January 27, 2012: A day I will never forget

Some have heard this story before, but I relive it often.

I was 11 weeks pregnant. Abi had just turned seven and she was so excited about being a big sister.  She was going with me to my prenatal appointment and we were ecstatic; we were going to hear the heart beat by doppler!  Five weeks earlier we had seen our little "yolk sac" and the flickering of a teeny baby heart via vaginal ultrasound.  Abi could not wait.

I hopped up on the table and the nurse went to get the doppler.  A squeeze of the warm jelly on my belly, making polite conversation about my first trimester symptoms and how they had subsided.  A concerned look across the nurse's face.

"I am going to go get our other doppler, it is a little bit better."

A twinge of unexpected pain swept through my body.  The nurse came back and added another squeeze of jelly.  Still nothing.  Now a rush of undeniable pain- my heart was beginning to break.

Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together.

The nurse left and I was then tasked with explaining to Abi what was happening.  We were going to go to another room and have another test done, but what it will more than likely show is that the baby in mommy's tummy is no longer alive.

I was wearing black leggings, a long white tank top, a gray cardigan and my favorite gray boots.  It is amazing the details that you remember when you experience tragedy in your life.

Abi had never experienced anything like this in her life up to this point, and neither had I.  How was I supposed to explain to my beautiful baby girl that our baby had not grown past seven weeks, when I did not even understand it myself.

I was given three options in order to remove the deceased baby; a pill that would instigate labor, wait for my body to handle it naturally, or have a D&C.  I opted for the D&C because my body had yet to naturally start the process and I did not want to be awake when the baby was taken from me.

That is a hard to choice to make- which of these ways would you prefer to remove your deceased child?

The next day, January 28, 2012, Aaron and I drove to CMC-Pineville and left a few hours later, hurt and confused.



Today, I celebrate a life that was not given the chance to grace us with it's presence.  Hug your babies, kiss your mate and remember how short life can be.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow, nor a beginning for some of our unborn angels.