As far back as I can remember, I have always wanted a family more than anything in the world. In 2007, my fiancé and I had decided to begin trying for a baby.  Months later, I was late for my period and decided we needed to take a test.  I vividly remember sitting in my room, waiting more than anxiously to read the results. We were both elated when the results were positive. We shed tears of joy together and headed out to meet his parents for Easter dinner with a definite pep in our step and smiling inside about our little secret.

Monday morning, I walked into work feeling like a different woman. I was cradling my belly and feeling “not alone” for the first time in my life.  I felt a sense of peace that was very unfamiliar to me. Someone is with me and inside of me. We were together and one.  I had a beautiful little baby that I will always have to love and care for. The comfort I felt in that was indescribable. I had a permanent smile in my heart.

After transitioning through my first trimester, I began taking the necessary steps in preparing for our new baby. We signed a lease for a two bedroom condo which was close to both of our families.  We decided to move out of the city. I was taking my prenatal vitamins and going to all of my doctor’s appointments. Everything was falling into place.   I shared our news with friends, family and co-workers.  My belly was growing every day and I loved my bump.

Father’s day was approaching and I thought that there would be no better idea than to do a gender reveal for my fiancé on father’s day! At 20 weeks, I made an appointment to take Jimmy to the OBGYN to reveal the sex of our baby. I don’t think I have ever been so excited in my life. As we waited in the lobby, I imagined taking home the little ultrasound photos they will give us with “it’s a girl” written across the photo. What a perfect day! Finally are names were called. We headed to the back room and the ultrasound was amazing. We were indeed having a girl! Our baby girl had grown so much and she was very actively moving around. They had her ultrasound projected on the wall.  My heart was full.  Then I realized the nurse was silent, I turned to look at her and her expression was not one of someone revealing good news. She looked at me and said “I will be right back. I have to grab the physician”. My heart dropped into my stomach. I looked to Jimmy in a complete panicked frenzy. I knew something was wrong and the wait was grueling. After what seemed to have been hours, the doctor came in and told us something was wrong. Our baby had Cystic Hygroma, which affected the baby’s heart, the chances of her living full term were slim to none.  Immediate confusion set in. He moved us out of the room into a genetic specialist’s office. The genetic specialist brought out a pamphlet and rattled off some facts about the disease.  I heard none of it. I had run out of the building in my own head, but was unable to physical move.

After extremely careful consideration, we had decided to go forward with an advanced D&E. We had not been home since the doctor’s appointment. We checked into a different hotel every night. I was unable to face anyone or answer any questions. I could not fathom seeing the look of pity or sadness in anyone’s eyes when they looked at me. In addition, I was still technically walking around with a baby in my belly that only I knew would shortly be taken. I remember going to the store during that time and the woman at the check-out counter ask how far along I was. This was gut wrenching. I put myself in complete isolation from the public. I was not mentally strong enough to deal with anyone but Jimmy. He was the only one that understood.

After weeks of hiding and painful surgery prep, the day had arrived. I was put on a surgical table and put under completely full only to wake up completely empty.  When I opened my eyes post-surgery, a man with a clip board approached me immediately. “Can you please sign this form as we need to know what your wishes are in handling your baby’s remains?” I was extremely drowsy from the anesthesia and was incapable of making any decisions and especially of that importance level.

When I was cleared to leave, I was wheeled out to go home .Upon arrival, I carried on with my normal life routine per usual. My fiancé could not stop praising how strong I was. I was not. I wasn’t grieving appropriately. My family did not say anything of comfort or acknowledgment to me.  However, my grandfather did mention that if I ever put him through this experience again, he would disown me.  I realize he is from an old school generation, but it really hurt me.  At this time, I needed hugs and kind words, not the “if we don’t talk about it, it didn’t happen” attitude my family had. I felt very alone and more than anything empty physically and emotionally.

After a few weeks of getting back into the swing of things, a pattern developed. I would go to work and every day and at 3 o’clock on the dot I would have a panic attack. I would shake and lose my mental focus completely. I would lose my vision and become dizzy.  This created an intense urge to get somewhere safe and isolated.  I progressively started getting nervous about more and more. I was having trouble going to the grocery store without running out prior to paying for my food.  This evolved into being scared to leave the house in general. I soon realized I needed help.  These symptoms were the consequence of not dealing with my grief. Emotions that weren’t dealt with, that I had stuffed so far inside of me and needed to be released.  I was not as strong as everyone had thought, I was human. I did lose my baby and I needed to address it. If I didn’t do it in a healthy way, the feelings were clearly going to come out in an unhealthy way.

I decided to call my doctor to find out where my daughter was buried. That day I took a trip to visit her grave. When I got there, I dropped to my knees and all of the emotions I had kept inside came pouring out instantly. I dug my fingers in the dirt in attempt to get as close to her as I could.  I cried and told her how sorry I was. How sorry that my body couldn’t help her and neither could I. She needed me. I told her how sorry I was for pretending I didn’t care when I did. Lastly, I told her that no matter what happens in my life, she will always be special and my first little girl.

It has taken me this long to come out with my feelings regarding the loss of my daughter as this is something that is still very difficult for me to revisit. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my story. I am now blessed with a healthy 8 year old daughter. As far back as I can remember, I have always wanted a family more than anything in the world.  Now I have one and a special little angel looking down on us. There is hope after loss.

-Erin Crawford