My husband and I had tried to conceive for two years and finally went for infertility treatment. Our first IUI (where they insert sperm into the uterus) was a success.
When I was 29 weeks along, I began feeling mild cramps all day. Everyone at work told me it normal. I went to my doctor anyway, and she could not find his heartbeat. My husband met me at the hospital and they tried to find his heartbeat with their monitors. Everything was silent.
They rushed me down to ultrasound where my OB met us. They turned the screen, but I could tell by their faces that he had died. I screamed and cried. I told God to take me instead. We went to labor and delivery and my husband called our families. I was given medication that made me very sleepy. My son was born only four hours after the ultrasound.
The doctor placed him on my chest. He was so warm. She wrapped him in a blanket, and I held and touched him. My husband also held him. The doctors and the nurses were very kind. They called the priest and he blessed our son. We all prayed together. A leaf with a tear drop was placed on our door so the staff knew our baby had died.
Since his death on September 15, 1999, we have started to try again to conceive. The doctor said his death was a result of a placenta abruption, so are hopeful that it will not happen again. We named our son Jared William and we will always love and miss him.
My pregnancy seemed to go without problems. In the last month or so, I kept having to go in for extra tests, but no one really said why. I tried not to worry even though my gut feeling told me something might be wrong. On June 22, 1998, my girlfriend insisted on coming with me to the doctor’s office. I was only a week away from the due date and wanted to push the doctors to induce labor. I know now that God made sure that she was with me that day because my husband couldn’t be.
I went to the sonogram room, and we didn’t see the baby’s heartbeat. The doctor asked when was the last time I had felt the baby move. I told her this morning. I asked if my baby had died and she replied with a very soft yes. All I could do was cry. I couldn’t believe we had made it this far and that my baby wasn’t going to be here with me.
As we drove to my house we tried to reason that maybe the baby is okay and that they made a mistake. As we pulled up, I saw my husband running outside with the bags we had packed for labor and delivery. I told him to go back into the house. When I got to the top of the stairs, I had to tell him the horrible news. I remember him crying and saying that they must have made a mistake.
We went to the hospital that night. The nurse was very sympathetic and asked me if I wanted to hold the baby after delivery, if I wanted pictures of the baby, if I wanted the baby baptized and if I would like to spend time alone with the baby after it was born. I remember answering yes to all her questions and that she told me I needed to do all those things for closure.
At 7:00 p.m. I was induced. At 11:53 p.m. I delivered a 5 lb, 5 oz baby girl. I saw nothing wrong with her, and I asked myself why didn’t they just take my baby before? So what if she was only a week early? We named her Celeste Josephine. I remember my husband on the phone with his brother while holding the baby telling him how beautiful she was. He held her for an hour before they came and took her away.
June 24, 1998, was the last day I got to see my baby at the funeral home. We spent a hour with her, then had to leave her there. She looked so beautiful with her headband on and her pretty pink dress. I put a baby duck in her coffin and her first car keys.
My husband and I discussed having another baby many times but we wanted to wait at least six months. I felt like I had done something wrong with God that I was being punished. I went to church almost every day to ask for his forgiveness.
My husband and I were constantly fighting and at that point didn’t even know if my marriage was going to last. I thought that I was having a nervous breakdown; I became very introverted and constantly had panic attacks. I couldn’t leave my house and would never be able to be alone. I finally talked my husband into letting me get online. When I did I found all kinds of outlets and people who have gone through the same thing as me.
I am very happy to say that I did become pregnant again in December 1998 and had a beautiful baby girl on August 31, 1999. Her name is Lourdes Celeste.
In 1991 I was stationed in Germany and found out I was pregnant. I was shocked, overjoyed and somewhat dumbfounded. Everything went fine, then at my 22 1/2 week mark, I was lying in bed and felt something wet come gushing out of me. I thought I had wet the bed so I got up and immediately saw a gush of blood. I started to cry then knowing that something was terribly wrong. I wrapped a towel around me and walked to the bathroom down the hall as I lived in the barracks. I left a trail of blood and blood clots on the floor in the hall. I then had the CQ on duty drive me to the hospital. They transferred me to labor and delivery.
The doctor examined me and the unkindly told me that my baby was going to die and there was nothing they could do. I cried endlessly. I told my significant other, who was with me, that I felt something between my legs. So he looked and sure enough there were two of the tiniest feet. So he ran to go get someone to help me. I then delivered a 14 oz and 11 3/4 inch baby. He never breathed. They told me that there was no reason for this to happen and it probably would never happen again. I was devastated.
I then transferred to Ft Knox, KY. The next summer I was overjoyed to discover that once again I was pregnant. I was so hopeful and feeling so blessed. In December I was scheduled to go on leave for the holidays. I packed my car and got ready for a long drive to Kansas. I was again 22 1/2 weeks along. I stopped at a rest stop to use the bathroom. I felt the same gush and I thought I just had to pee, but it kept coming and coming. I then started to hemorrhage again. God was with me and someone who worked at the rest stop was there. I don’t remember too much of the ride to the hospital. I remember lying there and the nurses asking who was with me and I told them “no one.” They didn’t give me much hope of my baby living, but they were not as cruel at the doctors in Germany. I then had to have an emergency C-section. I gave birth to a 14 oz, 11 3/4 inch baby girl whom I named Shalla Nickel Lewis.
My mom sent me a plane ticket home. I remember sitting on the plane in pain watching to see my daughter’s coffin being loaded onto the plane. It was a really horrible feeling to have to go through this not once but two times.
Then in January 1993 I made the horrible mistake of getting pregnant again. I was on bed rest from 12 weeks to 25 weeks when again my water broke in July. I drove myself to the hospital at Ft. Knox and was transferred to a hospital in Louisville, Ky. I was put almost on my head and given a bunch of medicine to stop my labor. Then the army said that they weren’t going to pay for me to spend the next months in a civilian hospital. So they flew me to Wright Patterson AFB, away from my family. I started to get a fever in my 26th week so they had to induce my labor. I was so scared and so alone.
I spent 36 hours in labor to deliver a 1lb 14 oz baby boy. I asked if he was breathing. My doctor said “Can’t you hear him?” then I heard the softest little cry. I knew right then that God would not take my baby from me. He was sent to Dayton Children’s Medical Center and spent 2 1/2 months in that hospital fighting for his life. I finally got to hold him after 19 days. It was the greatest feeling I had ever felt. He came home a whopping 4lbs 2oz. He is now 7 and all boy. I tell you I love my Dashawn more than anything.
Since then God has also gifted me with a girl whom I call Sarina. She is almost 4 and when she was born she weighed 5lbs 2oz.
I will not be having any more babies, and that makes me sad sometimes. But I never forget how God gave me two wonderful and spirited children whom I love with my whole heart. I know He does everything for a reason. Maybe I wasn’t meant to or wasn’t ready for my other two babies. But I am now.
Feel free to add your Third Trimester Story in the comments to share your experiences with other women and help us learn about the many ways we endure and cope with our loss.