Hayden's Story *TRIGGER WARNING*

*TRIGGER WARNING* THIS BLOG DETAILS PREGNANCY LOSS *

In the summer of 2020, just before Sophia’s second birthday, I found out I was pregnant with Hayden. Early on, we had genetic testing done, and I was thrilled to learn we were having another girl. Instantly, I started imagining all the handmade matching outfits my girls would wear. Yet, as the pregnancy progressed, an unsettling feeling crept in. I felt like I wouldn’t be bringing a baby home at the end of nine months. It wasn’t fear—it was more like a strange premonition. I even joked with my pregnant coworker that it didn’t feel real, like I was only “pretend” pregnant. My doctor reassured me there was no reason for concern. But the feeling lingered.

At my 16-week appointment, everything seemed fine. Yet, leading up to the 20-week anatomy scan, the uneasy feeling got stronger. The night before, while on a FaceTime call with my sister-in-law, she asked if I was excited about the appointment. I admitted I was scared and expected bad news, mainly because I hadn’t felt much movement. But I had an anterior placenta, and my doctor had said it might take longer to feel kicks. Still, I couldn’t shake that heavy feeling.

When I arrived for my appointment alone due to COVID, the nurse struggled to find Hayden’s heartbeat with the Doppler. She eventually picked up what sounded like a faint beat, but it mirrored my own. My heart sank. Deep down, I knew what that meant. The doctor, trying to stay optimistic, led me to the ultrasound room. But when the scan began, it was clear. There was no movement, no tiny heartbeat fluttering on the screen. In the silence, I asked, “She’s gone, isn’t she?” The doctor confirmed it. I went numb. They gave me two options: a D&C or induction. Without hesitation, I chose to labor and deliver her. I wanted to honor her by experiencing her birth.

After leaving the doctor’s office, I was told the hospital was full and that I’d have to wait a few days for my induction. As I drove home, I made three calls—one to my husband, one to my mom (who didn’t answer), and one to my boss, letting her know I wouldn’t be coming back to work for a while. I then reached out to my friend Megan, who had lost her son Brix. She had been through this unimaginable pain, and now I understood what she had gone through.

When I finally got home, my husband, Seth, and I held each other in the driveway and sobbed. All I wanted was to be with Sophia. We picked her up from daycare, and I lay beside her during her nap, clinging to the small comfort of holding her close. Later that night, the hospital called. They had a bed ready.

Checking into the hospital was a surreal experience. The waiting room was filled with excited, expectant parents, while I sat there, empty inside, knowing I would leave without my baby. I was taken to my room, where I met Ashli, a nurse who became an anchor for me. I asked her for another ultrasound, grasping at the hope that maybe there had been a mistake, that Hayden’s heart would suddenly start beating again. But when I looked at the screen, the truth hit me all over again—she was truly gone.

Ashli stayed by my side, talking to me about Sophia and the names we had chosen for Hayden. She prepared me for what was coming and made sure I was ready before starting the induction. Contractions dragged on through the night, and the pain was more than physical—it was a heart-wrenching emotional agony. I begged my mom and Seth to take me home. Around 7 a.m., I knew it was time. Despite shift changes, Ashli stayed with me, helping me through Hayden’s birth.

Hayden was born in her amniotic sac, completely intact. I was scared to look at her, fearing what I would see. The doctor gently cleaned her and wrapped her in a blanket before placing her in my arms. I counted her perfect little fingers and toes. She looked just like Sophia. We named her Hayden Jean after my mother-in-law, and we spent the next few hours holding her and taking pictures, knowing these would be the only physical memories we’d ever have of her.

The hospital had a Cuddle Cot, a cooling bassinet that allowed us more time with her. We had her baptized that day, and my mom stayed with us as well. By the afternoon, I couldn’t stay any longer. The longer I stayed, the harder it was to leave. The pain of leaving Hayden behind was the most excruciating experience of my life. There are no words to describe leaving your baby in the bassinet and walking out of the hospital empty handed. We were never provided with a cause or reason for her loss. I had a perfectly healthy pregnancy up until it wasn't. 

The days after were a blur of grief. I felt empty, both physically and emotionally. My body, no longer pregnant, showed no signs of having carried her, which made the loss feel even more surreal. Going back to work was hard. I had social anxiety around seeing people, especially other pregnant women, as the sight brought a painful reminder of what I had lost. Seth and I grieved differently, and that strained our relationship for a while. He wanted to move on, while I needed to hold on to every piece of her memory. I still struggle with anxiety and fear around losing another one of my children.

Over time, I found a path forward by making something meaningful out of our loss. I nominated Ashli for a Daisy Award, which she won, and she ended up being present for the birth of our rainbow baby, Savannah. I also formed lasting friendships within the loss community, friendships that I deeply cherish. Hayden’s story has shaped me, and it has shaped Brittany Hartt Designs. We now donate to causes supporting bereaved parents, raise awareness, to make sure no family feels alone in their grief.

I also found healing through creating. I poured myself into making beautiful, lasting memories for other families through my work. Every piece I create has a part of Hayden’s story in it, a reminder of how precious and fleeting life can be.

Each year in the U.S., approximately 21,000 babies are born still, and one in four women experience pregnancy loss. If you would like to support families like ours, consider donating to bereavement support organizations or gifting a blanket in memory of a life taken too soon. Every gesture helps keep their memories alive.

Amazon Blanket Drive Wishlist: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/1VQTDNNO1V6RD?ref_=wl_share

In loving memory of Hayden Jean Hartt born sleeping on 11/13/2020