Did you know that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in either miscarriage, still birth or infant loss? That’s a scary statistic. There are so many women out there who fall in this statistic and we may not ever know because it’s not something many people talk about.

When I found out I was pregnant in May 2015, I was in SHOCK. I had been taking my little birth control regularly and Cameron just started his first rotation in Iraq. I got this weird feeling and I just knew I was pregnant. I’ll never forget taking a pregnancy test in the very last stall in the bathroom at my JOB…of all places to take one. I just couldn’t wait. I knew I was pregnant. I just needed that little stick to tell me I was correct. After a long couple of minutes and the stick hiding under my keyboard, I couldn’t look at it. I was SCARED. Why? Who knows! There right before my eyes PREGNANT 2+ WEEKS is what that little stick said. So I stepped outside and gave my hubby a call while he was on the other side of the world to tell him we were going to be parents again. The guilt I have for the thoughts I had after finding out I was pregnant haunts me at times. I remember wondering how on earth would we pay for daycare for 2 littles. Wondering how could we make it work financially. Knowing that bringing a second child in the world meant Cameron would have to stay overseas longer than we “planned”. I regret EVERY thought like that I was feeling at the time.

Being I had Brodie at 33 weeks, I was considered high risk now. I was seeing specialists and taking shots weekly in my back side to help keep me pregnant for as long as possible. Everything was looking great! I had a checkup on a day that Cameron was flying back home so I was able to see him in person for the first time since I told him I was pregnant literally two week after he left and show him pictures of baby Morrow. Not long after that we went on vacation to Tennessee. About a week later our worlds would change.

September 16, 2015: 20 weeks, 6 days. That day changed my life. The day before I called my doctor because I just felt like something was wrong. I made him check me and everything was good, but my gut was telling me something was wrong. The night of the 15th, Cameron fell asleep in Brodie’s bed and I passed out in ours. About 3:00AM I woke up to a terrible pain. FOX News was on my TV, I’ll never forget because their spinning clock at the bottom left hand of the screen is how I counted my contractions because I couldn’t move to get my phone. I laid there for a while thinking, ehh they will stop. I mean I was fine yesterday according to the doctor. After 45 minutes and contractions 5 minutes, I realized they weren’t stopping. So I waddled down the hall and woke Cameron because I knew something was wrong. Swooping up Brodie, getting us all in the car so we could drop off Brodie to my in-laws and get me to the hospital was the blurriest time in my life. I felt like I could rip my car door off the hinge I was in so much pain. We get to the hospital and I will never forget Cameron telling me he was not leaving me in the parking lot to get me a wheelchair, we were going to make it in there! I wanted to just quit right there in the parking lot. Once we got inside, they made Cameron go get me checked in. So here I am, just me and Shanna, the nurse, I’m semi hyperventilating I think. She reassures me everything is going to be ok and that because I’m not very far along it’s probably ok. Man I was sure hoping so! She let me know she was going to check me just to insure that. I will never forget her face. When she started to cry. I knew something was wrong. I felt awful because that poor girl had no plans to be delivering news like what I was about to receive that night. I mean by the time I got there she only had 3 hours left of her shift.

She kept apologizing for breaking down and said I want to have someone double check you. I remember saying why? Is everything ok? And she said I just want to double check, but you are fully dilated and your baby is coming. Tears. They just poured. I’d like to say I am fairly intelligent, but when she said that all I could say is what does that mean. I was blank. I had no thoughts. A few minutes later Cameron came in from getting me checked in and he knew. Just from the look on my face. All I could do is say I’m sorry. And the smile and touch on my face he gave me let me know it was going to be ok and I wasn’t alone.

It was now on my time. Delivery could happen at whatever time I was ready to push. At this point, there’s no epidural, it’s too late. There’s almost no chance of survival. There’s no stopping labor. Nothing. Somehow I laid there for 2 MORE HOURS before I felt like I needed to push. Once it was “time” it went fast. The doctor wasn’t even ready yet. I caught him. One little breath latter and that was it. 6:50 AM September 16, 2015. The scariest day of my life.

The days to follow were ROUGH to say the least. I had to stay for observation. Did you know that when you loose a child they put a special card on your door to make sure the nurses know why you are there? 3 of the nurses I had while I stayed had actually been in the same shoes as me. It made it so much easier knowing I wasn’t alone. It must have been fate that those women were on duty those days and nights when I needed someone most. They were INCREDIBLE!

I don’t share this story for sympathy. I share it because I’m comfortable talking about it now. I still have moments where it bothers me. Heck 2 nights ago was one of them. I share it because I know there is someone out there who needs to hear that she isn’t alone. I hang on to knowing that it’s ok to break down, scream, cry, etc. because I know other women feel the same way.