My husband and I have always known we wanted children. We decided to start once we had worked for a few years to pay off our student debts, and have a house and our own business. It was looking like that was all coming about, so in April 2014 we started trying. I am in my early thirties and I assumed it would happen quickly, as it had for all my friends around me. After 4 months I was starting to get antsy, and by 6 months I felt like I was going a bit crazy, but then it happened!! I figured that the wait was the universes' way of making sure we appreciated what we had. I decided not to worry and stress about a miscarriage, because who wants to go through each day feeling anxious? I was so excited to be pregnant that I almost couldn't stand it. Nothing could upset me, I had this life growing inside me, and my husband and I were going to get to be the family we always wanted to be! We called him or her Poppy because when we took the pregnancy test we knew she had to be the size of a poppy seed, and the name stuck.

We went for a follow up at 10 weeks, and the nurse and Doctor tried to find the heartbeat with a Doppler, but they were unable to. They told me it was early yet and not to worry, that it was very common. Then 2 weeks later (at my 12 week mark) we had an ultrasound scheduled. That morning I had a minor breakdown in the shower. I had this nasty feeling set in and I was very nervous to go. It was like a voice in the back of my mind telling me something bad was about to happen. My husband thought I was nuts because I'd actively decided not to be nervous, and today was the big day we'd been looking forward to, We got to the appointment and the ultrasound tech started the scan off with the screen turned away from us. Then she stayed very quiet, and after about 10 minutes she said she was going to review the images with the radiologist and would come back. My husband and I tried looking at the screen because we knew something must be wrong, but she had locked it, so those were the longest few minutes of our life (up to that point). When she came back she said that "The gestational sac appears inconsistent with how far along you are, and appears more consistent with a 6-7 week fetus, though there is no heartbeat detected". Um, excuse me?? What are you saying?! My baby is not a gestational sac!! We were at least lucky in the fact that the ultrasound department was downstairs to my doctors office, so she told us to go upstairs and she'd get the radiologist to write his report very quickly and send it upstairs. We got up to the desk and my husband said something, and they put us directly into a room. The doctor came in and said the radiologist called and explained his findings, and she said that we are having a miscarriage. I felt devastated. I cried a lot, and it felt very unfair, but I knew we could get pregnant and assumed we just had one-off bad luck, so aside from being very sad and frustrated, I was sort of OK. "Everything happens for a reason", "You'll get pregnant soon", "This sort of thing happens all the time" were actually things I could hear said to me, and they kind of resonated.

I knew miscarriages happened pretty commonly, and when people found out it had happened to me I started hearing stories from many of my friends who had also gone through it. It started to almost feel like a normal thing that happened. Which was why when I got pregnant again, I was very nervous. We were in the process of moving across the country when we found out we were pregnant again. It had been 5 months since we lost Poppy, and it was starting to feel like forever (I know it really wasn't). But when we got that positive test I just KNEW this was the baby we were supposed to have. If Poppy had lived I would have been 8 months pregnant while we were moving across the country and didn't have a house yet. I thought, the universe knows what it's doing.

I remember coming across a story on Facebook in my first few weeks of pregnancy of a woman who lost her son to a cord accident, on the day she was due. She had started having some contractions the day before, gone into the hospital and they sent her home because it was early on in the process. She went home and got some sleep, but when she woke up the baby wasn't moving anymore. They raced back to the hospital only to learn that his heart had stopped. When she delivered him his cord was wrapped around his neck. Being in my first few weeks, I was very hormonal, and this story upset me very much. I cried about it, told my husband and friends, and I just remember thinking, how AWFUL!! How could something like that possibly happen?? I knew what a stillbirth was, and that they happened, but I'd only ever known one person and it had happened in 1980. It was an evil too unspeakable. I mentioned it to my new doctor, and he said "Oh Dear, you can't worry about those things, they happen so rarely that there's certainly no point stressing about it." He was right. I was going to enjoy every moment of this pregnancy.

The summer brought about the purchase of our dream home, taking over a veterinary hospital (we are both vets), and enjoying being home with our family. After spending 6 years on the other side of the country, we knew this was just the beginning of the life we had imagined and worked so hard for. We were very busy, but it was good. My husband was unable to come to every doctors appointment because he was working so much, but he made it to the ultrasounds. The first ultrasound showed that she was perfect so far. The second ultrasound told us she was a girl. We were so shocked because for some reason our gut feelings told us she was a boy, but I was so excited that on the way home I stopped and bought a bunch of girls outfits.

I remember the first time I felt her kick. I was driving and I felt the tiniest little pop. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, so I was pretty sure it was a kick, so I waited for more. And I waited. It took 2 weeks to feel more! Then I felt quite a few every day for 5 days. And then they stopped. So I panicked. I ran to our clinic and put the ultrasound on, and there she was popping around. After a few weeks of on and off kicking it became more frequent, and then never really stopped.

We decided to name her Hailey Amelia. We thought it was the prettiest name that ever existed, and knew she was going to be beautiful. I can honestly say that I appreciated every moment of being pregnant with her, even when I noticed I was getting varicose veins, and stretch marks, and my back hurt, and I couldn't eat much without feeling like I'd eaten 3 turkey dinners, and I missed wine so bad... but it was so worth it. I would laugh about those things, and tell her it was OK, that I'd get her back some day, but that I was glad that my body was going to show the marks of what it was achieving. I took tons of pregnancy photos, and I even took a video of my belly one night when she was particularly active, and I can see her little punches pushing my belly around. I like to sing (best done in the privacy of my car) so every morning on my ride to work I would sing some of my favourite songs, and the louder I sang, the more active she was. I pictured us singing in the kitchen together someday as we baked cookies, and me singing her to sleep in a few short months.

In the last few weeks I was really starting to feel the effects of her growing size. My husband and I would talk in amazement that all that was left was for her to put on weight. She was a person, but just needed to grow a bit more. But she had hair, and all her fingers and toes, and we had our 3D ultrasound picture of her face, so we even knew what she looked like, and she just needed a bit more time, but we were on the home stretch and soon she would be with us. It felt surreal, I could not wait! We had her nursery painted, my parents put her crib together. I couldn't find a dresser to match, and this was my biggest worry. I was pretty active in the business, which was going to have to change, but we had figured out a plan to make it work, so things were kind of ready. We just needed to wait a little bit longer. And I couldn't find the stroller I wanted in the right colour...

When I went for my last "normal" appointment the nurse asked me if I was feeling her regularly. I said yes, but that it seemed like maybe she didn't have enough space. I was having pretty frequent Braxton-Hicks contractions. At the time I didn't clue in that they were happening more on one side than the other, but I thought it was just her pushing into that side. The nurse said "Are you feeling 6 kicks in 2 hours?" and I said that I didn't really set aside the same time to count every day, but that she always moves in the morning when I sing, and usually kicks again in the evening. She said that sounded great and we didn't talk about it again. Then on November 14-15th we were doing some minor renovations to our clinic. I stayed away from the area of activity, and painted the baseboards with low VOC paint that we chose specifically because it would be safe for me to paint with. My parents were up from their house 2 hours away to help us, and my Mom hadn't felt her kick yet, so she kept asking me. I honestly can't remember if she did kick much that weekend, but I was feeling her "roll" around... I look back now and realize that I was having weird contractions, and that something was definitely wrong. My Mom never got to feel her. I went Monday for a massage, and usually when I was quietly laying down was when I would feel her. She never moved. It was late afternoon, and not a normal time for her to be moving, but it gave me a really unsettled feeling, so I went to the clinic and put the ultrasound on. I found her heart beat quickly, and she gave me one strong kick, as if to say "Leave me alone, I'm sleeping!". I thought "Stop worrying, your stress could hurt her". I didn't want to bother anyone with my unfounded paranoia, nobody likes a Nervous Nelly, and what did this nervousness say about my abilities to mother?? Surely I should just relax; I had no pain, no bleeding, if I was having any contractions they were Braxton-Hicks because they weren't painful, or longer, or stronger, or closer together, like they reinforced time and time again in our pre-natal class. She was moving less because she had less room. I felt her rolling around. I saw her heartbeat with my own two eyes. I needed to calm down and find that dresser.

The next day was another regular doctors appointment. The nurse again started out by asking routine questions: How was I feeling, is she moving well, etc. "Well, she's not really moving that well, just kind of rolling around the last few days. I'm thinking it's because she has less room, that's what everybody says, but maybe you could tell me what I'm supposed to be looking for? I know I'm just being paranoid, but it would make me feel better if I knew that the rolling was fine, even if I don't feel kicks." Nurse has slightly startled expression. Gets me to lay down and takes out the Doppler. Hailey had been a bit notorious for always moving around when we were trying to find her with the Doppler, but the nurse was pretty good, and could usually get it and then follow her around. She was having trouble. Maybe it was the Doppler, this one's a bit worn out. She gets another Doppler. Can pick up my umbilical artery no problem. I had my own Doppler at home, and I listened to her on Saturday night, so I almost took it out of her hands and tried to find it myself, but instead I started to cry. I couldn't say anything, just sat still while she found her heartbeat, this wasn't funny anymore. She stopped trying after a bit and said she'd get the Doctor, who would likely be able to find it in no time. When she came back they brought the ultrasound machine with them. I just lay there thinking "Oh my god, is she that big and bony that it's this hard?? Her bones are clearly obstructing the ultrasound probe, but I mean, come on ladies!! This is getting a bit stressful, you need to tell me what I already know: She's fine. So just hurry up and tell me that, please" Then the unspeakable. But she wasn't 100% sure. She could get a 4-chamber view, and it was fluttering but she was pretty sure that was just my pulse causing the valves to flutter, not actual beating. She had to be wrong. She had to be the most incompetent, stupid, useless Doctor that ever walked the face of the earth. They called my husband who came immediately. I said "They think she's gone". He screamed and cried. I went numb. I thought "He doesn't need to be this upset, they are wrong. We will get to the hospital and they will find her heartbeat, and they will apologize for doing this to us. They will fire the incompetent Doctor who can't find babies heartbeats, and we will continue merrily on our way, telling our friends the horror story of when we thought we lost her for an hour and how it was the worst hour of our lives."

I don't really remember the drive to the hospital, or arriving there, or really much about where my body went or what was said to it. I remember my thoughts, and I remember the next Doctor confirming that they also couldn't find the heartbeat. I actually had to ask the question "So she's gone? And we can't bring her back?". I wasn't sure. I didn't truly believe them, I still thought they were all wrong.

We decided to be induced, but it took 3 days. It was a bit of a blur, and I said yes to morphine more often for mental anguish than for physical pain. I delivered her at 12:56pm on Friday, November 20th, 2015. She weight 4lbs 6oz, had a head full of brown thick hair (we were both blonde so we were pretty sure she would be too), was 17.5" long, was perfect in every way, and was stunningly beautiful. Looking at her felt like a revelation. It felt like I hadn't truly lived before seeing her face. Maybe some of that was the morphine, but being able to see her and hold her made knowing I was going to have to go on without her somewhat more bearable. It was like she was too perfect to stay in this shitty world. Which wasn't a good enough reason for me.

We spent the rest of the day with her. Her 4 Grandparents and 2 set of Aunts and Uncles all got to hold her. They all stayed with us all day, but gave us a few spells of alone time with her. Eight hours is not enough time to say everything you need to say, especially when you expected a lifetime, but it did give me time to tell her how much I love her, that I will never ever stop thinking about her, that I'm sorry I misread the signs and I will always regret that, but for her sake I'll someday try to forgive myself because she didn't exist to ruin anything, including the lives of her parents. It gave me time to kiss her perfect face - her skin was so soft you weren't even sure your fingertips were touching it, and kiss her beautiful little lips, and cheeks, and hold her hands. We took pictures, though I wish we'd had someone who takes professional photos, but at least we have some, and they are pretty good considering the circumstances.

At the end of the night we were so spent that we knew we needed to go home, but I also knew that meant giving her to the nurse. I didn't think I could. Or at least I hoped that I had a secret aneurysm that was waiting to burst and it would choose the moment just before she left my arms, so I'd never have to know what this felt like. But I don't have an aneurysm waiting to burst. I had to experience it. It felt like a betrayal. Like maybe I should just stay forever, until she turns to dust, or they pull me away, or they take her away while I'm sleeping, and then when I wake up screaming because she's gone, they inject me with sedatives and haul me off to the straight-jacket ward, where I'll most certainly wind up soon anyway. But I handed her over. She was wearing a pink little newborn sleeper with an angel on the front, wrapped in a small flannel baby blanket, then wrapped inside a bigger purple minky blanket that we bought especially for her. My husband had a terrible picture of the two of us taken when we first started dating, at a party, smiling broadly, with our eyes not quite open enough, in his wallet. We put that with her, and we bought her a stuffed bear. Her Grandparents also bought her a doll. We chose to have an autopsy, and then have her cremated, so we made sure that everything we bought her would stay with her. The hospital had also given us a beautiful silver necklace that came in two pieces. It was a heart, and inside the heart was a smaller solid heart. We put the smaller solid heart on her, and I wear the larger heart with the heart-shaped hole in the center. We share that, and I know that when I let the nurse take her, she was wearing it.

The past 8 weeks have been a complete roller coaster. I've had fits of the darkest despair, I've had moments where I almost feel normal, I've had moments where I can laugh, but mostly an overwhelming sense of "What's the point?". I think I will probably get through this, and my husband and I still feel like we will be parents to more children, but right now most things don't have any meaning. It hits me over and over that I have to live the entire rest of my life without her, and I worry that I can't do that. I worry that I'm ruined, and that even if I do live to be a hundred, it will be a wasted life because she got taken from me. I worry that I won't live to be old to get back the joy of life I once had. I worry that I'll get the joy I once had and then get sick and die too young. I worry my husband will get sick or get into a car accident. I worry I'll run out of time with my parents or close friends and they'll never know how much they meant to me, but I don't have any energy to tell them right now. I worry that I might not get pregnant again. I worry that if I get pregnant again, all I'll do is worry, and that will hurt the baby. I worry that if I don't worry, I'll miss something again. I worry that I'll love the new baby more because I'll have experiences with him or her that I'll never have with Hailey. I worry that I'll love the new baby less because they aren't Hailey. I worry that this isn't the end of horrible unspeakable things happening to us. I worry I'll be a worse mother because I'll be overprotective. I worry I'll never forget this pain. I worry I will forget this pain, and that will mean I'm forgetting her. I'm worried that I can't separate my love her from the pain I feel when I think of her. I'm angry I can't think of my beautiful baby girl without feeling pain. I'm grateful I got to have her, even for the short time it was. I wouldn't trade an ounce of this pain for a life without, knowing it would mean I didn't have her. I still get thoughts that there is something I can do to get her back. Like maybe in a parallel universe she lived, and I can get a glimpse of it someday.

Every day is a struggle, and right now working to heal my pain seems like I'm working to forget her, but I needed to tell her story. Maybe the body naturally wants to heal so the love can shine through, and it won't all have been a waste. I think that's going to be my reason for trying at least - she wasn't a waste. We are still waiting for the final autopsy results and an appointment with a genetic counsellor. So far all we know is that I had a placental abruption, but without any of the usual signs of one. It's beyond frustrating that I was healthy, and she was perfect, and it was the interface that failed us both. Thank you so much for reading this, if you got all the way through. Please share your stories so I don't feel so crazy.