Our Story

Let me say first that what you are about to read is very emotional. It is the true story of the loss of our infant daughter who was stillborn at the end of a term pregnancy. I am posting it in the hopes it will help another mother or father who is going through the same turmoil we did. There is hope for you if you are hurting. If you are reading this with a heart filled with grief, it is my prayer that God will comfort you and provide peace during this difficult time.

Our story originally appeared on the Empty Cradle.Net website in 2001, and was later published in the Modern Mommy newsletter.

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In December 1994, I became pregnant – a planned pregnancy that my husband and I eagerly looked forward to. I had struggled with polycystic ovaries and endometriosis, and we had feared I would not be able to conceive again (I had lost a baby through miscarriage a few years before). I had a wonderful pregnancy – I loved every minute of it. The baby literally thrived and we were overjoyed to find out we were having a daughter. My blood pressure was slightly elevated and I was borderline gestational diabetic, but the doctor said it was all within the normal range, so we didn’t worry.

As I approached my due date, we were told I would have to have a c-section because the baby was so large. We scheduled the section for Aug 10th – one week after my husband’s birthday. I had had my baby shower, the crib was up, room decorated. We were ready to bring this baby home. The doctor said the week of the section I would be at 38 weeks, which was the normal time to do a section. I was having no problems, so he felt it best to wait, even though I almost begged him to take her early (by this time I was in the “miserable” stage of pregnancy).

My parents were visiting us from out of town when I went in for my last checkup that Monday, August 7th, before the section. I thank God everytime I think of it that they were with me that day. My husband had attended every single appt I had, except for that one. I feel like God had it planned that way for a reason. I hadn’t felt very well the last couple of days previously, and I hadn’t felt her move at all in over 24 hours. Everyone kept telling me not to worry – babies get quiet right before you go into labor – so I listened. I went in to the exam room, and the nurse couldn’t find a heartbeat. She called in the doctor. He couldn’t find a heartbeat either. My mother was in the room with me, and my father was in the waiting room. The doctor told me he wanted me downstairs to have an ultrasound immediately, but that he suspected the baby had died.

I don’t remember much of what happened after that. My mother said I collapsed outside the doctor’s office and they carried me downstairs. I remember looking at the ultrasound and seeing my baby – and no heartbeat. We went to where my husband works, and told him (my parents almost carrying him too) to the car, and we headed home to get our things and then on to the hospital.

I went in for an emergency c-section that night. Our daughter, Ashley, weighed 9 lbs, 7 oz and was 20″ long. She was beautiful, and stillborn. The cord was wrapped around her neck and around one of her arms. She had died while I slept that Saturday night before, and I never felt her struggle. Nothing. They knocked me completely out for the c-section and woke me up so that I could see her. I was unable to hold her because they kept me so sedated trying to keep me calm. Fortunately, my husband, my parents, and my best friend were there and they held her and brought her close to me so I could see her through my tears. My heart was literally broken – I didn’t want to live. I blamed myself – I thought I had done something to cause her death, even though the doctor assured me I had done everything right.

They kept me in the hospital for 4 days – most of which I was sedated on a morphine pump. I didn’t want to go home. I had all of the baby things in the house – and I couldn’t handle it. We had opted for cremation because I would not have been able to attend the funeral otherwise. I was devastated, as was my husband. I was angry, confused. I prayed, and prayed for answers. I cried an ocean of tears – until I thought I could cry no more, and then from somewhere within me more would spill out.

I had thoughtless people tell me it was “for the best” – which I did not want to hear. I know they meant well, but people do not always say the appropriate things at times like that. I had several people give me books on grief and dealing with the loss of a child that were extremely helpful. All contained scripture which sustained me when nothing else could. Were it not for my faith, I can honestly say I do not think I would still be here. I did not think I could live through my daughter’s death – yet I am still here. God provided strength and peace when I thought I would lose my sanity, and provided people around me who were a comfort to my aching soul.

Three months after Ashley died, I was pregnant again and scared to death. I was a nervous wreck the entire pregnancy. I went into preterm labor at 29 weeks and wound up on complete bedrest the last two months. My blood pressure was through the roof and I was on medication for that. I was going to the hospital twice a week for non-stress tests where they monitored the baby’s heartbeat and checked his movements. My husband and I lived from visit to visit – worrying, hoping, praying. At 36 weeks, things were not going well during one of the tests, and my doctor decided to do an emergency section and deliver our son. I didn’t feel like my body was the best place for him to be – I wanted to see him and touch him and know that he was ok – even if he was in the infant ICU until his lungs developed fully.

To make a longer story shorter our son was born that day – almost two weeks shy of our daughter’s birthday. He weighed a whopping 8 lbs, 6 oz and was 21″ long – and a MONTH early (I almost named him “ouch!”). His lungs were fully developed – and he never required a bit of assistance in breathing. I call him our “miracle baby”. He has been my therapy and my sunshine. I praise God for this child that we were blessed with, even on days when my patience is tried to its limits. He is now 4 years old, and I am a stay-at-home mom. I can think of no other place I would rather be.

If you are suffering through the loss of a child or know of someone who is, there are many books available that are very good and helpful. It took a while before I could begin to read them, but I needed to know I was not alone – that other women had felt the devastation I was going through.

Take things one day at a time – and try (even though I know it is hard) to find something positive – even if it’s only for the air you breathe. Some days that’s all I could be thankful for.

Also realize that men and women grieve very differently. My husband and I did, and it almost cost us our marriage. He was just as destroyed as I was, but he turned all of the pain inside and wouldn’t discuss it with me. It took some major events for us to come to a point where we could talk about our daughter’s death and actually sit and cry – together…..four years after she died.

If the depression is so severe that you feel you can’t go on, please seek some help. There are many medications that will make this time a little easier to deal with. It won’t make it go away, but it could offer some stability when you feel there is none. Talk to your doctor, your pastor, your best friend – someone, but don’t shut yourself out from the rest of the world. It *does* get easier with time, although you will never completely get over it. Our daughter would have been six years old this year and I still cry myself to sleep some nights over her loss. Allow yourself to grieve, and give yourself time to heal. The pain will lessen, but it takes a while to get there.

Please also see our page on Scripture to Comfort .

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• Scripture to Comfort