June 26, 2011 was the worst day of my life.  That day I gave birth to the most gorgeous baby I have ever seen.  He was born dead.  I would never hear his cry, have his hand wrap around my finger, and I would never see him with his eyes open.
The day before I gave birth to Ian, I woke up very tired because the night before “the baby was lying hard on one side.”  I kept waking up to reposition him, but didn’t think much of it.  That Saturday, Rob and I took Ellie (2-years and 4 months) to the park. At nap time, I ran to Home Goods and had an awesome talk with my BFF.  We grilled out that night.  All day I kept mentioning that the baby hadn’t been moving much, in fact all week I had noticed differences win his movement.  I called all the usual’s and got the same message, the baby slows down when he is ready to be born.  I didn’t think much of it.  Having miscarried, I was always told if you make it past 12 weeks, you are safe…
Back to June 26, 2011.  The night before, after still not being able to get the baby to move  I called the Dr. who recommended going to the hospital. My mom came over to stay with Ellie.  As we left our subdivision a black cat ran in front of our car and Rob said “this is just our luck, that we would miscarry at this point.”  I laughed and reassured him that I was being paranoid.  I laughed with the nurses upon admission as well…It was not until nurse # 3 came in that I realized things were not looking good.  That is when we called our moms…they had the ultra sound tech come, and her face gave it all away was prepared for the worst when the doctor called (yes, called! He did  not even give us the news face to face!) Our baby was dead.  The next hour was a blur of a new nurse trying to explain, a seasoned nurse giving us  our choices…We could go home and wait to into labor (I was 38 weeks and days before my Doctor was going to induce) or I could be induced.
In the midst of it all, I asked my husband if we were losing a boy or girl. He had found out the sex and I wanted to be surprised, although I never imagined I would be surprised like this.
At 6 am on June 26, 2011 woke up from a bad dream to realize it was reality.  My mom, mother-in-law and husband were all sleeping in chairs around my hospital room, and I was hooked up to an IV to induce the birth of my dead son.  I reflected back to June 26, 2002 when my whole family waited anxiously for the birth of the first grandchild, my first dear niece.  What a different energy that was. But I also knew that my mom had to make the hard calls, my sisters needed to be there to meet Ian.  Giving birth to Ian was traumatic…The thoughts that first stand out id that the Dr. kept telling the nurse to up some medicine, “as we no longer have to take into account the wellbeing of the baby…” I understand that medically, but as a parent, I still had hope…so thank you Dr. X.  My other memories are of my dad trying to run into the delivery room, and the nurse yelling “we have a situation!”  Yes nurse; you do have a situation that my dad could not be a part of…give him some respect in this hard time. When I delivered Ian, they wanted to hand him to me; I pushed him away and screamed “I’m not ready!”
Would I ever be ready? To meet the baby who was so interactive in my womb, the baby Knew would be Ian or Faith, the baby I already loved more than life itself…Would I ever be ready to meet him, dead?  No…everyone held him.  My husband held him for hours. My closest friends came, and finally the deacon came to baptize Ian.  I held him then.  For no other reason but that I knew if I did not hold him I could never go back in time and do it.
We had a funeral, meals were left,cards tapered off…what was left was me with a daughter and husband who needed me…I still think that parenting in the time of loss is the most difficult thing,and no one guides us….

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