We didn't count on how the stress of moving, finding a place to live, and settling our first son into school was going to affect this pregnancy. At about 4 weeks, I developed morning sickness--something I hadn't experienced before. Between that, my very active preschooler, and the tiredness, I was miserable. At times I even wished for an end to this child. I deeply regret these feelings.

At 19 weeks, I had a routine ultrasound and learned we were having our 3rd boy. Some placenta previa was detected, but the tech was convinced this would fix itself as it grew.

Three months later, I had another ultrasound. The previa was still present. About this time, my sister-in-law had her third son. Another sister-in-law had her first. Her son had complications, but he would be fine with surgery. I was excited that our son would have cousins so close in age.

A month after the second ultrasound, I had a third and learned that the previa was now gone! Yippee! No C-section! By this time I was attatched to the little guy, and felt he had his own distinct personality. We bought a new stroller and diaper bag, as his brothers had worn out the others.

On Valentine's Day, my husband and I went out to dinner, relieved that there were only 6 days until my due date. We looked forward to the ward activity the next night. I was happy but tired.

Sunday the 16th, I woke up unusually tired. While I showered, I went off balance and a second later the baby hit the neck of the womb. I thought this was kind of weird, but didn't think anything of it as I was getting ready for church.

After the first hour, I went home too tired to think. After my husband and the boys got home, we ate dinner and talked about the baby. He asked me if I'd felt him move. I couldn't think when the last time was, so I finished eating and lay down. I'd read that doing this would get the baby moving if he was being quiet.

After about 2 hours I felt no movement. We called the hospital and they told us to come in. We called my visiting teacher and dropped our sons off at her house. On the way, we were hopeful, trying not to think the worst, though we knew it was a possibility.

We went staight to labor & delivery, where a nurse tried to find a heartbeat. She couldn't, so another nurse tried. They brought in an ultrasound machine and a doctor took over from there. I could see no movement on the monitor, and the nurse had a look of shock on her face. That doctor didn't sound hopeful as he went to find two more experienced OB's. After they saw the ultrasound, they confirmed our suspicions--our son was dead.

We didn't know what to do next, so we called the bishop and my visiting teacher. After praying, we decided to go home and tell our boys, then come back the next day so I could be induced.

After being in the hospital for about 16 hours, our son was born with no fanfare. They took him away to clean him up, then brought him back later so we could see him. A couple of hours after that, my visiting teacher, who had looked after the boys again, brought them to the hospital so they could see their brother. She shared with us that while they were at her house, she felt the presence of a third boy there playing with the others. This comforted us greatly.

After being in the hospital for only 24 hours, I left with empty arms. If we hadn't had a very supportive OB and L&D nurse, our experience would have hurt more, I'm sure. My visiting teachers took care of us, and we had meals brought in before we left to bury him and after we came back. Our ward members have been very supportive, and our families as well. We definetly felt the hand of God as we made arrangements to bury our son 3,000 miles away in Utah. Everything fell into place.

Since then, I have found comfort in many ways. I've read many grief support books and talked with others who have experienced a similar loss. Reading the stories on this site has helped me have the courage to finally write my story. Even though I sometimes still ache when I see newborn babies, my recovery had been nothing short of miraculous, considering I also have a history of postpartum depression. Even though I would prefer to have my son with us, I know he was needed for another mission. I feel comfort in knowing he is with my departed relatives and my Heavenly Father. I don't know where I would be without the knowledge of the gospel. Thank you for letting me share my story.

Ane
Mililani, Hawaii