The Beginning of a Life Long Journey {a {still} birth story}

This post was written 2 1/2 years ago. It has been an honor to share this bit of our life with others, knowing that if even one life is changed, our Daphne’s short life was not in vain.

If nothing else, I want our story to resound with {hope}. And let that hope be what shines through it all.

This is the story of our journey so far.

I will start from the day our sweet Daphne’s heart stopped beating.

February 26, 2012:

A typical morning.

I was woken up at 6am by Daphne’s tiny toes doing an Irish Jig {in my ribs!}

This was a day I had been looking forward to for weeks.

Today was my baby shower!!!

Which meant, I finally got to get up and about for just a little.

I was SO over being on bed rest!

I got up, did my hair, got my outfit picked out.

Woke Evan and Eden up, got them ready, and we were out the door.


A maternity photo shoot to start the day.

It was cold.

But I couldn’t have been happier.

I had the three most important people in my life right there with me.




I was so blessed by my family and friends that were able to come and join us

while we celebrated the highly anticipated arrival of Daphne.

We had a wonderful time and officially had all the clothes this little lady could possibly need.

 {throughout the day I was noticing that D’s movements were less than normal but I thought being this my first time up and about in a few weeks, she was probably comfy, cozy, sleeping}

 The party ended and we headed home.


I was so worn out from the day.

I needed a nap!

I laid down in bed to rest a bit and my fears kicked in.

On a typical day just laying down would get Daphne doing somersaults in my belly.

Today… nothing.

So I rolled over to coax her to move.


I rolled again.


Evan could sense that I was uneasy so he got out our heartbeat doppler to take a quick listen.

We couldn’t find her.

I tried with all I had not to panic.

I called Dr. Covey who very sweetly encouraged me to just go to L&D and have them monitor me.

Knowing how insanely active Daphne always had been, she assured me that she had just squished into a funny spot so we couldn’t find her.


As calmly as we could, we got E up from her nap and headed

to the hospital. We called for someone to meet us there to take Eden.


First triage tech comes in.

First monitor, no heartbeat.

“Don’t Panic” she says “I’ve had bad luck with this all day!”

First Nurse comes in.

Same monitor, no heartbeat.

Doppler, no heartbeat.

{they wanted it to be there just as bad as I did}

Second nurse comes in.

New monitor, nothing.

New doppler, nothing.

“We’re going to go ahead and call Dr. Covey so she can do an ultrasound.”

Dr. Covey rolls in with U/S machine.

The moment she placed the wand on my tummy

{I knew}

No. Heartbeat.

She looked and looked and looked for what felt like an eternity.

Her head lowered.

She removed the wand from my belly, then she said it.

“I’m so sorry…”

I felt like everything inside of me was outside of me.

I felt like I was in a movie.

Watching some poor woman as she learned her baby had just died.

But, it was me.

~Thus begins the worst week of my life~


Basically I was in bed all day.

I wanted nothing to do with anything or anyone.


We saw Dr. Covey and decided that I would be induced the next day.

That night I had to figure out how to pack a hospital bag that didn’t involve all of Daphne’s baby stuff.

~And my Mommy came. Such a wonderful blessing.~

Wednesday February 29,2012

{Leap Day}


Evan and I woke up to head to the hospital for what we knew would be a very difficult day.

We prayed that morning that the Lord would meet us there and make the entire process a smooth and quick as possible.


At the Hospital getting checked in.

The nurse that admitted me was the same nurse that delivered and cared for Eden while she was a sick little newborn so that was a very special God send.

 Nurse Kim is wonderful.


Dr. Covey came in to see me and visit for a bit.

Between 7 and 8 we had about 4 people come in just to pray with us. What an incredible feeling, knowing that we were being covered in so much love and prayer that day.


IV Cath in. Pitocin flowing.

{at this point I was 80% and a tight 2cm}

Spent as much time up and about as I could.

Was NOT looking forward to that epidural.


Dr. Covey came in to check on me.

I was contracting pretty well but not really feelin’ it.

Still only 80% and 2.

So Dr. Covey decided to break my water to get D’s head engaged and try to get some good strong contractions going.

{I knew that as soon as this happened it was going to get painful but both Dr & Nurse were certain it would take a while}



Definitely feeling it.

Dr. Covey was adamant that I get an epidural and any other pain medication that I needed, as she did not want me to feel the physical pain of the process and I was thankful for her wisdom.


Called the nurse to let her know that I was hurting and needing something.

Anesthesiologist was in surgery so it would be another hour and a half before he’d get there so she gave me a dose of {Fentanyl}

Stuff. Is. Nuts!

With only half a dose administered I was


Couldn’t see straight.

Couldn’t talk right.

My nose felt like someone was tickling it with a feather.

but… the pain subsided.

Then I fell asleep.

(I have a very LOW tolerance to medication)


Anesthesiologist was available and came in to give me the epidural.



I asked the nurse to check me because I was

CERTAIN that I was progressing!


100% (yay)… stiiiiil sitting at a 2.

 I was discouraged and scared.

My fear was that this delivery would end in a c-section which would virtually end my chances of ever having

a natural birth ever again.

But both the nurse and Dr. Covey assured me that they were in no hurry and that it would be okay.

With the epidural set I tried to get some more rest since I wasn’t allowed to get up anymore and I figured it would take my mind off of the situation.


Woke up feeling contractions and pressure.

{So that means Epidural had worn off.}

Called nurse to let her know so she checked again.

100% and 2.5cm.


Scared and angry and everything in between.

I was losing my grace at this point.

I wanted to get off that bed, go home, and forget that {ANY} of this had ever happened.


Really feeling pressure.

Didn’t want to call the nurse because I didn’t want her to tell me I still had made no progress.

So I just stayed quiet, focused on my own through contractions, tried not to be obvious about how I was feeling, and didn’t say anything to anyone.


Apparently it was beginning to show on my face. Mom, Sabina, and Evan all zoomed in and asked what I was feeling. I just told them, “Lots of pressure, Kinda feeling like she’s {REEEEEAAAALLLLY} low.”

They all said, “Call The Nurse!”

 {I swear it was like they rehearsed saying it in unison!}


Called the nurse in and I told her that I felt like I needed to push.

She very kindly said, “I checked you only two hours ago and you were still at 2. I don’t think you’re quite there.”

But she checked me anyway.


She said “I can’t find your cervix” with a very confused look on her face. All the while with each contraction my body was pushing.

No stopping it.
No slowing it down.
It. Was. Pushing.

My nurse very briskly left and on her way out said to everyone in the room

“If you’re not going to be in here for the delivery, leave now!”

{very kindly, mind you.}


I started to panic.

“I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“I want to go home.”

But it was time.
I had to do it.
It {WAS} happening.


I can hear Dr. Covey {literally} running down the hallway.

She blasted into the room, put on a glove faster than I could say {“hi”}, tried to check me, and said “Oh!”


Threw on her face shield and cover and said, “It’s time sweetie. Give me a good push.”

Contraction hit.

I pushed.


And there she was.
Eyes closed.

In that moment all I could say was “Look at her.”

 Those words had {SO MANY} meanings in that moment.

I was overwhelmed by her lifelessness.

But I wanted everyone to see her.

She was immediately placed on my chest where she stayed for the next two and a half hours.

Daphne Grace Daggett

February 29, 2012

4lbs 11oz

19 1/2 inches long

11 1/2 in head

A head FULL of black hair

She looked more like her sissy than I ever expected.

We learned as soon as she was born the cause of her death. She was an active little lady from day one. The umbilical cord was wrapped once tightly around her neck then stretched down her back to her left ankle where it was sutured so tightly that Dr. Covey could barely remove it. Dr. Covey stated that in all her years of practice she’d never seen anything like it and was pretty baffled.

Between 2-4% of all stillbirths are caused by cord accidents. We just happened to be the very unlucky few.
{the good news in this is that there were no defects with me or Daphne. That is a good sign for us trying again in the future.}

 Our family and friends that were there came in to see her.

To say hello and goodbye in the same breath.

The nurses took her to get her dressed. We weren’t able to bathe her like we had hoped because her skin was already so fragile. Nurse Kim {who wasn’t scheduled to work} came in on her own time so that she could be with us and Daphne and be a part of this journey with us. We are {SO} incredibly blessed to have had the {MOST AMAZING} nursing team.

Daphne looked perfect in the little outfit that Evan and I had bought for her. The hat I made actually fit. And her little sockies matched.

Evan and I had some quiet alone time with her for another 2 hours or so.
I wanted with all my heart for her to just wake up.
To open her eyes and stare at us.

But she didn’t.

The nurse took Daphne {when we were ready} but assured us that if at any point we wanted to see her that they would bring her to us.

We tried to sleep.
I was afraid to sleep.
My tummy was empty, my heart was broken, and I felt as though I had been robbed.


A few more people came to visit. We did not have Daphne back yet that morning. The nurse came in and we decided that we wanted to say goodbye one last time.

I was so afraid to look at her face because I knew time would only make the appearance worse.

Her small, lifeless hand was uncovered so I held it, kissed it, and really didn’t want to let it go.

About 10 minutes later the man from the funeral service came for her.

That moment gutted me.

I was letting her go away. With a stranger! I wanted to run after him and take her back. But I couldn’t. I had to let her go.

We slowly and quietly packed our things and left the hospital empty handed.

I went home and went to bed.


We had a small service with our close family and friends.

It was quiet.
It was small.
It was perfect.

We praised God for his blessing of Daphne.
We mourned deeply our loss of her.
We spent our time being together.

I won’t say ~the end~ because friends, it’s merely the beginning.

Daphne changed all of us. People she never had the privilege of knowing have been changed by her.
The Lord used her in all her {tiny glory} to move mountains that I never believed could be.
My heart was filled by her.

I long every day to have her back but I know that she is in the arms of a Father that will care for her for all eternity. And that makes my heart lighter.

I want to thank each and every single person who prayed/is praying for us.
Please continue.
We need it.
Evan, Eden, and I {and our families} have been so deeply touched by the love and kindness that has been poured out to us from all of you.

As we begin this lifelong journey we trust that God will use us. We trust that this experience will be used to glorify Him.
And that one day, we will get to see our Sweet Daphne {dancing with Jesus}



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