Dominick - in the hands of god - a fitting name for our lovely little boy who died in utero at 35 weeks. Like my first pregnancy, this one had been uneventful. I was healthy, Dominick was an active baby, and neither my OB nor I had any doubt that our family would be soon be blessed with a second child. Six weeks before I was due, I went to spend two weeks with my sister. Every night she sat with her hand on my belly feeling Dominick's kicks and acrobatics, and marvelling at how much he moved. Shortly before I left for home, the acrobatics stopped. There was nothing. Movement didn't slow down gradually, it disappeared entirely. I will never forget the walk to the hospital the afternoon we found out (we live only 15 minutes away). The power of suggestion is strong, and having convinced myself that nothing was wrong, I was on top of the world. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, the snow was melting, the birds were singing...