As the anesthesia wore off, Amanda Duffy kept her eyes shut. Before being sedated for an emergency Caesarean section, she had learned her baby had no identifiable heartbeat and only glimmers of brain function.
Opening her eyes would mean finding out what happened. Eventually, Duffy's eyelids cracked open to reveal a doctor in tears. The baby had red hair like her father. She was rosy and beautiful. And she was dead — born lifeless with the umbilical cord wrapped twice around her neck.
"That was the saddest moment of my life," said Duffy's husband, Chris, "watching my wife cry with the oxygen mask still on her."
That was four months ago. Now, the Roseville parents want to spare other families the same grief. With a Rogers, Minn., couple that also lost a child, they are lobbying the Legislature for a study to unlock the mystery of stillbirths.
The United States records 26,000 fetal deaths every year. But while infant mortality is considered a major health concern, stillbirths are treated more like family tragedies than medical problems, said Lindsey Wimmer of Eden Prairie, who lost a baby in 2004.
Wimmer formed the Star Legacy Foundation to call attention to the issue, which she believes has been muted by decades of blame and shame on mothers who lost babies to stillbirths. "In this country, 26,000 people dying of any particular thing catches people's attention," she said. "But for some reason, this has been a pretty taboo subject for generations."
Stillbirths, or fetal deaths, are defined in Minnesota as occurring at 20 weeks of gestation or later, but before birth. (Abortions are separate.)
In Minnesota, births are declining but 300 to 400 fetal deaths occur each year — and the rate is rising.