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          This is Shaina's story. As difficult as it may be for me to tell and as hard as it may be for you to read...Shaina's story must be told.
            The first couple of pages are part the rough draft for a manuscript I have begun writing, although it's far from perfect. Someday, I hope to publish a book for her.

   The ball dropped in Time Square, as it did every year at midnight. People cheered and celebrated together, bringing in the new year. For many, it meant a whole new beginning, a time to start over. The night was bursting with happiness and promise.
   I barely noticed the excitement, as the brightness of the t.v. filled our living room with flickering lights. The volume was purposely turned down low, so wouldn't hear the screams and applause from the crowd. I faintly heard the bang of gunshots and firecrackers, followed by the sound of dogs barking somewhere in the distance.
   I paid no attention to the happenings around me, as I layed wrapped snuggly in my old, black comforter on the couch. I managed to turn over and cover my head. I was in my own little world and that's where I wanted to stay. I had no intentions of joining the festivities. My head was throbbing, while thoughts of all that was taking place in my life at that moment, all far beyond my control. My thoughts had absolutally nothing to do with the new year. I certainly didn't feel the cheer that everyone felt and I had no reason to celebrate a new beginning. For me, it was an end to everything I ever dreamed of and hoped for; an end to my life.
   I closed my eyes. They were still burning from crying so long and so hard. The poison from my tears had burned my face as if it had been lite on fire. I tried to sleep, but even rest itself was impossible to achieve. My entire body ached like never before, but felt strangely numb.My heart also felt numb. Maybe that was my way of adjusting to a shattered heart.
   Sleep just wasn't going to come. I glanced over at Matt, while he dozed off and I knew he needed all the rest he could get, so I tried not to move a muscle. I just couldn't hold it back any longer. Tears, once again rolled down my face, burning deeper into my skin. I thought about how I layed on the same couch, just days earlier; wrapped in the same blanket, feeling nothing but extreme joy. I was 6 months pregnant and I loved nothing more than to feel my baby's kicks and flips within me. They were becoming much stronger and more frequent with every passing day. I could hardly wait to see those tiny feet that had kicked me constantly.
   As I layed there, resting my hand on my stomach, I knew not to expect those kicks that had once been so reassuring. Maybe I really did expect to feel them. Maybe this was all just a horrible nightmare.
   The contractions hadn't started, as they were supposed to. I knew the medication that I was given wasn't working. The baby girl I was carrying wasn't ready to be born. It wasn't time. My body and soul weren't prepared for her birth, either. But there was no choice, it was just a matter of hours.
   My 17th birthday had came and went the day before. I had been a New Year's Eve baby and now my daughter would be a New Year's Day baby. Her due date wasn't for over 3 months. April 15th was the magic day,circled in pink on my new calendar.
   It had been on my birthday that Matt and I went in for that life-changing doctor's appointment. We had a big day planned, which included going iceskating (I never really pictured me in iceskates, being that far along), and going out for a romantic dinner to celebrate. Later, I found out that Matt had a special proposal planned. He was going to ask me to marry him in the middle of the ice rink. It was supposed to be a day I'd never forget. That's exactly what it was.
   It all started on December 30th, when we went in for my regular check-up, expecting to hear that fast heartbeat we had heard many times before, each time being just as exciting as the last. We had always joked that the sound reminded us of horses galloping. In the waiting room, I remember feeling a bit more nervous than I'd been at past appointments. It was a nervousness that I couldn't explain. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I could sence that something wasn't quite right, most likely a mother's intuition.
   The doctor, a young-looking man, who in some ways resembled Doogie Houser; had been my doctor for less than 8 months. I think the first time I'd ever seen him was when I'd been suffering with extreme pain in the lower, right side of my abdomen. I had become terribly nausious and thought that I might possibly be dying. I hadn't wanted to go to the doctor, but after 3 days of eating basically nothing and being in tremendous amounts of pain, I went in and seen him. Finally, a surgeon had pretty much narrowed my symptoms down to appendicitis. I slightly remember hearing my doctor disagree with the diagnosis. The surgeon had been right and I was sent in for emergency surgery. I was told that if I hadn't of been operated on at that moment, my appendix would have ruptured and it would have been a whole lot more serious.
   We finally were called back into a patient exam room and after another 10-15 minute wait, which wasn't at all unusual; the doctor came in. I can't say I remember a lot of details after that point, but certain things are stuck in my head. The doctor listened for the heartbeat, with his little hand-held doppler device. He couldn't locate the heartbeat. He continued to search around for a little while and then explained to us that sometimes the baby is turned wrong and it wasn't that uncommon not to be able to detect the heartbeat everytime. It sounded a little odd hearing him say that, but he was my doctor, after all, so I felt that I had to trust his judgement. He had never had any problems picking up her heartbeat before, so not finding it this time was uncommom for us.
   The doctor calmly told us to come back in the following week, to try again to locate the heartbeat. But instead of waiting an entire week, we made an appointment to come in the next morning before going out to celebrate my birthday. I definatly couldn't have enjoyed myself; worrying that there could possibly be a problem.

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