Six years ago I was blissfully pregnant, looking forward to the arrival of my little Brody. We had bought his crib and had decided on which bedding to order. A sweet family member of Chris' had planned a baby shower for us at their family reunion, held on Memorial Day weekend every year. We had registered, we were so excited about him. We loved him with all we had, though he had not yet been born. I felt his kicks, I felt his rolls. Daddy would talk to him and lay his hand on my tummy to feel him respond. We were past the "danger zone". We were supposed to be able to bring him home. Little did I know that just a few days later our world would fall apart. Everything we knew about life changed when they told us our little boy no longer had a heartbeat, and that we would be delivering a dead baby.
We never made it to the family reunion, instead, we delivered our little boy. Perfect in every way, except he had no heartbeat. My body had decided to take that from him. My body, it betrayed me. and cut off his blood supply.
You just don't know what losing a baby is like until it happens. People seem to think you need to just "get over it" or "move on". Just let me tell you this: you can't.