It was Super Bowl Sunday 1988 and I was 14 weeks pregnant. The Friday before I had called the doctor and he had told me to stay off my feet for the weekend and he wanted to see me on Monday morning. This was back before we had cell phones (I know it's hard to imagine) anyway it was Super bowl Sunday and Arnold and I were not Christians yet, Josh was 2 years old. Arnold went to the store to get some groceries and snacks for the game. I started having these really bad stomach cramps and started to spot. I went to the restroom and the baby came out you could see that it was a boy. I was hysterical, and Arnold was not there. I was in pain I went to the phone somehow found the number for Vons and had him paged. I remember him coming in and picking me up and the baby both of us crying put me in the back seat and rushed to the hospital. I remember Josh saying mommy is my brother o.k?
I know that there was something wrong that is why I miscarried but I learned something through all of that. It was a life it was a baby, I could see his body parts. I don't understand how anyone can say that it was not a life. I remember one of the hardest things for me was when I asked what they did with my baby and then said they threw him in the trash. I asked why and they said because he was not a baby yet. I'm told them they were wrong and that they should not just tell women that they throw them in the trash. His name would have been Bryan. I often wonder how his life would have been and every Super Bowl Sunday I can't help but think about him. I know he was a person and I know that he is in heaven and someday I will see him.
