We were ecstatic last March when we learned we were finally pregnant. After months of making the hour drive to Akron a few times a week for infertility consults and treatments, we felt we could finally breathe again.
We did everything right, and were devastated when we had a threatened miscarriage at 13 weeks. After a week of bedrest things turned around. We had ultrasounds every other week, and at our 28 weeks ultrasound the specialist quieted our fears by reassuring us that almost all babies born after 28 weeks survive. We worried a little less with each passing week.
At 35 weeks pregnant, the estimate was a perfectly healthy 5-pound baby. The baby should be able to go home from the hospital after the usual two day stay.
When the baby decided to appear a few days later I was eager to find out if we were having a boy or a girl. Eight hours later, after a few loud cries and shouts of “It’s a girl,” and, “She’s 5 pounds, 9 ounces,” I was already thinking of what she could wear home.
My husband handed me a sweet little bundle and after a few seconds I heard the sweetest little noise. I told the nurse how cute it was.
She listened, quickly said, “That’s not cute; it’s called grunting. We’ll be right back,” and she dashed down the hall with a little girl we had barely seen. I knew they weren’t coming back.
Read more of Sarah and Rebekah’s story through her blog, Follow Your Heart.