- M
- V
- J
March 30th, 2018 started out as any other day. I got up, made some coffee, and ate breakfast. I went to work like any regular day. At about 6 pm I noticed the contractions, I wasn’t sure if it was real labor or not but I started counting the time in between and I was getting the pain every 3-4min. I stopped and breathe through the contraction. My sister's eyes glistened with excitement at the possibility that I was finally in labor. I knew it was time to go.
I was calm. Ready. In control. I breathed and counted through each painful contraction on the way to the hospital. After triage, I laid on the uncomfortable hospital bed surrounded by loved ones and excitedly waited for them to check my baby’s heartbeat and put on the monitors to check the contractions. The first nurse couldn’t find the heartbeat, and another nurse came in to check. I prayed to God to please, please let my baby be okay. I locked eyes with my sister, terrified. When the doctor came in to do an ultrasound my prayers changed. The verse came to me “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
The doctor put the cold jelly on my belly, and began looking for her heartbeat, she looked up at me and my heart dropped. Her eyes were full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, but There is no heartbeat”
No words can adequately describe the sorrow and despair felt when you are told your child has died.
But there is always a light, and from that moment on I have never witnessed or felt so much love in my entire life.
My heart stopped. My world stopped. My baby? I was taken back by disbelief. Friday we had an ultrasound and she was perfectly healthy. The doctor turned the screen and I saw my baby's perfectly healthy body and spine curved around and heartbeat.
I honestly can’t remember exactly what happened. All I know is that anguish, despair, and heartbreak barely break the surface of what wretched feelings I felt. I screamed. I cried. I watched the hearts break of the loved ones around me.
How could this be? This happened to other people, not me. How could we be in the tiny minority that has stillborn babies? It should be a perfect delivery…we should be calling everyone telling them that the long-awaited baby girl was on her way.
The family around me loved and comforted me when I couldn’t even think straight let alone truly wrap my head around this devastation.
After 8 more hours of painful labor and delivery, I gave birth to a baby that I knew was already gone. How could I find the strength when I knew that I wouldn't get to hear her cry...to give birth to death? It took all the little strength left in me, through tears to do it.
At 4 pm March 31st, 2018 my daughter Adalyn Rose was born. She was the most beautiful perfect little girl I have ever seen. I sobbed. I was in love. She was a perfect mix between me and her dad. I held her tightly. I knew that this time was the only time I would get with my long anticipated baby. Most of our immediate family was there by then and was able to hold her, for the first and last time.
After hours spent with her, it was time to say goodbye. I kissed her in her little cot and told her how much I loved her, and how sorry I was.
Gut-wrenching. Impossible. Horrifying.
My partner and I were watching our baby girl be wheeled off to have other procedures done.
I wanted to rip my hair out, I felt like I was about to explode. How could life possibly go on without my baby girl? The thought of having a stillborn baby that was healthy and fully developed the day before seemed like an incomprehensible far away concept. I would look around, angry and confused that the world was still turning while mine had stopped. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t breathe and it was so hard to see past this pain. I didn't want to live in a world my daughter wasn't in.
Now we are finally in the process of having her burial services and in need of all the financial help and support possible. Having to bury our baby girl was not in our budget. Please help me and my family with anything you possibly can so that I can bury my baby Adalyn Rose and have her RIP.
Thank you in advance for all your help and support.
I was calm. Ready. In control. I breathed and counted through each painful contraction on the way to the hospital. After triage, I laid on the uncomfortable hospital bed surrounded by loved ones and excitedly waited for them to check my baby’s heartbeat and put on the monitors to check the contractions. The first nurse couldn’t find the heartbeat, and another nurse came in to check. I prayed to God to please, please let my baby be okay. I locked eyes with my sister, terrified. When the doctor came in to do an ultrasound my prayers changed. The verse came to me “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
The doctor put the cold jelly on my belly, and began looking for her heartbeat, she looked up at me and my heart dropped. Her eyes were full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, but There is no heartbeat”
No words can adequately describe the sorrow and despair felt when you are told your child has died.
But there is always a light, and from that moment on I have never witnessed or felt so much love in my entire life.
My heart stopped. My world stopped. My baby? I was taken back by disbelief. Friday we had an ultrasound and she was perfectly healthy. The doctor turned the screen and I saw my baby's perfectly healthy body and spine curved around and heartbeat.
I honestly can’t remember exactly what happened. All I know is that anguish, despair, and heartbreak barely break the surface of what wretched feelings I felt. I screamed. I cried. I watched the hearts break of the loved ones around me.
How could this be? This happened to other people, not me. How could we be in the tiny minority that has stillborn babies? It should be a perfect delivery…we should be calling everyone telling them that the long-awaited baby girl was on her way.
The family around me loved and comforted me when I couldn’t even think straight let alone truly wrap my head around this devastation.
After 8 more hours of painful labor and delivery, I gave birth to a baby that I knew was already gone. How could I find the strength when I knew that I wouldn't get to hear her cry...to give birth to death? It took all the little strength left in me, through tears to do it.
At 4 pm March 31st, 2018 my daughter Adalyn Rose was born. She was the most beautiful perfect little girl I have ever seen. I sobbed. I was in love. She was a perfect mix between me and her dad. I held her tightly. I knew that this time was the only time I would get with my long anticipated baby. Most of our immediate family was there by then and was able to hold her, for the first and last time.
After hours spent with her, it was time to say goodbye. I kissed her in her little cot and told her how much I loved her, and how sorry I was.
Gut-wrenching. Impossible. Horrifying.
My partner and I were watching our baby girl be wheeled off to have other procedures done.
I wanted to rip my hair out, I felt like I was about to explode. How could life possibly go on without my baby girl? The thought of having a stillborn baby that was healthy and fully developed the day before seemed like an incomprehensible far away concept. I would look around, angry and confused that the world was still turning while mine had stopped. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t breathe and it was so hard to see past this pain. I didn't want to live in a world my daughter wasn't in.
Now we are finally in the process of having her burial services and in need of all the financial help and support possible. Having to bury our baby girl was not in our budget. Please help me and my family with anything you possibly can so that I can bury my baby Adalyn Rose and have her RIP.
Thank you in advance for all your help and support.