The Beginning of Our Story

It all began with a pregnancy test that I took and landed on my husband's keyboard while he was chatting on-line with his best bud. He looked at me and smiled. And we were on the road again, to cravings, nausea, midnight requests for bizarre foods, and aching hips from sleeping far too long on one side all night. We were thrilled.

Me working lots of long hours at a job that was fun but yet waning in it's excitement and him trying to establish himself in the world of computers as a professional. And our little girl, who was three turning four in just a few short months and cute as a button with the chubbiest cheeks anyone could ever see.

Over those exciting months I had a promotion at work, we secured our day care slot with everything timed out to work perfectly after his arrival. We had the pre-requisite ultrasounds and prenatal care. I had the ever important adorable maternity clothing that makes one feel attractive even though they are slowly developing the need for their own zip code.

We moved into the 2004 holiday season and my stomach was large and prepared to bring forth my family's first male grandchild. It was so exciting. We chose a name, Andrew. My husband's favorite name. As he said "I never new a guy named Andrew who wasn't a 'stand up guy'. That's what I want my son to be." So, Andrew it was. With my father's first name as his middle name, William. Andrew William, what a lovely ring to the name. My daughter nicknamed him "baby Willey". My mother scoffed at the name "Willey". Which made it ever so much more appealing. My father was still alive back then, struggling with dialysis and multiple health issues. But yet, still there and available to talk with or visit as needed. I miss him.

We had an ultrasound at the hospital, the normal developmental one that is done somewhere around 26 weeks. The specialist who normally read the results was deployed in Iraq, we had a stand in physician. He was concerned about the size of a canal in Andrew's brain. We went for a second ultrasound later on, the original physician was back from Iraq. He basically said, "you're fine" and implied the other physician was reactionary. We left, assured that our baby was healthy, normal and ready to come bouncing out when early January arrived.

I would like to include more detail around the months preceding Andrew's death, however, my memory is foggy. The most clear and vivid memory I have is of December 14, 2004, the day I went to see the obstetrician and found out his precious little heart was not beating. From this point on, my memory is vivid and detail oriented as they were the worst days in my life. It was like falling into a black hole, in the ground and looking up wondering if I would ever again see the light of day.