I had felt an unusually hard movement at that time.  By morning I was convinced that something was drastically wrong.  By the time I got in to see the doctor it had been 24 hours since I felt any movement.  Although he couldn’t detect a fetal heartbeat, he believed the placenta was probably preventing such detection.  He sent me for x-rays and told me he would call me at home later that evening.  I already believed the baby was dead, but the obstetrician told my husband, on the phone that night, to keep me hopeful until delivery.  Due to my having had so many children, both my physicians agreed I must wait until the baby delivered naturally.  They were concerned that, emotionally, I could not handle knowing the baby had died, but my husband, as gently as possibly, told me the concerns of the doctors and why I had to carry the deceased baby until natural birth occurred.

As the days passed slowly, we did our best to prepare the children for the loss they too would suffer.  They, however, wouldn’t give up hope for eventually seeing their baby brother or sister.  Finally, on the evening of Mother’s Day, although I had been warned against doing anything to induce labor, I drank cod liver oil.  A month had been too long carrying a dead child.  I felt emotionally drained and physically worn and unable to carry the baby any longer.  It had been 10 months.

©Pat Montesano 2003 All Rights Reserved.