The Quiet Pain of Stillborn Birth: One Mom Shares Her Story

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Miami Moms Blog desires to bring awareness, support and encouragement to Moms throughout Miami by inviting Moms to share their personal stories. We are grateful for the women who have chosen to vulnerably  write about their own experiences with love and loss in hopes of strengthening other Moms who may have also walked this road. This Guest Post from Allison, this an honest depiction of experiencing a stillborn birth. Thank you for sharing your story. 

February 19th, 2013.

There is a before and after in my life. Before Amelia Kate, and after Amelia Kate. That day my life was changed forever.

My 4th healthy pregnancy and upcoming delivery of a happy and healthy baby was abruptly changed when I heard the words no mother should hear, “I’m so sorry, she’s gone.” I had no clue a baby could die at 40 weeks, especially with no other conditions or complications.

Then to hear I must deliver…a dead baby. My baby.

There is no fathoming of this unless you have been there. Your body goes numb and you go through the motions. The delivery is silent, no cries at the finish. She molds to your body like a “normal” newborn, and all you want to do is to breathe life back into her.

“I am at a hospital, why can’t they do anything!” The things you witness as your baby’s body continues to change in front of your eyes is very hard to talk about, but very hard to keep inside as well.

My beautiful baby girl.

Then to “decide” when to give her up for the nurse to take her away, FOREVER. A decision no mother should have to make. Then to return home to baby outfits, strollers, cribs, and other things you thought the day before you would be using any day now. To be afraid to walk into the grocery store because someone might ask you where the baby is. To run into someone you haven’t seen even 2 years later and them to ask you where the baby is that you were carrying the last time they saw you.

The support of family and friends carries you through. The friend that sends a card on her “date” every month for the first year to let you know she remembers. At first you just put one foot in front of the other, and over time you begin to smile and live again.

I will always long for that baby girl, that is part of being a mom.

But I have also learned how to relate to others’ losses due to my experience, to say the names, ask questions. After loss people want to know that they are not alone, to help them carry that heavy burden of sadness. To acknowledge that it is hard and stinks. To listen. Those were the most helpful things to me.

Now 5 years later, it still stings. There will always be a little girl that I long to see, long to watch grow up, long to hug and kiss. And that was my moment. Those 4 hours with a beautiful little girl named Amelia Kate. I treasure and hate those moments with her. They were both horrible and beautiful. I long for the day we are reunited.