This time last year . . .

This time last year I was being induced to deliver Jacob's body.

It was an awful end to an awful day. I remember it in snippets:

I got up early and drank bucket loads of orange juice and apple cider, hoping to stimulate movement in my belly.

I grew inpatient with Lizzie when she complained while she was getting ready for school. I kept thinking, how can you be so difficult when your brother might be actual distress?

I chanted "move baby, move" in my head as I raced to the doctors office. I also started to plan the baby's funeral, then scolded myself for overreacting.

I though I heard a heartbeat in the doctors office and felt a flood of relief, then dread when I realized that the doctor is still searching.

The uninformed nurse that led me to the sono room tried to laugh and joke with me.

When the doctor told me "the news isn't good" I put my hand to my mouth and turned my head to the wall, too stunned to cry or speak or scream.

Andrew was waiting for my call, but it took nearly an hour to reach him because he was in a building with limited cell phone access. I called and texted him continuously, typing "baby gone. come home."

Andrew and I sat on the bed in shock. I apologized for whatever I may have done to kill our baby. He assured me that it wasn't my fault.

Andrew went back to work briefly to hand off a project, then we met at Lizzie's school.

I called my friend Rachael and she burst into tears at the news.

We were in the van when Drew told Lizzie. She dissolved into tears. I felt like apologizing to her.

We ate lunch at Macaroni Grill. My stomach was so still.

Ryann called, then came and picked up Lizzie for the weekend. I felt some relief.

My mother called and she heard it in my voice. When I said "hello," she said "what's wrong?"

We sent out an email announcement to family and friends. The condolence emails started coming in almost immediately.

We had hours till our scheduled induction. We considered going to a movie, but ended up watching TV and fielding sympathy calls.

Our bishop stopped by and gave us each a blessing. In mine he said I will have "many, many" children. We felt comforted by our blessings and even joked about "many, many" saying that it must refer to grandchildren.

We mapquested directions to the hospital (our tour was scheduled for the following weekend).

During the late night drive we picked a name.

In the hospital waiting room we observed a woman in obvious labor pain and felt sorry for her because she was alone.