in 1964, i was married and pregnant with a much wanted second baby. early on, i felt something was wrong as the baby’s movements weren’t the same as my first. two weeks to term while i was at a store, i felt this sudden heaviness inside of me as my baby died. a strange man’s voice asked me if i was okay as he led me to a bench. i saw my doctor right away. he took a very long time to examine me. there was no ultrasound then; only a stethoscope. he told me he thought the baby was dead. i felt like i’d been hit by a truck. i asked what he could do. he looked down, and said, “there’s nothing i can do. you have to carry to term.” i told him i couldn’t do that. he repeated he could do nothing. i went home and cried. the dead weight inside was overwhelming.

i’ve always been a very stubborn person, so i willed myself into labor. i called my doctor who told me to come to the hospital even though he doubted i was in labor. i was. some wonderful woman with a european accent, a nurse i think, came into my room and said how barbaric it was that i’d been left to labor alone, and proceeded to massage my uterus and assured me i would be okay.

my baby daughter was delivered in a silent delivery room filled with people. years later i realized that i could have died of sepsis. i had all the symptoms. no one should have to go through the agony of being forced to carry a dead baby to term. i remember wanting to stop the labor because i knew how it would end. i still grieve for the baby i never held in my arms. her name is rebecca.