Five months ago I lost my baby. I was 14 weeks pregnant when I miscarried. I had problems throughout my pregnancy, but my doctor told me I had a very good chance of carrying the baby if I could get past 12 weeks. Everyone told me that I didn't need more, and I should give the baby up, but I loved that child as I love my other children. My husband and I couldn't deal with things and separated while I was still pregnant, and divorced right after my miscarriage. I was in the hospital for an ultrasound when I found out that the baby's heart had stopped beating. The technician wanted me to go empty my bladder so I could go talk to my doctor, but when I did the baby came out too. I cried as I sat in the bathroom with nurses and aides around me. I was alone though. There really wasn't anyone to share my grief with. Once my doctor got me in a room, he allowed me to have time with the baby, which he said was a boy. I think the time alone helped me through a lot of it. I named my son David Joseph after family. I would be due any day, and my arms ache for my child. I wish I would have taken more time with him. I still feel as if there was more I could have done while I was pregnant to save my baby, but it is too late now. He is gone.