Something that still shakes me to my very core is how I never once, not once, thought that my daughter could be completely healthy, and yet die inside of me. Not when I was doing everything right - taking my prenatal vitamins, sleeping on my side, exercising but not too much, attending every doctor's appointment faithfully, not drinking, not smoking. Just counting down the days until she'd be here.
How I held my breath the whole first trimester. Then,
past the dangerous zones for miscarriage, phew! How I held my breath again
during that 20 week scan to make sure there were no abnormalities. And
how she was perfect, phew! How I said to Justin around 28 weeks, "she
could live outside the womb now and be okay!" Phew! We were home free.
She just always seemed like a sure thing. I had no doubt in mind that she would be arriving soon. I had no doubt that she'd be alive.
And all the people who perpetuated this lie. All the random strangers who asked my due date. All my friends who bought her clothes. My colleagues, as we planned my maternity leave. My doctor, who talked endlessly about our scheduled c-section but never once said, "If her heart continues to beat until then..."
I believed that because I was healthy and low-risk, my baby would be alive when she was born.
Some people have asked about trying for a healthy child, and
that irks me. Because my daughter was completely healthy, she was just
dead. Perhaps they mean I should try for an alive child?