Death can be defined in a number of ways, but to me death is something that is certain. Often times, we as humans presume death to be frightening and undesirable. After all, we become so attached to someone just for death to move in and capture its next victim. For many of us there is not a given time, while for some, there is an estimation of when it will come. Frequently, however, death tends to be thrown at us like a curveball. It most of the time comes unexpectedly and sometimes too soon. There is one form of death that generally takes someone too soon and that is stillbirth. There are roughly 23,000 women each year who endure the pain of having a stillbirth (Gregory, MacDorman). Sadly, my mother experienced stillbirth first hand. For her, the death of her future child affected her worse than the death of a person whom she had spent her whole life knowing.
My mother carried my little brother for nearly 6 months. That’s roughly 24 weeks of seeing her child grow through ultrasounds, feeling him kick the inside of her stomach, and watching him meet every milestone. Her pregnancy started off a little
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I enjoyed being the baby of the family, and I did not want to share my attention. Well, time went on and I quickly began to realize that there was nothing I could do to stop this child from coming, so I finally accepted the fact that I was going to be a big sister. No sooner than my mother and I had began picking out names everything spun down hill. We had just talked about naming him Logan the night before the unimaginable happened. On November 26th of 2010 my mother was admitted to the hospital. I received a call from my grandmother telling me to get there as soon as possible, things were not looking good. I ran into my older brothers room and told him we had to get to the hospital. We grabbed our things and quickly ran out the