My name is Ashley. My husband and I have two girls who are 2 and 4.
When we found out we were pregnant with our third, we jokingly called her our "real baby". Our plan when we got married was to wait til late 20s to start having kids when we were financially stable and such... We are only just there, thus she was the baby who fit in our original plan.
We were able to do the gender reveal ultrasound at 16 weeks. I was waiting in the office with my two girls, fuming b/c my husband was late. He came rushing through the door with a bouquet of pink and blue flowers for me. When the doctor told us it was a girl, we grinned. We are really good at girls. We decided to name her Anneliese.
We found out right at the same time that we would be moving out of state a few weeks later. I wasn't able to do my 20 weeks scan until 22 weeks, as we had been out of town finding a house and such. The day of my appointment, my mom came with me, b/c my husband had to stay at the house and meet the movers. The plan was to have my ultrasound, pack up, and move 1,000 miles away the next day.
My doctor came in, asked me how I was. I mentioned I hadn't felt her move much, but I probably had an anterior placenta like I did with my middle daughter. He confirmed that I did have an anterior placenta. I didn't like the look on his face, but I dismissed it. It didn't take long before he said, "There's never a good time for this, but the baby didn't make it." He handed me a box of tissues. Instead of crying, though, I just sat there repeating, "It's okay. It's okay. It's better this way. It's okay." I work in a pediatric ICU, so I immediately assumed something was horribly worng with her. For her to die early was better than her be born with problems, get poked and prodded and intubated and have to go through surgeries and live in the hospital. My defense was to go into nurse mode and see it as a good thing she never had to experience anything like that.
I went in to the hospital that night to be induced. It was horrible. The nursery window was right next to the front desk. No one was at the front desk, so we stood there waiting as gobs of people crowded around the nursery window and excitedly talked about their newest family member. I was asked by another pregnant woman if I was there for the hospital tour. I just said no. She looked at me questioningly, but I didn't want to ruin her innocence by telling her I was there to deliver my dead baby. I used to believe that babies were safe inside their mamas. I didn't want to take that away from her.
The really horrible thing about this is that you can't move on. Like, I wish he could have told me my baby died, and then I would have cried and been sad, but it woul dhave been over and I would have started moving forward. Instead, he told me that. I cried all day. We went into the hospital, and I cried b/c we didn't need to bring a car seat with us. They placed the first dose of cytotec, and I cried b/c there was no going back. I fell asleep for a few hours and escaped. When I woke up the next morning, I cried some more when I realized it was real. She was born around 9 am, and I just sat in bed covering her with my gown crying. "I can't look at her yet. Please don't make me!" I cried when I held her. I cried when I had to let her go for the last time. So then you think you can start moving forward, right?
Wrong. The next morning, we had to go to the funeral home. So I cried some more. Then we got in our car and started driving towards our new home, and I cried b/c my belly was flat. Then my milk came in. Then her ashes arrived. Then the pathologist called and told us it was a cord accident. I had to start the grieving process all over. Before, I could comfort myself that it was better this way...but then we found out she was perfect. She was absolutely perfect, but she suffocated inside me.
It's now been 6 weeks. I feel like maybe I'm starting to move on, but next weekend, we're flying back to my husband's family's ranch to bury Anneliese. And it's all going to hit me again.