My daughter, Jessica Robin, was stillborn March 4, 1976. She strangled on her cord as she was being delivered.

 

There was no newborn wails, nothing…silence. They held her up for me to see her for a few seconds, then took her away from me forever.

 

I sobbed in the recovery room, then when they took me to my room, it was on the maternity ward. I couldn't stop the tears. A floor nurse, who took report, put me right back in a gurney and took me to the surgical floor and demanded I be given a room by myself. Although the floor nurses said they didn't have one, a bed in a room by myself was found rather quickly.

 

As I was being settled in, still crying, that nurse, who was brusque with everyone else, held me and rocked me for at least ten minutes. She told me my little girl was safe in the arms of the angels, that some souls don't stay here, and when I was old, she would be waiting for me in heaven.

 

I never saw her again as I was discharged the next day. Jessica's body was donated to the college for research by my husband, and in those days there were no pictures or footprints for memories. Every March 4th is tearfilled, but I'll always remember the kindness of Marie, the nurse. I remember the quick glimpse of a perfect little girl, forever sleeping, that I'll always love.