I’ve been part of this group for over a month now, and I feel I can finally share my story. I hope it helps someone, as your stories have helped me. It’s a long story, because I want to tell it all.
My pregnancy seemed perfect. Aside from some nausea in the early weeks, I felt great. I was exercising several times a week, eating properly, sleeping well, gaining the right amount of weight. Little baby bean (as we called him) was growing perfectly. I loved watching him move. My husband even complimented me, saying I was taking such good care of him. I really liked being pregnant, I felt like I was good at it.
On October 14th, my family threw me a baby shower. Family and friends were all there to celebrate the upcoming arrival of our first child. They touched my belly and asked if he was moving. “Not right now!” I said. I was so caught up in the celebration, I didn’t stop to think about it.
On October 15th, I woke up to the sensation of my water breaking. I was 32 weeks pregnant. This should not be happening, I thought. I called my doctor. “Is the baby moving?” she asked. My mind raced and went numb at the same moment. I felt like I was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper when I realized, “No, I haven’t noticed him move since Friday.” That was 2 days prior.
This is the hardest for me to admit: I wasn't concerned with his lack of movement until the doctor asked. I convinced myself that everything was fine because my pregnancy was perfect. I told myself that he was more active some days than others, and it was fine. I didn’t know that I should’ve been counting kicks. I didn’t know I should have gone to the hospital when I stopped feeling his movements.
But once the doctor asked, I realized how stupid and naïve I was. Just blissfully ignorant. I think I knew then that he was gone, but my mind wouldn’t admit it.
When we got to the hospital, a nurse searched for my baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler. Nothing. The doctors rushed in with an ultrasound. Nothing. I’m so sorry, they said.
I went into total shock. I don’t think I said a single word or shed a single tear. I could not look my husband in the eye. When they left the room, I told him I was sorry. I was supposed to carry our baby safely and I failed. I hated myself.
I gave birth to our baby boy at 11pm that night. After the final push I felt myself plummeting into despair. "That's the end of my pregnancy," I thought. The stark finality of it was so hard to comprehend.
We named him Wesley Henderson. He was 3 pounds and 14 ounces, and 16 inches.
I was afraid to see him. I thought he might be disfigured, and scar my memory of my perfect baby. But my husband wanted to see him, and I reluctantly agreed. When the nurse handed the little bundle to my husband, he looked at me with tears streaming and said, “he’s perfect.” And he was. He was warm, pink, and soft. He even had little brown eyebrows.
I stroked his cheeks and the tears finally came. My only thought was that I wanted him so badly. I told him I was sorry. I kissed him and asked him to watch over his brothers and sisters – if we are lucky enough to have them. I said goodbye. I'll never forget the image of the young nurse with curly blond hair walking away and out of the room, holding my first child and carrying him away from me.
Hi. I am very new to this. I'm used to dealing with this alone. Don't get me wrong, I have family that tries and a wonderful husband that's there to comfort me whenever I need it. But, no one understands this. I always feel so empty. Most little girls want to be princesses or a ballet dancer when they were little, but I.. I've always wanted to be a mommy. Oh, I have always been in love with...
I had a still born baby boy on the 9/9/09 and I'm still struggling I've had two boys since but I can't stop thinking about how Lucas would have been like. I'm hoping to talk to some lovely ladies about this