Told by: Tiffani
I found I was pregnant when my daughter was 22 months old. We had not intended to have babies so close together, but we were thrilled. We hadn’t told anyone except my husband’s sister, who guessed that I was pregnant. We were going to wait until the first trimester was over. I lost that wee baby, Angel, at 6 weeks on September 28th. It was devastating after having a perfectly normal pregnancy with my daughter, it never occurred to me that I would lose a baby. We decided to try again as soon as possible. Thanksgiving Day I found out I was pregnant again. Because of a previous loss I was seen immediately by the ob, instead of having to wait. The first ultrasound showed I was 7 weeks 2 days. We were nervous, but excited. I knew right away that it was a boy. Everyone else swore it would be another girl. But I knew I was right. At 16 weeks I started to bleed. The ob said it was normal, just don’t have sex or run. I went to the ER a week later passing large clots and having contractions 5 minutes apart. I was given an ultrasound, the baby was fine. It’s a boy! The ER doctor said I had a placenta previa. I was sent home and told to be on partial bed rest until I could see my ob. She saw me three days later and said everything looked fine but insisted on sending me to the hospital for another ultrasound because there was no record of the one from the ER. The tech said it looked like a marginal previa not complete. So the hope was that if I stayed on complete bed rest that it would move as things grew. The bleeding continued and got heavier every time the baby moved. He was right down on top of my cervix all the time. He liked to roll over and push his back out, like he was stretching. I would rub him when he did that, I think he liked it. At 19 weeks I went to labor and delivery with more contractions five minutes apart. They monitored me for a few hours and sent me home again. When I asked the ob to give me something to stop the contractions she said,”I can’t. It’s not at the age of viability. There is nothing I can do.” So I went home to bed rest again. The contractions came every night. Each night they were closer together. At 20 weeks 2 days, March 14th, I knew I was in real labor. I waited until the contractions were 3 minutes apart before leaving for the hospital. It takes 45 minutes to get there from where I live. My mother-in-law drove me so my husband could stay with our daughter until she woke up, it was 6am. Half way there I thought my water broke. By then the contractions were two minutes apart. When we finally got to the hospital it was one constant contraction. They took me up to labor and delivery. My ob was not on call. I was thankful that she wasn’t, I probably would have kicked her in the face after the way she treated me the last time. The OB on call was very kind. She read my chart, then searched for Liam’s heartbeat. She couldn’t find it. So she tried an ultrasound. He was already gone. She said she would do an internal exam to see what was going on. He was right there ready to be pushed out. The doctor and nurse and my mother-in-law all held me and we cried together. She told me to take my time and let her know when I was ready to push. After she delivered my sweet Liam she said it was not my water that had broken, his amniotic sac was still intact. It was just a lot of blood that had built up behind the placenta that I felt. I had a placental abruption. That was the reason for all the bleeding. Sometimes they start small and get larger until they tear completely away. She believed that I must have had a complete previa and it turned into an abruption before the previa was even diagnosed. There was no way he could have survived it. By that time my husband had made it to the hospital, he left our daughter with his sister. His mom left us to go help her and give us some privacy. The staff let us keep him with us as long as we wanted. The nurse washed and dressed him and took pictures of him for us. She even took us off of the maternity ward so that I wouldn’t be upset by seeing other babies. We kept him with us most of the day. We had already decided that his first name would be William for my husband’s father, but he would be called Liam. We hadn’t decided on a middle name yet. As he held his son my husband said, “Edward. William Edward.” It was perfect. He was perfect. He looked exactly like his sister. The same hands and feet, same nose. We had him cremated, now his ashes are with us. Perhaps someday we will bury or spread the ashes somewhere. For now though I’ll keep him near me.