going through.
After some time, Kia delivered Wells Theodore Pidde.
“He weighed just under 3 pounds. He looked like a normal baby. It ended up that the cord was wrapped several times around his neck,” she said.
“That told me what happened. But I still had the questions of ‘why.’ I just couldn’t comprehend it. I had all these questions for God in that moment. It just didn’t make sense.”
After the delivery, “we were told we could stay with him for as long as we wanted,” Kia said. “But we were also told that over time, changes would happen to his body. That was good to know because I could’ve stayed with him forever.”
Over the next day, Kia and Ryan spent precious time with Wells.
“It was important for us to have our girls come up and meet him and to capture as many memories as we could with him. We took photos. We had both sets of grandparents come up. Everyone got to hold him and snuggle him. We had our priest come up and give a blessing over him and all of us. I’m grateful because those are things we have to hold onto now,” Kia said.
Eventually, Kia and Ryan knew it was time to say goodbye.
And their broken hearts broke all over again.
“
You think hearing your baby doesn’t have a heartbeat at 28 weeks is the worst thing you could possibly experience. Then you have to give your baby away and leave the hospital without him. It was so difficult.
As they prepared to return home, “Sanford offered us all these resources — connections to support groups and memory items. I think that’s great and I think there’s a place for that, but it’s not a one size fits all,” she said. “For us, we were leaving the hospital without our baby and we just weren’t ready for all of that. I don’t know what the answer is. But that’s part of what I want to help with at some point. How do you offer resources to people, but at the right time?”
After they returned home, the heartbreak worsened as Kia’s body responded to the delivery and as she navigated follow-up care.
“My milk came in. I had to visit my OB doctor for follow-up care and had to see a waiting room filled with pregnant women, new moms and baby carriers. Just walking back into that was so hard,” she said. “I just wonder how we can make this experience more comfortable for women who are going through this — for women who are going through the unthinkable.”
Wells Winks
Since losing Wells, Kia said she and Ryan have found peace and comfort in “signs that show us he’s still with us.”
“We call them ‘Wells Winks,’” Kia said. “They’re things I would never have paid attention to before. But after losing him, I see the world differently.”
Their first “Wells Wink” occurred the day after his funeral.
It was a difficult and deeply painful time, so the family opted to spend the day outdoors and take in some fresh air on the golf course.
“I was teeing off on hole 7, and I looked up and noticed this blue balloon floating across the sky. It just appeared out of nowhere. I still get the chills thinking about it,” Kia said. “That stuck with us. It’s why we release blue balloons on his birthday.”
And it’s why the family works hard to keep his memory alive.
“After any loss, you learn to live life differently. We’ll never move on from him, but we try to move forward with him. We never want him to be forgotten. We talk about him most days. We pray about him. We talk about what he would look like. What he’s doing in heaven. We make a cake and release blue balloons every year on his birthday. We have pictures of him throughout our house.”
Sharing Their Story
In the four years since losing Wells, Kia and Ryan still grieve his loss daily.
“Our priest told us that infant loss is especially difficult because it’s a death of dreams. We didn’t get the chance to make memories with Wells, but we had dreams for him. Those dreams are all we have to hold onto,” she said.
But over time and through prayer, they have gained perspective.
“For whatever reason — for as hard and as heartbreaking as this has been — we know there’s something more we’re supposed to do with this,” Kia said.
“Ryan and I often say that, for reasons we don’t know, God didn’t need us to take care of Wells. He had another plan for us. He needed us to care for others who are going through this — in memory of Wells — as a way to keep his memory alive.”
They hope that by sharing their story, they can help others experiencing pregnancy or infant loss to know they’re not alone. And, Kia said, to know that even in grief, joy can be found.
“That takes time to understand. But I can confidently say that grief and joy can coexist because shortly after we lost Wells, we became pregnant again. Our daughter, Penelope, was born the following June.”
Turning Heartbreak into Healing
In addition to sharing their story, Kia and Ryan are also excited to support the newly announced birthing and bereavement suite, to be located inside the Sanford USD Medical Center.
The suite, made possible entirely through philanthropy, will serve as a peaceful, private space where grieving mothers and their loved ones can find comfort, emotional support, resources and — more than anything — the time they need to say goodbye.
“Anything we can do to help other families while keeping Wells’ memory alive is our goal,” Kia said. “Hopefully we can help create an experience at the hospital that is as comfortable as it can be for families going through this.”
Give for Good. Give for Love.
If you’re inspired by this story and want to support those navigating pregnancy or infant loss, get involved today. 100% of your gift today will support the new birthing and bereavement suite, featuring:
-
- A peaceful, private space where grieving mothers and their loved ones can find comfort, emotional support, resources and the time they need to say goodbye.
- Specialized equipment such as a Cuddle Cot, a small cooling device that slows natural changes so parents can hold their child in an unhurried and dignified way.
- The Comfort Cub, a custom weighted teddy bear designed to provide comfort to grieving mothers experiencing the physical ache of empty arms.