A year ago I was seven months pregnant with our second child. We found out at our 18-week ultrasound, much to my delight, that this one was a girl. As the last months of pregnancy ambled on, we got more and more excited. We had done the boy thing already; we were ready for a daughter.
Everything was normal as the end of pregnancy drew near. There were no signs of a problem when I visited the doctor that final week. However, at 39 weeks and 4 days, I couldn't shake the feeling, “I haven't been feeling this baby move as much.”
We went to the hospital, not really alarmed, but concerned. When they couldn't find her heartbeat, mine beat fast enough and furiously enough for both of us, as though it were trying to live for her. Ultrasounds confirmed that our child had died.
We delivered her that day—September 22, 2007—Felicity Margaret Piper. She weighed 9 pounds, 5 ounces and was perfectly formed, though her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck.
I had no category for “stillbirth” before this. Who gets 39 weeks into a smooth pregnancy and doesn't think they're definitely going to bring home their baby?
The road we've walked the past 10 months has been horribly difficult, the hardest thing we've ever walked through in our lives.
Here are some things I'd like people to know about me during this time. Maybe it will be helpful for you as you love other women you know who are living through the loss of a child.
You can read the rest of the blog here.You can read Molly's blog here.