I've spent many weeks now trying to find stories similar to mine, where a loss occurred suddenly and at the very end of a totally healthy pregnancy. Finding these kinds of stories in some way comforts me (even though they are so sad too), letting me know I'm not alone, I'm not the first person who thought she was doing everything right and then everything went wrong, I'm not the only person in the world who knows this pain. Just now I did the opposite. I looked up stories of people whose babies lived because their moms noticed signs just in the nick of time. In my case I think the only thing I could have noticed was a possible decrease in fetal movement. I've read tons of other stories where the mother noticed a decrease and it was already too late. Those stories actually comfort me. But I just now read a handful with the opposite outcome, and I continue to have that nagging feeling that I should have known something was wrong or was about to go wrong. I didn't pay a lot of attention to movement beyond enjoying it and loving it when it happened. I didn't count the movements or make sure I felt something every so often. It just happened. I wasn't told by my OB that I needed to check on it all the time either. And not only was I not told to be extra vigilant with it in late pregnancy, I was actually told NOT to worry if the movement changed since the baby will run out of room. I do not believe that anymore and now think that whole concept is an old wive's tale and that we need to stop using that line. But maybe many women HAVE felt a slowdown at the end and their babies were fine. Do you all ever look up stories where moms acted differently than you did and had a better outcome? I guess my grief has gone all over the place... first wanting the same stories as mine, then looking for ones to prove to myself I missed something that other women catch. I want to blame someone. I go between the doctor, the hospital, and mostly myself. I wish I could KNOW there was nothing I could have done, but honestly no matter how many people tell me that, in my heart I do think there was something I could have done - I just wasn't on the lookout for problems when one apparently was happening or was about to. Had I been more alert, yes, I think there's a chance I could have done something. I guess I'm not looking for reassurance - I am feeling stubborn hard to reassure these days! - but I am wondering what your experiences have been. I'm sorry you're all here.

Annon,

I am so sorry for your loss. My loss was much earlier in my pregnancy, so I have no words to comfort you.

I know that we all feel guilty. That we missed something. Replaing events over and over, analysing to see what we missed, what we could have done differently.

No-one can tell us it wasn't our fault. We, I guess have to come to that conclusion ourselves. I know I haven't. At the moment I can't see me ever accepting that I did nothing wrong.

Sorry that I can't be any help. Just wanted you to know I know and understand. To remind you that you are not alone, many of us feel the same

Xxx

Anon, I'm so sorry for the loss of your precious baby. I think we all feel , at some stage or another, that we could have/should have done something more..... That if this or that had've been done differently we could have kept our babies here with us. I think these feelings are definitely more intense at the beginning of this journey while our brains are still trying to process the magnitude of the loss.

I lost Shelby after a diagnosis with a very rare condition. I'd never heard of it and was reliant on the foetal medicine sonographers and surgeons for my information. After we lost her but before the autopsy I read all these stories about children with the condition (to varying degrees) that were living happy lives. And I was so scared that we had made the wrong decisions. After the autopsy it was determined that Shelby's condition meant she never would have survived birth due to a complication with her lungs. This gave me some peace of mind but honestly my brain can't help but think "what if they were wrong" "what if she had've been a miracle and survived". Always what if.......

So sorry for your loss. xx

Anon,

First, I want to say thank you for having the courage to post. Your story is unfortunately similar to mine. I carried my daughter 38 weeks and my pregnancy was so healthy until the horrible day she stopped moving. I was ready to meet her and anxious to experience labor in order to hold my precious prize. I also wonder, when did this decrease in movement begin? I cannot help but place blame on myself. I am her mother, the one chosen to protect her and I failed. I know we are torturing ourselves but I do not know how to get passed those thoughts. How will I get to a place where I am strong enough to try again?

I discuss what her life would have been and how we will remember her each day with my husband. It helps bring a smile. Each moment I am alone I just cry. I am so sad and getting through this feels impossible at times. I have friends and family that text and offer help and while I appreciate the love, I would rather share thoughts and moments with someone who knows what I am going through.

My question for you, Anon is What is helping you get through your day?

Mallory: I am so sorry to hear that you can relate to this pain, and unfortunately I totally understand everything you are saying. My loss occurred at 41 weeks right as labor was beginning. I sort of came to the realization yesterday that my story, no matter how long and hard I think about it, will end up falling into one of two scenarios... Either there were signs I could have noticed but wasn't looking for them or missed them - in which case I obviously feel awful and so guilty and like I failed. Or there were NO signs (or else ones that were so subtle that no normal woman would possibly detect them), in which case I just got dealt the worst blow ever, and the universe basically said "screw you" to me, and everything unraveled at the last minute, which is the cruelest trick on a mother ever. That theory sucks, too. Both options are awful, because the outcome is the same - my daughter is not here, but she should be. I am ALWAYS wondering when a decrease in movement began, or if there even was one. I could easily be convinced that there was a decrease - but I can't prove it very well either way because I didn't keep track of it anyway. I don't think I ever went a full day without movement, but in retrospect I wonder if the final couple of days were really low on movement. I wasn't worried about it at the time b/c I was about to go into labor any second anyway - it seemed like I was finished with pregnancy and just needed to deliver. But sometimes I wonder if there was a slow tapering off of movement over time, maybe even a few weeks, that was harder to notice because it was so gradual. I have no idea, honestly. I wish I knew, just so I wouldn't wonder, even if the truth would hurt. My whole life already hurts, so I don't think further information would even be able to make it worse. I blame myself, too. All the time. I also understand the sentiment of wanting to share the pain with someone who understands. I saw someone else's post here on Glow who once said she wants to live in a village of just baby loss moms. I understand that, b/c people without these really horrific losses just don't, and can't, get it. Everyone is so well-meaning, and I do appreciate it. I could cry thinking of some of the acts of kindness I've been shown. But none of it takes much of an edge off of my pain, and sometimes it can make me feel even sorrier for myself. I still have to live every day with this horrible new reality, and all of those wonderful, well-meaning people get to go back to their own lives and children and get to be thankful that they are not me. Because our stories are so rare (statistically), one of the additional blows to the loss, in my opinion, is the feeling of immense loneliness and "I am the only person I know who has had this happen" thoughts. It really feels cruel. Loss on top of loss. As far as what is helping me through my day, that's hard to say. I'm about three months out from my loss, and every day remains a struggle. When did your loss happen? And did you get any answers as to what went wrong? I think both of those answers affect where people are with their grief. Anyway, I exist in a day-by-day kind of way. I'm not really at the point where I think about something in the future and look forward to it or get excited. I sort of try to get through the day. Even so, that's maybe a smidge better than where I started, where it was more like hour to hour, or meal to meal. I didn't care about anything anymore at all. I am talking to a counselor now. I don't know if I'd say that's helped that much yet. I'm looking into a new counselor at the moment and think I've found one who will be a better fit. I keep hearing, and I agree, that it is important to shop around until you find the right person. I try to stay on top of other things in life too, like emails and texts and other people's birthdays or phone calls. I know that sounds humdrum, but it's a step toward normalcy - even returning phone calls or making a to-do list for myself are newer things for me now. I try to continue doing the same routines and errands and chores I always did, so that I won't feel like I'm incapable of taking care of myself or of doing my fair share around the house. And I occasionally plan or attend something "for fun." I don't yet have the kind of fun I used to, and I cry all the time too, but I've tried to get out of the house and attempt things just a tad. Emphasis on "a tad." :) I also have started going on more "dates" with my husband. We thought we'd have a newborn right now, our first child, and now it's still just us. We have filled the time with a few more dates than usual, anything to get us out in happier environments and reconnecting with each other. These times have been pleasant for me b/c he shares in my grief and knows where I am with it and was there for the entire pregnancy, delivery, the whole bit. He doesn't want to talk about it all the way I do, but at least he does know the whole story and I don't have to reinvent the wheel and retell everything like I do with other people. I also spend a LOT of my time, most of my time, reading and researching what happened to my baby, trying to figure it out, and reading other people's stories. I had no idea losing a baby at full-term was even something that really happens. I've been fascinated to hear others' stories in order not to feel so alone. I also write in my journal and read grief books. Most of my time and energy is centered on attempts to understand my loss. Some days are harder than others. Every day is hard and sad, though. I will say, I am able to function on a basic human level better now than I was a few months ago. And I do mean basic... getting dressed, eating, having conversations where I actually am listening to what the other person says, having the brainpower to think about something besides my loss (although the thoughts of my loss never really go away; they just run alongside other thoughts at times). I guess the main thing that helps me get through my day is the hope that someday my life will look completely different, and it will look like how I imagined it would be right now but is not. I feel bold and a bit skeptical to even hope that, though, since the journey to this first pregnancy was long and hard already, and now I have this new loss to cope with too. Sometimes "getting through the day" really just looks like breathing in and out and making it until bedtime, then starting over again. Other days I can see just the hint of a glimmer of my old self wanting to creep back in. Today, specifically, I feel sick just knowing the loss is true, and I'm still in disbelief. I have this feeling often, and very typically when I wake up each morning. No one told me or warned me this could ever even happen. I thought I was not only on the homestretch, but literally hours away from meeting my live baby. I do now wonder if I was getting so excited (and also nervous) about the delivery that I put too much attention on that and wasn't even thinking about movement anymore. I never dwelled on movement in the first place, but definitely toward the very, very end I thought I was done worrying about anything at all, really. It never even occurred to me to freak out about anything. I've even wondered if some end-of-pregnancy anxiety I had (about getting induced soon) could possibly have been a subconscious awareness that something was wrong, like on some level I felt out of touch with my baby and nervous, but I channeled it as nervousness about the labor and delivery and didn't have the "aha" moment that my baby had become sluggish. Or maybe she didn't become sluggish. I don't know and can't even remember anymore. Anyway, very long response. I'd love to talk to you more. I, too, desperately want to connect with others who have similar stories. Hugs.

Hi Anon--I saw this posted elsewhere and thought it was interesting--it addresses that feeling of being at fault. https://pregnancyafterlosssupport.com/fault/
I think the feeling that we did something wrong is really, really common. I tortured myself for a long time. I think our brains are trying to make sense of something that can never make sense. It's hard to realize that such important things are out of our control. I don't know if it's a comfort now, but I tortured myself with all the "what ifs" and I know lots of other moms who did as well. And for everyone I know that horrible feeling got better. The early months are so very, very painful.

Hi Anon,

I'm so very sorry for your loss and wish I wasn't grappling with the very same thoughts. Today was hard day, as that feeling of "if only and what if," was very present in my mind as it always is. I rushed my almost 2 year old to urgent care due to a possible broken wrist. It looks like she'll be alright but as I drove home I sobbed. Why didn't I rush her baby sister to the ER that night? Why didn't I think anything bad was going to happen? Why didn't I read up on her virus and trust the doctor? Why the hell did I not listen to myself and instead listened to the doctor? I torture myself by reading positive outcomes from similar situations and hate myself for not saving her. Every story is heartbreaking but I keep looking for stories like mine and there aren't really any. Which makes me feel even more alone. It's been 2 months since my baby died and I suppose on the outside its business as usual. People ask how I'm doing and it's such a loaded question. Because I'm not ok and I don't know if I ever truly will be. I'm breathing but I feel dead inside.
Everything you wrote is pretty much what I've been thinking and feeling. It was quite refreshing to see it in words. Someone else mentioned living in a village of baby loss moms. I suppose this place is the closest I will get to that. I look forward to reading others' experiences and thoughts when I come to this page. My husband thinks I'm torturing myself but I find it comforting to know there really are others like me. I hope that overtime any information you discover (good or bad) helps to move through the pain. Hugs to you.

Anon- you captured really well the same feelings I have been having after losing my son to a rare congenital birth defect. We chose not to pursue aggressive medical intervention for our son- we had information that showed one survivor and (as far as we could find after talking with doctors all over the country) close to 12 cases where aggressive medical intervention was used where the baby still died. We made the hard choice to not put our son through a long arduous journey in the NICU for what likely would have been a poor outcome. But I still ask myself ALL THE TIME- could he have been the second survivor? For the first two months after we lost him, I spent hours on the Internet, looking for information we might have missed, or more survivors who we just didn't hear about. What I think we really want is for someone to be able to tell us for certain that "there was nothing we could have done differently". Of course, while there is a ton of information out there, no one will be able to tell us that. And when I'm not thinking about the decision against medical intervention, I'm consumed by whether I somehow caused his birth defect.

So I definitely get where you are coming from.