I was 22 years old and had been reunited with my high school sweetheart just one year prior. When I got pregnant I was overjoyed at the prospect of having a baby. I had the urge to be a mother from the time I was 17, when my mother had a surprise pregnancy. Due to her health she gave the baby up for adoption. But before she did, I had the privilege of looking into those beautiful baby-blue saucer eyes of my tiny 5-pound brother. I melted.

So it was with great excitement that I shared my news with everyone I knew and came in contact with. I couldn't wait to see an ultrasound or hear the heartbeat pounding out of the doctor's Doppler. Thoughts of motherhood fleeted through my mind. The sounds of a baby's cry, the touch of his or her tiny fingers, the feel of baby's breath on my cheek. I simply couldn't wait!

I was only 6 weeks along when I started to bleed. I phoned the doctor in a panic. That day I went into the office for an ultrasound. But everything was normal. There he was, just as alive as can be. The technician pointed to a tiny flashing speck on the screen, which indicated the baby's heartbeat. I was instructed not to panic and to keep the doctor informed.

So I went home, unsatisfied, even after seeing the living child on that screen. Several days passed and I continued to bleed ... and cry. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. I had told everyone how excited I was, and now only a week later everything had changed.

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