I don’t understand. I’m laying here in the hospital in shock. STILL, even though my husband and I were told when we first got here on Friday morning that our baby girl only has a 5% chance of surviving the genetic abnormalities that my 11 week ultrasound shows. She has a cyst on her back, and she’s surrounded in way too much amniotic fluid. Both are very rare conditions, but with very high mortality rates. The doctors keep telling me that I didn’t do anything wrong and that the unfortunate truth is that my poor baby girl just got unlucky. But it was my job to protect her. My body failed to provide a safe sanctuary for her. And now she’s going to die. A “waiting game”, that’s what one of the hospitalists called my hospital stay. A game?! I DONT WANT TO PLAY THIS FUCKING GAME ANYMORE. I’ve lost two beautiful fetuses in one year “playing” this game. I’m forever saddened. We just found out her sex on Thursday. We picked her name that night: Zoey Penelope. Her first name means life. A tragic irony considering she will never get to experience hers. I feel her slipping away from me even though I know that odds are her heart has already stopped beating since this afternoon’s ultrasound that showed my baby girl struggling. Fighting. Her tiny little heart was overworking. She was terrified. I could do nothing but cry for her. My dear Zoey, I named you life and when yours ends so will mine. Make the pain stop.