How it Started

So my aunt thinks it would be a good idea for me to write a bit to try to get the pain out of me. Haven’t written in years, don't know if I still have it in me. I guess the theraputic factor could be a good enough reason, who the hell knows? At this point, I’m not sure if getting my feelings down on "paper" would make me feel better or make me want to kill myself. Not really. I’m not the suicidal type. I figure, maybe to help me get into the typing groove I’ll start a blog or something. Never did that before. Mybabyjustdied.com or something. Bleak humor seems natural right now.

On June 1, 2009, my baby died in the womb. Pregnancy-wise, I was 29 weeks and change. Baby wasn’t growing right, was about a month behind schedule. They noticed it at a routine ultrasound, otherwise I never would have known. I had no symptoms to tip me off to my preeclampsia. I felt baby kicking regularly, real soccer-player kicks, made me almost pee my pants a few times. She was a great kicker.

So baby was a month behind growth, and they told me I had to go to Cooper hospital in Camden. Scott and I get there, and they say they have no idea what’s wrong with me, but that I’ll be there a few days for tests. The fear is unreal. Tests come back negative, but I’m dropping a gram of protein in my urine. That means probably preeclampsia. Which means bedrest until the baby’s born. Hospital says, you’re in here for the long haul.

Scott buys me a Nintendo DS and Zelda. Brings me clothes, books, food that doesn’t suck as hard as the hospital food. Buys me presents. I think he doesn’t know what to do, so he spends money. It’s more than sweet, how much he loves me. How much I love him.

The doctors were never hopeful – they sent a doctor up from the NICU to talk to me about the survival rate of 23 week old babies (gestationally, that’s what she measured, although I was 28 weeks). She was only 500 grams, which is the absolute minimum for a baby to survive. Emphasize survive – not thrive. Babies born that small usually have issues in life; reduced intelligence, blindness, lung and heart problems. That’s if baby even survived. The doctors said, expect to lose the baby. I was stupid and kept hoping.