My Sweet Zoe Jane

Zoe Jane was born sleeping on Sunday, December 5th 2010 at 7:23pm.

She was my 4th pregnancy and my first daughter.

Her beautiful heart just stopped.  I went to the hospital when I didn’t feel her move much the night after my baby shower.  They were unable to find a heartbeat and then helped me go into labor.

17 hours later, she came into the world. She weighed 3lbs 12oz. She was 17 inches long. I cried, but she didn’t. She was still, silent and perfect.

We don’t know what exactly happened and I don’t think that we will ever have the answers.  At least not in this life.

Our doctor was amazing.  He was the same doctor that delivered my husband 24 years before. My nurse was named Julie.  She had red hair.  She was what I needed when I needed it.  The staff was beyond reproach.   They arranged for pictures to be taken.  I’ve only looked at them once.

I see her every time I close my eyes.  I hear the silence during the ultrasound when they were looking for her heartbeat.  I feel my heart break every time I think about the words that came from the doctors’ mouth: “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t take any effort to go right back to that moment at 12:17 am.  Those are moments I will never forget.

She was beautiful. She looked just like Noah.  She changed everything about me.  I don’t even remember who I was before her.  I carry her around with me every day.  That has never changed.

When she was born, I wasn’t angry at God.  I never blamed Him.  For years, I blamed myself.  It had to be something I did.  She was fine on Wednesday at my doctor’s appointment and before I could take a deep breath, she was gone.

One of our oldest friends named her after a song by Staind. I haven’t listened to it since I was at her graveside the day we buried her. My husband told me once that he listens to it on her birthday every year.

I wanna hold you
Protect you from all of the things I’ve already endured
And I wanna show you
Show you all the things that this life has in
Store for you
And I’ll always love you
The way that a father should love his daughter

Sweet Zoe Jane

Now every Dec 5th, I visit the cemetery.  I buy pink flowers and leave them there. I don’t get to throw a party.  I don’t buy balloons.  I go by myself (which I prefer) and sit and stare at a stone and try to remember and try to forget.

There is a comfort in knowing that Avery looked just like her when she was born, only a much larger version (Avery was 9lbs at birth).  I smile when I think that maybe Avery is a lot like she would have been.  Maybe just as sassy and opinionated. It’s comforting to know that Noah tells people that he has 3 siblings.  It’s sweet to think that he thinks about them too. But it’s painful to think that he has been through so much in his 9 years.



This was part of our pregnancy announcement for Heath.  Photo by Carolyne Mayo Photography.

I am honestly not bitter or angry anymore.  Sometimes I’m still sad and I still struggle with the holiday season.  I miss her and what she would have been in our lives, but without her, I wouldn’t have Avery or Heath.  Zoe would have been our last.  They don’t replace her.

She helped give them to me.



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