My baby may have been stillborn — but he was still born
My life seemed to be following the perfect script: I started dating at 18, got engaged at 19, and then came marriage and babies. By the time I was 24, I had three little kids, all close in age. Life kept sailing along smoothly, and soon enough I was excitedly expecting my fourth.
The first inkling that something was wrong was when I was 36 weeks pregnant. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was busy preparing for a Shabbos with a lot of guests, when I realized that I hadn’t felt any movements from the baby lately.
I didn’t make much of it. Friday’s a busy day, I hadn’t eaten for a while, and I knew that if I tuned in for a few minutes I’d feel movement.
Finally, I lit candles. The house was quiet — the four seminary girls I was hosting had taken my kids to the park — and I sat down with a siddur, said some Tehillim, and focused on my baby. No movement. None.
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