One year ago I didn’t know the month of October was recognized nationally as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. I wasn’t aware of statistics like 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that approximately 1 in 160 pregnancies end in stillbirth. I didn’t know just how many friends and people I knew in my own life had dealt with such traumatic losses. I certainly didn’t know that I personally was about to become a part of that group.
I was in the sixth month of my second pregnancy last October when it was confirmed by our doctor that our baby’s heart had stopped beating. I asked to be seen for an appointment after I hadn’t felt her move in what felt like a couple of days. I intuitively felt that something might be wrong.
With the doctor’s confirmation. our worst nightmare became our new reality.
On Oct. 21, 2014, after a heartbreaking labor, I gave birth to our daughter, Reese Michaela Goedeke. My husband and I held our sweet girl for what would be the first and the last time. She was silent, still, and perfect. Our hearts broke on that day and will never heal entirely from such a loss.
Before we lost Reese, I naively believed that giving birth to a healthy, full-term baby was a given. After all, we were blessed to already have our healthy, 18-month-old son who was born on his actual due date. I was healthy, my husband is healthy, so why wouldn’t we have another healthy baby?
No one wants to even think about a baby dying before birth. Losing our baby has been a pain like no other. We lost a lifetime of firsts. We won’t get to see her walk or talk for the first time. We won’t get to watch her play with her big brother. We didn’t get to hear her laugh or see her smile. We lost an entire future that we envisioned.
Up until recently, I was very hesitant to share my own story. In fact, I wanted to isolate myself as much as possible as I grieved, and if it were not for the support of my husband and our family, friends, and most importantly my son Ryder, I am not sure how I would have ever got out of bed many days.
When I began to open up about my loss, I realized just how many women in my own life had miscarried or had a pregnancy end in stillbirth like myself. I found the most comfort in speaking with these women because I felt like they truly understood the immeasurable amount of pain that goes along with such a loss.
Recently, I learned of a local nonprofit organization called Angel Names Association. It is a charitable organization designed to provide financial assistance for end-of-life expenses, provide supportive programs and counseling services for families enduring the trauma of stillbirth and raise money for stillbirth research. More than half of grieving parents are never given an explanation as to why their baby was born still.
Angel Names Association holds an annual walk each year in Saratoga Spa State Park, and this year it is on Oct. 10 at 1:15 p.m. This memorial walk is free to register for and it enables families to remember babies lost through miscarriage, stillbirth, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and infant death.
There will always be a void in my heart for my daughter, Reese. There has not been a single day that has gone by where I don’t think of her countless times. I carried her every second of her life, and I will love her every second of mine. My family cannot get her back, but what we can do is celebrate her memory. We can also help other families experiencing such a tragic loss.
On Oct. 10 my husband Matt, myself and our son Ryder will walk in Reese’s memory at Saratoga Spa State Park. We would love it if you could walk in honor of all of the angel babies lost too soon, or help support us by donating to such a special cause. For more information, visit angelnames.org.
