The Worst Day of My Life

It's been nine days since it happened. It's taken me this long to build up the courage or the ability to write about it without collapsing into a ball of tears and blubber on the kitchen floor. I probably won't even make it through writing this.

On New Year's Eve, the Girl had pains in her abdominal area. After awhile, she realized they were semi-regular, and that we should probably time them. I search all over the Internets and eventually thought that this was a case of Braxton-Hicks contractions. It was way to early for anything else. When she noticed blood, I panicked.

We called the doctor, got in my RSX, and did 80 mph down Rt 2 to get to the Anne Arundel Medical Center. I pulled into the spot doing 30, stopped, and a nice nurse helped us to where we needed to be. We went into the triage room and I was panicking. The first thing they did was look for the heartbeat, which they didn't find right away. I freaked out, and then suddenly they came across it and I collapsed and started crying the first time. I was so scared the baby was hurt. That was about the only good thing that happened...

The bad news began here. They told us that they thought she was in labor. I don't understand why or how. All I know is that I was back to panicking. As soon as they said it, I asked if our baby even had a chance at survival. They told us that they were going to see how far along the labor was, and, if it was early enough, they'd try to prevent the labor for up to six weeks. I really hoped that this would work out. At 29 weeks, a baby has a much greater chance of survival. At 23, there's next to none.

They took her to a delivery room, and when they checked her out, they told she was fully dilated and that the baby was coming. I nearly had a heart attack. They asked the Girl if she wanted an epidural, to which she said yes. Before the doctor even left the room, the baby was coming, though. About 30 seconds later, at 7:48 PM, our baby boy was born. They immediately took him over to a NICU table to try to help him. His lungs, heart, and esophagus had not developed to the point that he was ready to come. They kept trying to intubate him to help him breathe, but his poor little passageways were just too small. He tried so hard.

At 8:30 PM, our baby boy died in our arms. He never got to cry, never got to open his eyes. About all he got to do was hold the Girl's finger. I never got to feel him kick in the womb.

Now, all I can think about is how his life was robbed. He'll never get to experience the things we've grown to love and hate. He'll never get the chance to walk, to cry, to laugh, or play. He'll never get the chance to go rock climbing or play soccer. He'll never get the chance to learn everything he may or may not have wanted to learn. He'll never get the chance to appreciate the beauties in the world. He'll never get to experience the wonders that happen every day.

Rest in peace, baby bear. Rest in peace, Andrew Gregory Ambler.