In 2008, my husband and I were thrilled to find out that we were expecting our first child. Immediately, we decided to not find out the sex, making our journey that more exciting for us. I experienced a text book pregnancy. I loved being pregnant! I loved watching my belly grow, feeling the baby’s movements, and reading about the baby’s week to week developments. We prepared the baby’s nursery and had a couple baby showers. It was an exciting time for us and our entire families.
That excitement came to a screeching halt on November 11, 2008 — just three days before my due date. I had a routine prenatal check-up. The doctor held the Doppler to my belly, but had difficulty finding the heartbeat, so we went across the hallway to the sonogram room.
There was deafening silence, no heartbeat, no movement.
That ever so familiar sound of “swish swish” was no longer there. My baby was gone. Just like that.
I had a c-section that evening. Brenna Rose was silently born at 9:20 pm, weighing 6 pounds and 7 ounces. She died of a cord accident. I will never forget seeing her and touching for the first time and for the last time. Her skin was so soft and pink. She had perfect little lips, fingers, and toes. For nine months I imagined holding her, touching her, loving her. And at that moment I was doing all those things, but I never imagined feeling such heartache at the same time.
I will always be thankful for the NILMDTS Foundation for taking photos, capturing our few moments together as a family of three.
Now, five years later, I have come to recognize my grief comes and goes in waves. Sometimes like a tidal wave, sometimes like a gentle tide rolling in along the shore. Regardless, I still grieve and miss Brenna desperately.
— Laurie, Our Bun is in Her Oven
Photo credit: adapted from slgckgc/Flickr