Giving Birth to a Sleeping Angel

Wednesday started as a normal day. 11:30 am I had finished teaching my classes at our home school co-op and was helping in the nursery when one of the other helpers handed me a baby, "mind holding onto her?"

"Of course not." I smiled into her round, sweet eyes. I dropped my gaze and attention with fondness to my nearly 37 week bump, and at that moment the realization hit me. She hasn't been moving. I searched my memory...when had I felt her last? I didn't know. My womb felt so still.

Several hours later the doctor holding the ultrasound probe is saying "I'm so sorry." My husband is holding my hand. The last shreds of hope evaporate. I can't breath.

Thursday night we drive to the hospital to begin the induction. I haven't been able to sleep or eat. I feel my heart go numb. I want to stay numb forever. I don't want to face the pain of the loss.

I hear the cry of a baby from one of the other L&D rooms and my heart shatters, because my daughter will never cry. I'll never nurse her or rock her to sleep. Never feel her tiny fingers wrap around mine, never look into her eyes or see her smile. Already gone to heaven, my Angel will be born sleeping.