In January of 2020, I found out I was pregnant. My husband and I had been trying for several years to have another child. I had already had two miscarriages. In 2015 we were blessed with a rainbow baby, a precious daughter who was four at the time of this pregnancy. When we surpassed the three month mark, we thought this is it, we will go full term and all will be well. We were ecstatic that I didn't miscarry between the 7-10 week mark as I had twice before. We felt confident this time.....Boy were we wrong. At 21 weeks....On June 1st, 2020, during the heart of the covid disaster, my husband and I went for our gender ultrasound. Upon the radiologist completing the ultrasound, we were told that our son was healthy but I was in labor. I had no symptoms, no issues but I was 5 cm dilated. I was speechless, my husband and I just looked at one another. My doctor came in and immediately admitted me to the hospital (which was attached to his office) and starting taking measures to stop the labor. They had concluded that I had an incompetent cervix which means it can't stay closed on it's on. (I had complications after having my daughter in 2015 due to negligence on the medical team's part. That resulted in damage to my cervix. Unfortunately, we didn't know how extent of the damage until this happened.) The next morning, my doctor performed a procedure to place a cervical cerclage to close my cervix. While placing the cerclage, he ruptured my membranes causing my water to break. They left the cerclage in place and continued medications to stop the labor. They needed me to make it to at least 24 weeks, I was 21 weeks. I was going to ride it out in the hospital, tilted on my head in what they call the trendelenburg position. (I guess I spelled that right.) Two days later, I started running a fever and passing discharge that was clearly from an infection. They called my doctor in and he confirmed that I had chorioamnitis, an infection of the uterus and amniotic fluid. They started antibiotics immediately. We were still pressing forward, hoping to make it to 24 weeks, the viability age as they call it. That night, contractions returned with a vengeance even with the medication to stop them, they persisted. The next morning, I still had a fever and things started to look bad. My doctor told me that I needed to allow them to remove the cerclage and allow the baby to come. Labor was inevitable at this point, my water had been broken for 3 days, contractions remained even with meds to stop them and I was infected. This type of infection can cause you to turn septic quickly. They told me that my life was at risk at this point as well as the baby's. That night I talked with my husband and my parent's. I prayed about it and the only logical thing to do was to allow them to remove the cerclage and allow him to come. That's not what I wanted but at that point, it was inevitable. He was coming anyway. He was born about six hours after they removed the cerclage. I begged them to help him, he came out crying and breathing but they wouldn't offer any life support because according to them he wasn't "viable". I was livid, heartbroken and numb all at the same time. My poor baby lived for 2 1/2 hours while my husband and I held him and loved him. Due to covid, they wouldn't allow our daughter in to see him. She didn't get to see him alive only at the funeral. It's been four years and I'm still not over it. Never will be. I just lean on Jesus and press forward. He comforts me and I know that everything is for a reason. I have included a picture of our little man: His name is Ross Jaransa Dye IV. He is named after my husband, his dad and grandfathers. Thank you for taking time to read our story.

God Bless, -Lisa Dye