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My world did not stop turning, but I wished it had. In January 2005, I found out that I was pregnant with my first child. I was unmarried and worried about what my family would think. The truth was, although my family was not thrilled with the circumstances, we were all excited for this little girl to make her entrance into the world. She was the first grandchild for my parents and the first child, not only for me, but also for my boyfriend.

It was not even the picture perfect pregnancy. I was excited because I did not have morning sickness, although eating meat was the most difficult thing for me to do. I started bleeding at 26 weeks and the doctors could not figure out why. They could only see that it had stopped when I got that ultrasound.

My little girl was growing just fine until we hit a snag. At 34 weeks she stopped growing. She was still in there, with her little heartbeat, but the doctors wanted to monitor her a little closer. I was already having non-stress tests to monitor her heartbeat and movement. I went back in at 35 weeks and she had grown just a little bit more. Everything seemed to be fine and so the doctors scheduled my last appointment for the next week. It would be the last time I would feel her little movement. I woke at 3am on the morning of my appointment, knowing that my boyfriend and I would ask that they induce labor. Emma was kicking and moving around. It was the last time I felt her move. I got up for my shower that morning and just knew that she was gone. Everybody tried to convince me that I was just a nervous first time parent, but I knew what was really happening. I lost my little girl before I even got to hold her.

I went through the whole grieving process-I curled up in a ball on the couch the day my boyfriend brought me home from that doctor's appointment. He went through the process of taking down the nursery and storing those items at his parents' house so we would not have to see it. Instead, I sat in an empty room that was meant to be my daughter's and just cried. You have to do what feels right for you. When I delivered her at the hospital (since we were 36 weeks along), I held her for hours, allowed them to take pictures of her that I knew I wanted to one day have. I also requested that the chaplain be called in to bless her.

I planned a small funeral for her. I had to go through the process of truly letting her go. It's hard to let go of someone so small. The only thing that I could see as a positive is that she only knew the love that we all had for her. She never had to experience the pains in life. It was the only thing that saw me through those dark first days. I could not sit at home by myself and returned to work a week after the funeral. Every night as I lay in bed, I could hear a small child cry. To this day, although I've had two children, I still hear that cry sometimes.

You will never forget that child. You will always feel like someone is missing from the group when you are getting the family ready for something. I will get in the car sometimes and think that I forgot to load a child into a car seat. It truly is a day by day process. We all grieve differently. I go to the cemetery and bring Emma flowers. I talk to my sons about their sister, because I want them to know and love this little girl too. Sometimes I will be driving and a song will come on the radio that just has me in tears.

Grieving shows itself in different ways and we all handle it in different ways. The important thing is to handle it the best way for you.

Learn more about this author, Becky Robbins.
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