On October 15th many people across the country recognized Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. For me it was a moment to reflect on what is still the most difficult experience I’ve ever encountered.

In 2006, I discovered I was pregnant with my first child. Initially I was shocked because I wasn’t trying to get pregnant, but I was also instantly elated. I began daydreaming about what he or she might look like. Would she have my hair? Her father’s nose? My daddy’s eyes? What would we name the baby? What kind of personality will the baby have? What will he or she grow up to be?

As many parents do, we waited for a period of time before sharing our news. This was not for fear of anything going wrong, but for me it was just exciting to have this little secret that constantly made me smile. The time came when we finally decided to share our news with our family and closest friends.

Shortly after sharing, I began to spot (bleed) a little. I wasn’t experiencing any pain and it was only a little blood. However, we were scheduled to leave on a cruise in a couple of days, so I thought I should go see the doctor before we left. I bounced into her office still full of joy and happy thoughts expecting a good report.

Perhaps I was naïve, but I honestly did not think anything serious was going on. As the doctor conducted my ultrasound and looked at the screen, I knew by the look on her face that my life was about to change. When she told me that my baby no longer had a heartbeat, I felt like I had died inside.

I was in denial and requested for another doctor to check me because surely this one didn’t know what she was doing. But the report didn’t change. Over the next couple of days as we waited for the fetus to actually pass I cried more than I ever have about anything.

My emotions ranged from hurt and disappointment to complete anger. I was very mad at God because I hadn’t even asked for this baby; so I didn’t understand why He would allow me to get pregnant and then allow this to happen.

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