My husband Rick and I have been married for 4 years. I am 29 and he is 33. We decided to wait to start a family until I finished my doctorate of clinical psychology. Due to hormone issues, I took Clomid for one month in May of this year. Suprisingly, the first month we tried, we got pregnant! We were so excited and I immediately began the process of getting ready for our baby. Morning sickness was not that bad, but when it was, I was thankful that my body was working to get ready.

It was deemed that I was having a "normal" pregnancy and all my tests and ultrasounds came back normal. At my 20th week, we found out we were having a girl and named her Annabelle Gwen. At my 24th week appointment and 28th week appointment everything sounded and looked great. I had scheduled my first 2 week appointment.

Following my last normal check up, I began to feel less kicking. Still movement, but the Friday after my last normal checkup, I realize now I felt the last kick of my little girl. Everyone told me that I was fine as long as I was feeling some movement. Over the weekend, I laid on my side and thought I felt her move. I breathed a sigh of relief, but somewhere in my head I knew something was wrong. On Monday, my husband was out of town and I called the doctor. The nurse told me I was fine, but I insisted on coming in for a heart check.

I still have the IM on my computer of the moment before I left to go to the doctor: 3:06pm I wrote to my husband: Going to get Annabelle's heart check. Just a quick nurse visit. I can't erase it. That was my last happy breathe of life.

I arrived at the doctor's office and was immediately taken to a room. The nurse could not find the heartbeat with the first doppler. She blamed it on the machine and said not to worry. She then could not find it with a second doppler. I began to panic and I wanted to call my husband. I did not want to be there. I did not want to lie there and be told this by myself. I did not think my body would contain the news.

She continued to say not to worry as she rushed me to the ultrasound room. I laid still while the coldness of the gel overtook me. The nurse was silent as she manuevered over my belly. I would not look as I did not want to see my baby girl not moving. I looked up and saw her crying. I knew. I knew what no mother wants to know. My baby girl was already in heaven.

The doctor came in and repeated test. I was told in a very formal tone that "there is no heartbeat and no movement. We are sorry, but your baby is dead". That was it. No explanation. Didn't they realize this was the worst moment of my life? Didn't they realize that my heart had just broken completely? Didn't they realize that Annabelle was my life?

I made the most difficult call of my life. My husband broke down on the phone and rushed to the airport to get home. I had never heard my husband moan in pain before that moment. My mother and father rushed to the office to get me. I sat in a chair while the doctor informed me of the procedure that would need to be performed the following day. I sat hearing her voice, but stuck in my body, stuck in the moment.

I did not sleep that night. My husband got home late and we laid in bed and held each other, held Annabelle in my belly. The grief was unbearable. I cried from the depths of my soul. I shook with grief. My life would forever be changed. I did not want to go on. I did not want to deliver my silent angel. I wanted to keep her in my belly, but I knew that she deserved to be delivered and held even it was only briefly by her parents.

The next day we arrived at the hospital. I was induced and spent the day tossing and turning. I heard other mother's cries of joy and little cries that were new to the world. But, my room was silent. My room was filled with tears and anger. My room was filled with the cries of labor, but not the cries of joy. I was close to seeing my little girl. I was given pain meds and had an epidural as my pain was excruciating.

That afternoon, the doctor came in and said "we are fully dialated". It is time. My mom, sister, and dear husband lifted my legs to help bring Annabelle into the world and I pushed as best I could as I wanted this to be as smooth as possible for my little girl. I was surrounded by love and it gave me strength to endure this pain.

The words echo through my heart, "yep, the umbilical cord is short and it is wrapped around her neck". I cried in horror that my little girl had endured such an experience. I looked around and my loved ones were in awe at the beautiful little being. She was cleaned and placed in my arms. Oh what a sight to be seen. She was the most perfect little angel I have ever seen.

They took her away and dressed her in a adorable pink outfit. My whole family was there as they brought her in. This was overwhelming for me to see her dressed like a baby doll. She laid there silent, but I knew that her soul was with me in my heart.

My family was able to say goodbye to her and then my husband and I laid with her on the bed as long as we we could. We cried deep penetrating cries. We were awed by how many features she had of us. My husbands feet and my cheeks. Oh what a beautiful little girl. Then I heard the words "it is time". My heart screamed "NO"..I cannot let go of my little girl. What a cruel thing to have to let go. This was the hardest moment in my life. How does one let go? How does one hand over an angel that had been part of you for 7 months? How does one let go of an angel when you know you will not see her again until heaven? No, my heart screamed, but I had to let go.

That was Tuesday night. It is now Saturday morning. I am blessed to have a wonderful husband and a wonderful support network of friends and family. My husband and I have spent the last few days loving each other, crying together, and trying to make movements toward some type of normalcy.

I sit and mourn my daughter every second of the day, but others move on. I can't look at my body. Getting a shower is the hardest part of my day. I look down and see the belly that once was full of my little girl. I ache for it to be round and full again. No one told me that my body would not know that there was no Annabelle to suck the nourishment from my body. So, Wed. night I woke to milk flowing from my body. Oh the pain. Oh the pain of knowing that that was ment for Annabelle.

Everyone is watching me. Waiting for me to smile. Waiting for me to "snap out of it". Waiting for me to recognize that "it was for the best" and "you will have many more babies". NO. MY heart screams. I want the world to stop. I want my baby girl back. I don't want to move on.

But, I know I will have to. I know I will have to find a way to love my little angel from afar, but not die from the pain. I know I need to cherish my marriage and not give up on having a family with my sweet, dear husband. I know I need to take care of myself and allow the grieving process to continue on. I know that some day my ache will slowly dwindle.

But, my love for Annabelle will stay true and strong. She will be known to all as the daughter of Rick and Jen. She will be the light that I follow throughout my days. She will be the one I talk to when my nights are black. She will be my little girl always.