This case keeps haunting my mind even now. When I was six months pregnant, my father was seriously ill, he knew he would be gone soon. He had always wanted to hold his granddaughter in his arms, but didn’t survive to do it.
My dad didn’t really want to die, he was still young, only 54 years. It turned out that I would have twins - a girl and a boy, and we were in 7th heaven. My father died, when I was put in hospital.
People told me: "Don’t go to the funeral being pregnant". But I didn’t listen, and I did pay my last respects to my father. I love him greatly.
After the funeral, I had a strange dream: my father, happy and smiling, was standing with a single stroller at the cemetery and shaking it.
I asked him: "Daddy, why there’s only one place in the stroller? I will have two children, won’t I". But he didn’tanswer me, just looked down and said nothing.
The next day I had an emergency cesarean section, because children's heartbeats couldn’t be heard. The girl was gone, although she was healthy and weighed even more than the boy - she was 3.1 kg, while the boy was 2.7 kg.
Dad used to say that he would be bored there alone, though he had always been kind, but a bit selfish. He might have taken my daughter with him, he had always wanted to have a granddaughter.
My advice to women in labour: please do not go to funerals.