​On November 12, 2003, my life was forever changed. I was 36 weeks pregnant with my first child Ivyanna Salene. Like any other, it had been a busy day, and it continued to be as I cooked in the kitchen and organized some things. Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t felt my daughter move. Warily, I sat down and tried to figure out how long it had been since I felt her last. Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Patiently but nervously, I waited for a movement that never came.

I called my then-husband and shared that I hadn’t felt the baby move and wasn’t sure what to do. He said he would leave work and come home, but not before stopping at McDonald’s since we knew she loved their french fries. I agreed with him; yes, let’s try those fries. While I waited for him to come home, I called the doctor explaining that I had not felt my baby move for quite some time. They told me to drink a cold glass of water and call them back in 30 minutes.

Quickly I drank that water. Meanwhile, those fries arrived along with my husband. While I ate the fries, we shook my stomach and talked to her, attempting to cajole her but still no movement. Reporting back to the doctor, they suggested that I come into labor and delivery at the hospital.

At the time, my home was Charleston, West Virginia, so we went to the Charleston area medical center’s labor and delivery floor. Once again, we explained what was going on. Immediately, they took us back and hooked me up to an ultrasound machine to see if they could find a heartbeat.

​Silence consumed the room as they searched and searched.

I looked at my husband; he looked at me. We still didn’t comprehend what was happening. At one point, the nurse left, and the doctor returned, searching a bit longer. Eventually, the doctor told us that no heartbeat could be found. Our baby had passed away.
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Intense shock consumed me, as did a numbness. I couldn’t comprehend how to deliver our baby, so I asked many questions. Were they going to give me a c-section? How was I to deliver the baby? What will happen?

The doctor described the process, labor would be induced, and I would endure contractions and full labor and physically give birth to my daughter even though she would not be moving. We were devastated.

Induction commenced, we were in the hospital for a short 26 hours, and eventually, I gave birth. 

Sadly, as they had said, she wasn’t breathing.

Captivated by her, we took her all in, spent time with her, held her, took pictures of her, and named her -- Ivyanna Selene.

During the weeks and months that followed, I was in a daze. It seemed like wherever I went, people excitedly exclaimed, “Oh, you had the baby! What did you have?” It was too overwhelming. All I could do was break down each time because I didn’t know how to answer their question.

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Then one day, a neighbor yelled out her window. “Oh, where’s the baby?” Scrambling into the house, I cried. She was fearless in following me to ask about my baby once again. Bravely, I told her what had happened. She too cried, but not for the reason I thought, which was the simple sadness of our story. Instead, she shared her story with me…her son was born still as well.

This was a turning point for me. As this woman graced me with her experience and wisdom, I began to understand that I wasn’t alone.

Working through my feelings took a long time. After my neighbor, I didn’t talk to anybody about it for a long while. Depression was my constant companion. Ultimately, time moved on, and I knew so must I.

Even though it’s been 20 years, I think about her and imagine if things had turned out differently.

​Would she look like me?

What interests would she have?

How would she be doing in school?

What would her favorite subject be?

Could her favorite color be purple, just like me? You think of all those things and wonder what might have been. As my life continues, I carry her with me every day.

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I cannot do all the good that the world needs, but the world needs all the good I can do."
- Jana Stanfield