When I walked in the door from the doctor, Dan knew something was wrong by the look on my face and the tears in my eyes. How in the world was I suppose to tell him that I was pregnant... Well needless to say, I did not have to say a word, he just knew. I was so excited and Dan, well to be honest, was not. The next few weeks were really stressful on us. Life is full of the unexpected, but God...this was unexpected. It was hard to not show how excited I truly was when Dan was around because he was not happy about me getting pregnant so easily. If you ask him, he will tell you all that I type. In fact, he will tell you that he was pretty harsh and mean about me being pregnant. With all of that said, nothing, nothing, nothing, that has happened to us this past year is anybody's fault. As we have found out, things are not in our hands. I was really sick during my first trimester, in fact I lost 15 pounds. I was taking really good care of myself and doing all of the things I should have been doing the year before I got pregnant. Dan was traveling quite a bit for his job, which is not normal. We had a really bad storm the night of May 15, 2008. I was freaking out just a bit, being at home alone and pregnant. The next morning I woke up and just didn't feel right. I can't really explain how I felt - I had no "symptoms" of miscarrying our baby...something was just not right. I went to work, but called my doctor to see if I could get in for an appointment that afternoon to reassure myself that everything was OK. Dan was on his way back into town, so I made a late afternoon appointment. Dan came home, picked me up, and off to the doctor we went. After I described what I thought was going on with me to my doctor she scheduled a sonogram. As I lay on the table getting that goopy junk squirted all over my belly - I was so relieved that I had a caring doctor that was willing to reassure me that everything was just fine.As the baby appeared on the screen, I could tell the baby wasn't moving. I told the guy, the baby is not moving? Where is the heartbeat? There is no heartbeat - at this time I was hitting Dan so that he could look for the heartbeat. Ellison, our sono tech, said, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. "What??? Are you kidding me? This doesn't happen to people like me (whatever that means). I was sobbing so loud they moved me to another room. When they opened the door I felt everyone staring at me, many with tears in their eyes. I felt like I was in a dream, a nightmare. This is not happening...I remember saying that over and over again. I made Dan call my mom and dad, they were on their way. My doctor came in to talk to me about "options". I was into my second trimester, so the safest thing to do was to check into the hospital and deliver the baby. I begged her to do something else, but she said that if I wanted to leave the option open for another baby in the future, this was the safest way. Another baby...I want this baby. Our doctor prayed with us and we left to go to the hospital. We checked into the hospital and waited. Everyone was very nice. They put me in the "back" of the delivery area, so I didn't have to be around all of the new babies. They started the medicine to help me deliver my dead child. How did I get here right now I kept thinking in my head. I will not go into much more detail except to tell you I delivered our daughter, Brynn Collette Walker, (we found out we had a little girl after delivery) around 2:30am. I remember my doctor asking me if I wanted to hold her...of course I did. I wanted to see her. She was the most perfect little girl ever. She was a whopping six inches long and did not weigh a pound yet, but she was a perfect baby. I can't really remember the whole picture of her, but I remember parts. I remember her perfect little ears and tiny little hands. I remember that I was so surprised how she looked like a newborn, except so tiny. I remember telling her how sorry I was and that I loved her so much. Then they took her away and in came the hospital minister to pray with us. I don't remember much after that. I don't remember a lot of the next few months except crying and not caring if I was alive or dead. We left the hospital Saturday afternoon. The hospital gave us a box with some things in it - a card signed by the nurses, a blanket, and a copy of Brynn's tiny footprints. They were the size of a Barbie Doll's feet. The hospital offers to cremate children that pass away and then sprinkle their ashes in their butterfly garden, but I did not want to leave her there. We decided to have her cremated and bring her home to our house. On Sunday, as my best friend was checking into the hospital to deliver her daughter, Dan, my parents, and I went to the funeral home to make arrangements to have Brynn cremated. My dad wanted to pay for the arrangements, but Dan would not let him. I still remember my husband saying, "At least let me pay for something for my little girl." The words still make me cry. We brought Brynn's ashes home a week later in a tiny little wooden box that one of my parent's friends made for us. I was so curious about how many ashes would be in there - only about 2 tablespoons, that is all we have of her. We had plans to sprinkle her ashes on a tree or bush that we would plant special for her at our house, but we still have not done that. I keep thinking what if we move, she will not be with us? So they are locked in our little safe. I have never showed anybody the little box, her ashes, nothing...not even my parents. Looking back, I am glad that I was "forced" to deliver my daughter. I am so lucky to have had the chance to hold her and tell her how much she was, she is loved. It might sound weird, but it did give me a little bit of closure.
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