I miscarried at 3 months...a perfect little baby boy. I went to the hospital to avoid bleeding to death. I held my baby in my hand, he was just the size of my palm, and cried over him until I started to bleed. I took him to the hospital with me and insisted the staff call him by name. They couldn't tell me why he died, but released the body to the mortician we chose. He provided the type of box they use for ashes after a cremation, and we took our little boy and buried him with my great-grandparents and the stillborn baby they lost. He has a stone with his name on, also.
After our little funeral, my mom told me about the baby she lost...and how she wished they'd been free to mourn the way we did. Instead, she was told to "forget it, and go try again," just as though that child had been nothing, her pregnancy never existed, the pain and grief would just go away.
Santorum's baby was 20 weeks when he died. If my baby was perfect at 12 weeks, obviously their baby was, too.
