Hello,

My name is Adrianne and this is my story. It all began when my
husband and I decided to expand our family with a baby. On August 5,
2005 I found
out that I was pregnant. After the shock and fear of "what did I get
myself into?" went away, I started to make plans. I went to the
doctor and saw this little person on the ultrasound but it wasn't
until I heard the heartbeat on my 27th birthday that I fell
completely in love. How was I to know how truly precious that
birthday would become?

Over a month later I noticed that I had some unusual discharge. I
called my doctor and he assured me that all pregnant women have
discharge. He told me to go home, put my feet up and that he would
see me the following Monday. This being my first pregnancy I took the
advice of my doctor and relaxed. I thought nothing of the
discharge. The next day when I laughingly told a co-worker that my
doctor put me on bed rest and I couldn't attend her Halloween party.
Not an hour passed when my world came crashing down. I went to get
up to use the restroom, like I had so many times before, when my
water broke. We were 18 weeks and 6 days into our pregnancy. My
husband called 911 and I don't think it took 3 minutes for the
ambulance get to my door step.

We were rushed to the closest hospital and what started out as just a
bad dream turned into a nightmare that I have yet to wake up from. I
was wheeled into the ER and sat and sat. Both my husband and I
realized that no one was going to help us. This was not my chosen
hospital, so I tried to call my OB only to find out that he was out
of town. I was transferred to the doctor on call, whom I'd never
seen, hoping that he could tell me what to do. I was told what no
mother in my situation should hear: "The doctors are not going to
help you. They are just waiting for your fetus to abort". This is
when I went into hysterics. I pleaded with various ER staff to please
save my baby. Over and over again I was told "We are backed up, we
are waiting to give you an ultrasound."

Seven hours later I got my ultrasound and was told what I already
knew; my baby died. I was whisked to labor and delivery because what
once was earlier describe as just a fetus was now a baby that had to
be delivered. My labor was induced and 11hours later, day 1 of week
19 our precious
baby boy Nathaniel came into the world. Two days later instead of
buying a crib, my husband and I picked up our son in an urn.

A few months later I got my records from the ER, spoke to my OB and
consulted a perinatologist.

We eventually became pregnant again. Not knowing what caused my son's
death, I didn't speak to my new baby because I was afraid of
becoming emotionally attached to a baby I might lose. I counted the
passing weeks, not because I was thankful that I survived another
week, but fearful knowing that if I could not stay pregnant, I was
but so many weeks away until I would have to deliver yet another dead
baby.

Week 20 into our pregnancy, I began having the same discharge that
had been the catalyst to our son's death. My husband and I bypassed
911 and rushed to our chosen hospital. We found out that I had an
incompetent cervix. A cerclage was put in and I spent the next 9
weeks in bed. My water broke a second time but, to our relief -
though premature- our daughter was born alive last September. Not a
day goes by that I do not think about or miss my Nathaniel. Though I
am overjoyed with the blessing that is my daughter, I miss my son
beyond words. I know that no matter how many subsequent children we
have, he could never be replaced.