November 28

November 28. The day my life changed forever. I woke up that morning without a care in the world and ended it with a trip to the hospital to meet my daughter for the first time, leaving my little boy behind, tucked safely in his bed, while his grandparents waited and watched over him as he slept. I can't look at the calendar and see that date without a flood of emotions. I am transported back in time. I can see everything as if on a movie screen. What I was wearing, the lighting in the room, making sure I had everything I needed before we left, hugging my parents. I remember the drive. I can go there in my memory and be there in my mind. Parking at the hospital. Walking into the lobby. Sitting in a chair breathing through my contractions. I can be there as if it was happening now. Asking my husband to go back to the car to get the things I forgot. Walking to the elevator and pressing the button. Waiting. Arriving on the labor and delivery floor. Excitement in my heart, pain in my abdomen. Breathing. Filling out the paperwork. Excitement, pain, fear. Going back into the examination room. Taking off my clothes. Patting my pregnant belly. Smiling. So happy. So excited. So much pain. Putting on the gown. Watching the nurse. Cold gel on my stomach. Doppler rubbing across my abdomen. Static. Joking--it's okay she does that all the time. Silence. She has to go get the doppler. Fear and uncertainty. Panic. My heart beating practically out of my chest. I can hear my heartbeat. I can see the room. I just close my eyes and I can relieve every moment. The ultrasound. No movement. She has to go get the doctor. Something's wrong. Praying. Waiting. Dr. Brady comes in. No color. Death. She's gone. November 29. 2:00 in the morning and I am going to deliver my dead baby. Devastation. The rest is a blur ...