'She is perfect, too perfect for this world'

I called Jose from the doctor's office bathroom to let him know that I was in fact pregnant. I remember crying when I told him because I was afraid, but then he said to me "It's going to be OK" and I believed him.

My pregnancy was very pleasant. I never had morning sickness or weird cravings, and as my pregnancy progressed so did our anticipation of meeting our baby.

Pretty soon, it was Christmastime and the countdown for our baby's arrival began. Our baby was due Jan. 14, 2014, but my maternal instinct told me she would come early. One of the most vivid memories Jose and I had of our baby was one morning as we lay in bed, I awoke to her playful kicks and I quickly grabbed Jose's hand and put it over my belly and said, "Daddy's hand is here, let us feel you." She gave us two quick jabs and it was so funny and sweet.

I started to feel my baby coming on a Monday night, Jan. 6, about 10:30 p.m. I was at my parent's home hibernating because of the storm. My husband was out of town and my parents were only a few miles from the hospital. By midnight, my contractions intensified, so I called my doctor and notified her of my condition. She suggested to remain as comfortable as possible at home before coming to the hospital. My mom reassured me this was the best plan. I had already called Jose to let him know the baby was coming.

I was excited and nervous, but I was also uneasy because I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Was this it? Was I having contractions or were these Braxton Hicks? At this point my dad was outside digging out the car and getting it warm and ready for me. I decided to wait because the contractions were not consistent at the 5-1-1 (5 minutes apart, each a minute long for an hour) that we were taught at our baby class.

Next, I felt a real sharp pain in my abdomen and thought, "OK, this is it!" This is what everyone told me of what the pain should feel like, but the pain was different for some reason, almost as if my baby was trying to shift positions.

Little did I know this would be the last time I felt my baby. Just like that the contractions subsided.

Something inside me told me something was not right. Could my baby be in danger? I quickly disregarded those thoughts and feelings and went on believing that maybe I was having false labor. My dad would have cleaned off and warmed up the car two more times before we headed to hospital because I wanted to be certain I was in labor. Jose arrived and we all went to the hospital together.

The nurse quickly strapped me into the bed and started to place all the monitors on me. She searched around my belly for the baby's heart beat but found nothing. So she searched again and again and again, and I thought to myself, "why is it taking so long to find the baby's heartbeat?"

I suggested placing the monitor lower on my belly and nothing. She did this for a good 15 minutes and by this point there were two nurses trying to locate our baby's heart. I kept thinking, "This machine is broken. Get a new one."

Next, they took this wand like device and sent tiny pulses to our baby, and nothing. Finally, they called for an ultrasound tech. My doctor had already arrived. The tech had a very solid look as she maneuvered the wand on my belly.

I asked her, "Can you see my baby's heart beat?" She replied with silence.

I asked her again but this time pleading and begging. She said, "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to say anything."

We waited for what seemed like an eternity for our doctor. As soon as the doctor walked into the room, I already knew the horrifying news she was about to deliver.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "There is no heartbeat. Your baby is gone."

I felt my life was over at that instant.

From that point on it just felt so unreal, like I was in a horrible nightmare and I couldn't wait to wake up so I could be with my baby.

My husband and I held each other and cried. My mom held me and cried. I couldn't believe what was happening. I couldn't understand what had gone so terribly wrong. I had just felt our baby move a few hours ago. This couldn't be happening to me, to us. I had a healthy baby! She was not a sick baby, she was perfect! Every checkup had been fine, why did this happen to our baby?

All I could do was just cry and cry. I wanted to die right there along with my baby. I still had to muster up enough strength to deliver our baby and all my fear of the physical pain of the birth was thrown out the window because I knew the worst had already happened and nothing after this would trump the pain I was feeling.

At 4:15 p.m. Tuesday, Jan. 7, I delivered our Aida Catalina. She was 6 pounds, 11 ounces and measured 22 inches.

We had decided my husband was going to announce the sex of our baby rather than the doctor and I remember Jose crying to me, "It's Aida, it's Aida!"

Once they handed Aida to me, I remember thinking, "My God, my baby is so beautiful. She is perfect, too perfect for this world."

Everything about her was just so perfect and I couldn't believe she was mine. She had the tiniest nose and softest red lips. Her skin was the fairest ever, with long blond eye lashes and chubby cheeks.

As we held Aida, Jose said to me, "We made such a beautiful baby. My daughter, our daughter."

I melted hearing him say those words because all the anticipation and excitement of Aida's arrival was finally here, but it was different.

We wouldn't be bringing her home to her beautiful nursery and we wouldn't be bringing her home to meet her puppy dog, Traviesa. We wouldn't be having sleepless nights with her or teaching her elimination communication, an alternative to diapers. All that we anticipated for nine months wasn't going to be happening.

I remember leaving the hospital the next day so empty, devastated and in a nightmare state. As they wheeled me through the entire nursery wing and down to the car, I closed my eyes and cried. I was supposed to take my baby home. She was supposed to be in my arms and we were supposed to strap her into the baby seat that her dad put into our car.

I never imagined I would have to plan a funeral for my baby. My family made all the arrangements because the days that followed until her funeral were excruciating, cold and numbing. I couldn't fathom life without her, I couldn't get over the fact that I would never get to hold her again, see her take her first steps, hear her first words and see her grow up.

I felt as if I wasn't a mother. I had all this love and milk to give but no baby to give it to. I had to prove to myself that I could be mother and that Aida did exist, because at times I did not believe this.

At Aida's two-month anniversary, I still had milk and I decided I was going to pump it out and share it with another baby who needed the help. Aida's best friend was born 22 days after her and I pumped all of Aida's milk to help feed her friend. I felt so close to Aida during that time as if she was on the receiving end and we did so well together. We were naturals. I had finally experienced that bonding moment every mother has with her child. For me, this was one of the most fulfilling moments in my life and made me feel Aida as if she were still with me.

This still hurts me now, but I've come to better accept what has happened. Together with our families we are coping better with Aida's absence because we can still feel her presence.

I remember asking Aida at her burial, "Please don't forget to come to Mommy and Daddy," and she hasn't.

She shows us her presence through her giraffe. Aida was buried with her Sofie the giraffe teether toy that my mom and I just loved when we first laid eyes on it while crib shopping. We made sure she took it with her and now Aida shows me giraffes all the time. I know it's her way of coming to me and I'm grateful to God for that.

I'm grateful to God for making us parents to our Aida. She continues to bless and guide us from Heaven and gives us the hope and strength to continue to heal. It has been a challenging road to walk, but Aida has left her mom and dad with great pride and, most importantly, with great love for her. We know we will be together again and do all the fun things moms and dads do with their children.

We love you, Aida Catalina, and we can't wait to hold you in our arms again, our sweet perfect angel!