Surviving the Death a Child, Part One

Part 1: Where Is Her Heartbeat?

“Where is her heartbeat?”

That question changed everything.

We were only two weeks away from our daughter’s due date. All three of our sons had come a week or two early. Anticipation was high. Any day now, our first girl, Nicaea, would be snuggled in our arms.

Everything was ready for our home birth. We were old pros. Each of our sons was born at home in a pool specially designed for water births. All the needed materials and equipment were organized neatly in the corner of the room. All the boxes were ticked on our checklist except one.

We still had one last routine checkup with our midwife, Gay. My wife, Emily, had already seen our back-up doctor a few days before. He had said everything looked good. We expected to hear the same from Gay.

Emily raced home from the grocery store for the checkup. We were trying to squeeze it in before heading over to the Monroe County Fair. I had only a few hours before I needed to be at work. Time was of the essence if we were going to eat elephant ears and ride the tilt-a-whirl.

Our house was like a busy intersection. Shirtless boys zipped around searching for their shoes. I quickly put away the groceries and made salami sandwiches. All the while, Gay kept moving her doppler around my wife’s plump belly.

Her face increasingly wore a concerned look. Emily’s began to look the same way.
I asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Gay said. “I can’t find the heartbeat.”