It was November of 2015, when my husband and I found out that we were expecting our second child. After nearly a year of trying to conceive, it finally happened, and we couldn’t have been happier.

The next 9 months went off without a hitch. Every four weeks we’d go to the doctor, and every four weeks we’d have the same experience: they would tell us how healthy I was, how we had a healthy baby, make small talk, listen to the heartbeat, and send us on our way. Never any reason to be alarmed, never even the slightest worry.

We found out we were having our second boy, Everett, and our 4 year old son was particularly excited. Every time we went to the store he wanted to choose a toy to give his baby brother. He would talk to his baby brother every day, and would squeal with excitement when he saw or felt him kick. 

My due date came around, July 15th, 2016. As usual, we went to the doctor for our checkup. Same old, same old. Strong heartbeat, moving nonstop, all we had to do was wait for the contractions to start. The next morning, I began having contractions. I spent the majority of the day cleaning, organizing, and counting the minutes between contractions. That evening, when my contractions were regular, and I was sure I was in labor, I called my doctor. She asked me all the normal questions, how many minutes between contractions, how strong or painful were they, had he been moving regularly… which I hadn’t really thought about. Yes, he had been moving, not nearly as much as normal, but I had been told that once labor begins, often times the baby stops moving as much because they are lowering into the birthing position. We were told to meet her at the hospital, and we left our house with the expectation of holding our brand new baby boy in our arms within the next few hours.

We were checked into the maternity ward. We were lead to a room where they would run a few tests, determine the progress of my labor, and get us settled into a labor and delivery room. After being hooked up to all the different monitors, the nurses kept joking that “you and this baby are going to be extra close! You’ve got the same heart rate!” When my doctor arrived was when we knew that something was wrong. She appeared worried, but didn’t tell us why. She told us to prepare for an emergency c-section, which was, at the time, my biggest fear. An ultrasound technician came into the room, pushed the cart up next to us, and started to examine me. On the screen was Everett, settled perfectly into the birthing position… but something wasn’t right… she pointed at his chest and said, “This is where his heartbeat is supposed to be, and I’m sorry to say there isn’t one.” Then turned off the machine, and walked out without another word. It felt like our entire world just came to a screeching halt in that moment. Everything became a blur. What followed can only be described as pure torture. I spent the next 16 hours in labor, knowing that I would be giving birth to a baby that would not cry, would not open his eyes, would not take his first breath, or curl his warm little body into my chest, as I had imagined. When Everett was finally born, I couldn’t shake the shock, the sick feeling in my stomach, none of it felt real. Thanks to a cooling cot that was provided to us by a local non-profit, we were able to keep him in the room with us for the duration of our stay, but never got to bring our baby home, as we had dreamed.

I still barely remember the days that followed. However, I can remember every detail about going to the funeral home. I kept thinking to myself that we shouldn’t be there, it didn’t make sense. 

They were never able to determine a cause for what happened, as far as they could tell, his heart just stopped. No explanation… and I don’t know if having an explanation would have made it any better. I feel like I stopped being the person I used to be the minute the ultrasound technician left the room.

This past November, 2016, we found out that we were pregnant again. A total surprise to us. Our third baby boy is due in July of 2017, within days of Everett’s first birthday. Although I am completely terrified at the thought of something going wrong, it comforts me to believe that Everett played a part in sending us something to bring back into our hearts some of the joy that we lost when we lost him.