My due date is in little over a week. Six months ago, I was so excited for the end of May to arrive so I could meet my little bundle of joy. In our fallen world, things don't always go as smoothly as we'd want. This is the story of my second daughter's short four months on Earth.
In the last full week of September 2014, my daughter had a mild bug. She recovered by the end of the week and went off to Grandma’s house for the weekend. On Saturday September 27th, I felt really nauseous. I was worn out from comforting a sick child and I was worried I’d contracted her bug. Then I realized my breasts were quite tender. On our way home from a dinner date, I pulled into Walgreen’s and bought a pregnancy test.
In the three years that we’d been trying to get pregnant I’d taken dozens of pregnancy tests. I finally quit taking them and I hadn’t taken one since June. But this time was different. This time, I got a plus instead of a minus. Three times. I was pregnant.
I had typical first trimester fatigue and nausea. I craved meat and potatoes all the time so I was just sure I was carrying a boy. We spent a Saturday in October sharing the good news with our family and the next day with our church family. We saw our baby on the ultrasound two different times. The second time the baby was smiling and waving at us. I was so happy!
At 2 am on Saturday, December 13th, I felt a small pop followed by a gush of water. I knew instantly that my water had broken. I was fifteen weeks pregnant and I knew it was too early for a baby to survive.
Waking my daughter and my husband, we drove the six blocks to the hospital. Two ultrasounds in two hours and it was determined my water had broken but the baby was still resting comfortably in my womb, with a strong heartbeat.
After two nights at the hospital and a visit to a specialist, I was told babies survive water breaking this early 5% of the time. The rest either deliver within two weeks or do not have developed enough lungs if they make it past 24 weeks.
I was sent home to wait. What could I do to improve my baby’s chances, I wanted to know. Nothing, I was told. There’s nothing anyone can do at this point except pray.
Despite the prayers of close to a thousand people, on December 22nd, I felt something in my birth canal. I knew instantly that I had touched a limb. At the hospital, I sent my husband into the waiting room so our daughter would not have to watch me deliver the dead baby she had been so excited to meet.
I delivered in the emergency room with two small pushes and Faith Leanne was born, never taking a single breath.
I was given my tiny baby girl, wrapped in a blanket with the smallest infant hat I’d ever seen. Faith was 3 ounces and 7 inches long. She was born at 3:50 pm. She lives with Jesus in Heaven.
I miss her every day.