After a fairly uneventful pregnancy with our 2nd son, to be named Joel Tristan after much debate & going back & forth on names, we were at the end of the pregnancy & looking forward to his birth. His room was ready, baby stuff was ready, we were ready. It was just a waiting game at the 40 week mark. We, myself, my husband, & our then 17 month old old son, made our way to our 40 week prenatal appointment, I felt him moving on the drive there. I sat on my midwifes couch, making small talk about things. Got weighed, got measured, everything was peachy. Went to check the heartbeat, the student midwife did at least, she couldn’t find it. Since then my midwife told me she actually wasn’t concerned at that moment, it wasn’t until a few minutes later when she tried that she became concerned, but I knew. As soon as the student tried it and got nothing, I knew. It was a sinking feeling I couldn’t avoid. More checking, nothing found, trip to hospital. Before we go, my midwife knew I knew it was bad, we exchanged some glances and I know she knew that I already knew. Before we left, I asked what I knew, “It shouldn’t be this hard to find if it was there, should it?” She paused for a second, but realizing she promised me nothing but honesty & knowing that I already knew, she confirmed that if it was there we would have heard it.

We make the longest drive to the hospital I’d ever had. On the way up the the OB floor, women in the elevator make small talk with our son telling him that he’s obviously about to be a big brother. I wanted to curl up & die right then. We made our way to the OB window, where we are met with the most uncompassinate person I’d encountered in my life up to that point. Even though my midwife called ahead & a room was prepared for us, this nurse refused to let us back because she said we needed to go to the first floor to register. I finally blurted out that my baby had no heartbeat, to which she responded with “it doesn’t matter, you can’t come back.” My husband yelling got the attention of the doctor & nurses who were waiting on us & we were taken back to a little room with an ultrasound machine. They hand me a gown to change into, while I do this I hurry hoping for any chance for our baby. If I move fast enough, it’ll be OK.

But it wasn’t. As the med student did the ultrasound, pointing out his chest area with no heartbeat, the resident went down her laundry list of things I could have done to make my baby die. She did it in a way that it wasn’t offensive & I understand why she asked, but it just reminds me that the initial reaction is “what could she have done or had to cause this?

Did I drink? Did I do any drugs? Did I have high blood pressure? How about diabetes? Did I smoke? C-sections? Any gushes of fluid? And how about smoking…did I smoke? Drink? Do drugs? Have prenatal care? Get abducted by aliens?

She was looking for that one thing, the thing that they could say “THAT!” & have an answer for this. Because see, babies shouldn’t just die. But mine had. I did nothing and he died. And I wondered, maybe he died because I did nothing. It was a surreal position to be in.

We went from talking about a baby to talking about a funeral, all in just a couple short hours. Looking in a phone book to see funeral home ads, picking one just because it listed “infant services.” Never got around to picking out his first outfit, instead we went into his room that night and picked out the only outfit he would wear, complete with a hat and fuzzy socks. I insisted on the fuzzy socks. Two blankets, one to leave with him and one to bring home. Only thing I knew for sure we’d be bringing home. I’d been holding onto a 50% off coupon for Sears to get the boys pictures made in a matching outfit. Instead, I threw it away & went on to call Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, because those would be the only pictures I’d ever have.

The next day I was given another ultrasound & lab work before I was sent to labor & delivery again. My husband wasn’t allowed in the room with me during the ultrasound, the tech had no idea our son had already been confirmed dead & made small talk asking why I was worried that something was wrong. I’d hoped she would tell me he was alright, that they’d been wrong the night before. I asked her to tell me something, she told me she couldn’t but the radiologist would when he came back. When the radiologist came back, he stood a foot away from me, never making eye contact, and pointing at the screen talking about “head deformities” and commented that there is “no way to know how long it’s been dead” with the technician. He finally did make eye contact with me, smiled, & told me to go back to my doctors office for a report of the ultrasound. As if I didn’t just hear everything he’d said about my son. After that I spent about 2 hours in the lobby, hysterically crying, horrified about what he’d just said about my son, scared to deliver and even scared to ever see my son. I was induced after being denied the c-section I sat in a waiting room & cried & begged for because I couldn’t handle going though a long labor & delivery like I’d had with my older son. During my induction people came in the room who obviously had no idea what was going on, as one woman talked about her induction & labors with her living children like it was nothing. Everyone who came in the room asked, “so, you gonna try again?” Of course, as we sat in the doctors office while he filled out my admit paperwork & other things, he went on & on himself about how we can have another & if I had this problem or that it’d be easily fixed as if I, well, wasn’t sitting there 40 weeks pregnant with my child dead & about to go through labor & delivery with him.

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