It started as all my other appointments had started, waiting in a well decorated waiting room, needing to pee, and excited to hear her heartbeat. They call my name, get my weight, and sit me down on the little table. I lay back, lift my shirt up, and the nurse pulls out her fetal heart monitor.

As I wait for her to find the heartbeat I’m thinking of what else I need to do that day, but then it’s been longer than the normal time it takes to find the heartbeat. I ask her what’s wrong….she says the baby could be really low and to not worry. But of course at this point I’m worried. Very worried.

She bring the portable ultrasound machine in and I can see there is no movement, of any kind. Then I’m rushed to the hospital so an actual ultrasound tech can take a look. That’s when I get the official news: my baby is dead.

I hadn’t had any symptoms of anything being wrong. I’d felt movement just days before.

Two days later I was admitted into the hospital… and wheeled into the labor and delivery wing. Every room was full. That day was those women’s best day and my worst.

I could hear the baby next door cry and I would try to get up because I thought I needed to care for it but then I’d remember, no…that’s not my baby. I’ll never hear her cry or breathe. I’ll never hold her hand or change her diaper. I gave birth to my daughter, Georgia Mae, at 1:55am on May 18, 2013.

I was 22 weeks and three days pregnant. She was so beautiful. She looked exactly like I thought she would. High cheekbones, rosebud mouth, and long, graceful legs. I could look at her face forever. She weighed 8oz and was 8 inches long. My fiancé/her daddy came home from Afghanistan the next day on emergency leave. He never got to see her but I am so grateful he was allowed to come home and be with me for a little while.

I would like to encourage all Mothers who have lost their baby to pump their milk for as long as they are comfortable doing so and donating it to a milk bank. Even though my body let my sweet Georgia Mae down, it was still able to help someone else’s baby.

Although she was here for such a short time, she taught me so many things. It doesn’t matter what color the nursery is or what brand of crib I buy, what matters is that the people I love are ok. That they know how much I love them. I am a better person for having her in my life and I know I will see her again.