I can remember it like it was yesterday. The excitement of having a baby. The thrill of being pregnant. Everything ahead of us. Then in a moment, the earth shattering moment, when I reached down and realized I was hemorrhaging. The panic in my voice that woke my boyfriend out of his dead sleep. The frantic drive to the hospital, the nurses telling me they had gone through it too. Threatened Abortion. The word that my mind screamed NO at. No abortion isn’t the right term. I wanted my baby. I didn’t want an abortion.
I remember the drive back home from the hospital, after midnight. I remember stopping at McDonalds for a Chicken Sandwich. I remember calling first my Dad, and then my Mom who was on a business trip out of town. I remember the bath. Bathing, trying to relax. Praying to a God that I wasn’t even sure existed. I remember lying back down, and at some point, going back to the hospital.
I remember the exams. One after another. Each painful. Each invasive. I remember the ultra-sound. The tech holding my hand. Though now that I am remembering back on it I think the Ultra-sound took place on the first visit to the ER and not the second.
I remember the Doctor coming in. Explaining how the cervix is shaped, how the uterus is like a lightbulb, and how my pregnancy though viable was implanted in my cervix and not in my uterus.
I remember the heartbeat. When I had the ultra-sound. I remember hearing the baby’s heartbeat. I remember the technician saying that the baby had a good strong heartbeat. Then I remember the Doctor saying there was nothing that could be done. The only way to stop the bleeding was to remove the pregnancy. Remove the baby. He called it a fetus. But to me it was my baby. My future. The one thing I wanted more than anything else in the entire world.
I don’t remember the surgery. I do remember waking up in the ICU. I remember crying, and praying, and talking to the “Father” at the Catholic hospital where I was admitted.
I remember going home after a week. Being told that I was lucky. They were able to fix it where I could still have children. I remember the depression. Deep, long depression that sucked me in, and threatened everything around me. I remember my boyfriend not understanding. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the baby, he just didn’t understand how I could change so much, essentially overnight.
I remember nine years of not being able to function on November 18th. Then I remember the year that all changed. When the doctor, and new doctor told me that they would schedule my induction. I would go into the hospital at 8pm on November 17, 2013, and by November 18, 2013 I would have my baby girl.
I still feel sad. Sometimes, a mixture of happiness and sadness. As I look at my son, now ten and think what life would be like if he had an older sister or brother. I don’t know why, but I think he would have an older sister. I feel like that baby was a girl. So, sometimes I am sad, thinking about what could have been. But there is my light, my joy, my beautiful baby girl who was born nine years to the day that I lost my first baby. A beautiful smiling, sweet, happy, and amazing young girl who is turning into an amazing young lady. Four years ago, my sorrow turned to joy and I embraced this idea, that after nine long years of suffering, depression, and sadness, I was given a gift to celebrate. I still miss that baby. I still remember every vivid detail of the day I lost her. But I am also celebrating. The doctors and nurses whose wisdom and care enabled me to have four more precious children. Today I rejoice.