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The books say that we love to talk about our babies. I know I still do - both of them. This is the long version...


My first preganancy in 2005 was through IVF. In 2007, the nursing was over and we had tried a bit. I went to see our specialist about going through another battery of tests, poking and prodding.

At work, my friend J finally stopped me - and asked if something was up. How was I feeling? Was I trying?

I'm in my office telling her that my period was late, but I'm sure it's nothing. She tells me to take a pregnancy test. I tell her it would be a miracle birth, like the virgin mary. I'm catholic, I should know.

I go to the pharmacy, take the test in the work bathroom stall to appease her. I am pregant. Naturally. "Spontaneously" as they call it in the medical profession. Amazing. She is the first to know, my husband is the second. I give him the stick to prove my . I finally get the dream of going through the excitement of those first few moments, peeing on a stick, like a 'normal' pregnant lady.

I buy my husband and daughter the followup to our favorite pirate book: Pirates Don't Change Diapers!

It turns out to be a worrisome time. I'm worried about work. I'm tired at home. I'm not sure where this baby will go to daycare, where it will sleep, how to fit the crib in my first daughter's room. We can't decide on names. We're so tired we can't stay up late nights to figure it out. My beloved daycare provider tells me there will indeed not be a slot. I'm angry with my doctor for telling me that it's too bad I won't have a scheduled c-section. I switch to a midwife who is highly recommended.

I go to my midwife appointment. The heartbeat is good. I have a baby shower. And another baby shower. I go to my midwife appointment. I worry at work.

40 weeks. Thursday after Halloween, late at night, something is up. When did I last feel movement? Sunday? Wednesday? I'm not even sure. I've been so busy. I stay up late. I drink orange juice. I pray. I am on vigil. I finally sleep a little and get myself ready for my doctor's apointment. I pretend that it's nothing, but I'm rattled. No movement, still.

The next morning, at my appointment. I tell them I'm concerned. They say I should have called as soon as I noticed. No heartbeat. I go to the hospital. I meet my husband A there. I am told that I have give birth to a baby that is not alive. We are no longer the same people we were the day before.

On November 4, 2007, Grace Catherine was born, named after cousins on my dad's side who took good care of him after his parents passed away. And named so that her name could be out there with us in the world, even if she could not.