2018 promised to be the most unforgettable chapter of our story.
We found out we had a baby girl due in October. Like most first-time parents, we expected everything to be perfect. Each doctor’s visit was exciting, hearing her heartbeat, seeing her tiny shape on the screen, and learning she was a girl.
At 20 weeks, the doctor checked if everything was developing well. She had all her fingers and toes, her head was the right size, and her body length matched her due date. But she kept covering her heart with her hands or feet, so the doctor could not get a clear look.
I tried everything to make her move, drinking juice, eating sweets, kneeling, and changing positions but she would not budge. We went back a few days later, but still no luck. She was stubborn! So, they sent us to a high-risk pregnancy unit to get a better look at her heart.
The heart specialist sat us down and told us our baby had a heart defect called Pulmonary Amnesia. My husband held me tight. The doctor showed us pictures and explained that she had likely need surgery right after birth but would be okay in my belly. It was scary, but knowing the doctors were prepared gave us hope.
We named her Sophie Job. We were so excited about her arrival. At 33 weeks, we went for our last heart check-up before she was born. We expected the same news that her heart defect was still there and that surgery would wait until after birth.
But this time, something felt wrong. The ultrasound looked different. The technician said he needed the doctor to take a look. I felt sick to my stomach.
When the doctor came in, we greeted him cheerfully, but I saw something in his eyes. Then they said, your baby has no more heartbeat.
Those words hit me like a storm. I went numb, everything blurry. My husband squeezed my hand and we cried together. I told him, “i am not ready to have a baby today.” It broke my heart to think I would go through labor without bringing her home.
Telling our parents was one of the hardest calls we have ever made. They felt the pain but supported us completely.
The hospital called later to bring us in for labor. I had not packed a bag, the nursery was only half done, and baby shower invitations had just gone out. Driving home, I stared at the empty backseat, imagining Sophie’s car seat there, and cried again.
The labor was extended and excruciating, yet my husband was my support.
Sophie was born at 10:16 p.m., perfect and tiny, with soft brown curls and her daddy’s nose. I feel the affection with her while I hold her.
We spent precious hours with her, playing songs and reading stories, knowing these were our last moments. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing.
Though we lost her, Sophie changed us. We believe we will see her again. Every day, we remember her and live with hope and love, carrying her spirit with us always.
