Last October (2015) I suffered a miscarriage. It was my second miscarriage but more traumatic because we lost the baby later on in that pregnancy and I had to be induced. In essence, I birthed that little soul into heaven. Before the anaesthetic kicked in, I remember begging the doctor to tie my tubes, to sterilise me, to do whatever it took to make sure I did not have to feel this loss again. I told him I was happy with my little girl being an only child. My last memory before the anaesthetic took affect was him telling Hunky Hubby that the decision was one probally made when I was more level headed.
I was angry, confused and felt betrayed when I woke up and I was not “fixed”. My body seemed to be a horror story that took 2 babies from us and I could not bear that thought of another loss. Rachel’s birth had been tough enough and I was genuinely ready to embrace being a mum to one.
Then, suddenly, I found myself staring at a home pregnancy test as the 2 pink lines appeared immediately. I sat down, laughed and then cried and dropped to my knees to pray. My prayer was simple – spare this baby, give this one a chance!
I suffer from severe morning sickness, it lasted until I delivered Rachel and this time was no different. I celebrated each day of misery as a sign of growth. Each doctor’s check was a milestone of what could be.
Finally, at 16 weeks (8kgs less) but feeling terrible still and with a healthy baby inside me, I feel myself relaxing a bit. My rainbow baby is growing.
Rachy is extremely excited, she is a full 4 years old and already a certified older sister. Hunky hubby has been amazing as usual. Through the tears, irrational fear of all food in general, and inability to stand the sight of the fridge (let alone open it) due to my garlic aversion, he has been the comforting force to my craziness.
It’s a constant battle to believe in the face of loss but it’s amazing how healing the sound of my baby’s heartbeat is. How Rachy’s butterfly kisses to my tummy reassures me that this little one will make it, that my body is now a safe haven.
For now I will concentrate on trying to enjoy these moments and instead of dreading what could be, I will embrace what is. I will try to smile politely when people tell me that my previous losses were not valid because they were “not real babies”and I will bite my tongue when they tell me what to do and what not to do to ensure “it does not happen again”. I will continue to silently pray for and shed tears for my heaven babies on the anniversaries of their entrance into the gates of heaven – despite being called “silly” or “overly emotional”. A mum is a mum, even if her baby did not make it all the way.
In retrospect, I am grateful to that doctor who dared to challenge my hormonal begging. I’m glad he waited, glad he gave me time, glad he afforded me another chance.
It just shows, what will be – shall be. Love and luck to you all, no matter where you are in your journey.