My last post left you with me cooking pork chops. I was really just in denial and trying to keep things in a normal mode. It didn't work. The atmosphere at home was very somber. Finally, the call came from my doctor with my test results. Nothing conclusive, but since I was due he wanted me in the hospital the next morning. He would meet us in the ER for one last exam to detect any baby movement. I told him I did feel the baby moving around, just no kicks. He said that was just the baby floating around, not actually moving, but he would try for a heartbeat the next morning.
I remember "Happy Days" being on the TV. We tried watching that. My in-laws came over and we all had a good cry. They left and James went to bed. I could not begin to think of sleeping. I walked around in my nightgown just rubbing my belly. This could well be the last night I had my baby with me and I was going to make every second count. I rocked him in our favorite chair and I prayed liked I have never prayed before. My nose was stopped up from my constant crying. Wet spots were on my nightgown from the flow of tears. Oh please kick me dear baby! Give me a sign that you are alive! I sang, "Jesus Loves Me" over and over even changing the words to Jesus Loves You My Sweet Baby. I read to my baby, showed him all of his stuffed aninals, played his mobile to him over and over as if I would never use it again. I put on my lavender robe with short sleeves (it was late April) with the pretty pink trim. My belly was really showing my full term baby sticking out. I looked at myself in the mirror to memorize how I looked pregnant. Then in the wee hours of night, I sat down to rock and pray some more. I remember saying over and over to Jesus that He loved the little children. I remembered a picture from my Bible with Jesus in a white robe surrounded by the the little children of all ages. I bargined with Jesus that if he would only let my baby be alive I would be the best mother ever. Oh how I pleaded! Then all of a sudden, a bluish mist appeared in the room. It seemed to have come from the air-conditioner unit. All I can honestly say is that I knew this was from above. I didn't actually see anything but this mist or hear an actual voice, but there was absolutely no doubt that I was hearing Jesus in my soul or mind telling me that my baby was already dead. He told me that the doctors would not find a heartbeat. That was all. I believed for sure now that my baby was dead. Tomorrow would be just a formality. I knew Jesus had heard my prayers, but I wasn't going to get the answer I wanted to hear. I cried my heart out while James slept in the other room. This child that I had carried under my heart for the past 9 months would be delivered to me dead. I can not begin to ever described the pain that was consuming every fiber of my being.