We are two days in our grief from losing our baby girl. She was fifteen weeks gestation, but her little hands had nails, her little toes had nails, you could she her eyes shut peacefully. I’m going to post a picture of her, so just a warning that this is graphic and is what a still born birth looks like at 15 weeks.

My journey started so simple the morning of the 10th of January. I slept in late while my husband took our son to preschool. I told him I wanted up by 8, he laughed when I was still sound sleep at 8:30. I got up, half reluctant to leave my bed, half excited to ask the doctor if we were going to do an ultra sound at 19 weeks or if he was going to make me wait until 23 weeks. We drove in excited silence, holding hands. When we got there, we did our usual check in and we waited. We talked about hearing her heart beat and what she would look like, when I would start feeling her. We were called back, I stepped on the scale and I was down another pound. I even joked with the nurse that I should have gotten pregnant sooner so I could lose weight (not from morning sickness, I always got really nauseous but never sick). We were taken back to our room and we waited, as usual, but not for long. Our nurse came in and I told her that we hadn’t heard from the specialist yet and it had been two weeks (she was given a 50 percent chance of having Turners Syndrome). She said it was due to billing. She tried to find a heartbeat but couldn’t. I laughed nervously because last time, she was hard to find but she was there. This time, I was hoping the same. The doctor grabbed his bedside sonogram thing which was cool, after our “how’re you feeling” usual talk. His face grew quite serious before he sent me over to the sonogram tech. She was talking to me the whole time. But I noticed that Liliana wasn’t moving. She noticed I was referring to baby at “her” and asked me how I knew. I told her the genetic testing and she said “and what did you find” which later, as I think about it, was her seeing Liliana’s body and noticing something was wrong. So I told her that she had a 50 percent chance of having Turners Syndrome. She nodded slowly before putting everything back and saying “the baby has no heartbeat. I’m so sorry”. It was in those moments that all my fears came alive. All of her problems that she COULD have had, she had. And more. My doctor took us into his office and told us that I was going to be giving birth naturally to her and that it would take 8-12 hours. We left in tears to get some things, called family and friends who met us up there, and we did it. We started at 12:30 P and she was born at 7:55 P on 1/10/19. Here’s a picture of our sweet, beautiful baby girl. Her name was Liliana Rose Campbell. She was 1.1 ounces, and 5 inches long. She died from TS. And I have so many questions as to why. So many women have TS and lived, why did mine have to die? What caused her death was the cyst on the back of her neck. It caused her head and neck to never fully connect together. But right when we were in the clear of miscarriage? Her face is so peaceful, as if she’s sleeping. The reality of her death didn’t hit he until I saw her limp in a nurses hand. I remember just screaming out for her, crying. Wanting to hold her and tell her that I loved her and that I was so so so sorry.

So this was my 15 week journey, my time spent with our little girl. Tomorrow, I have to go to the funeral home and sign her off to be cremated. Miscarriage is hard, and I would have preferred that than having to choose to cremate my child. I hope she’s up in heaven, watching over her big brother who would have loved her so incredibly much and asks us if he too can go to heaven so he can see his sister. It’s safe to say that this is the most heart broken I’ve ever been, and knowing that just three days ago, I was 15 weeks pregnant and feeling so excited that I was almost half way there to being here, crying in a shower, feeling so empty and like a piece of my heart is gone and will never come back.

We are going to TTC when everything is said and over. But a baby lost is a baby lost.

Here is our baby. Blurred for TMI as this is graphic and hard to look at it.