LJ Idol Week Two:Uphill, Both Ways, Barefoot [and Pregnant]
October 29, 2009 § 27 Comments
This time last year I lost my second pregnancy in a row. The first I lost in August; the second, early October, and the third– well, I’m holding that little miracle in my arms as I type this. Getting pregnant, staying pregnant, having a baby and raising one have been an immense struggle for me. It seems that things that come so easily to others must be fought for in my life.
When Matt and I got married, I said “I want a baseball team!”
Matt said, “Um, let’s let God decide.”
One year later, after not trying, but not preventing either, we said “Let’s try!”
We tried for almost a year.
Then the doc said, “Your thyroid is outta whack! Take these, and it’ll be better.”
So I did. Within a few months, I was pregnant. A week after hearing the heartbeat, I bled, and soon, I wasn’t pregnant again. Within a month, we had another Big Fat Positive. But when I went for my first ultrasound, my womb was empty.
We said, “Let’s stop trying till we figure this out.”
But by then I was pregnant again. Apparently fixing the thyroid makes for uber-fertility.
The doc said, “Your hormone levels are too low. You are going to lose this one as well. But take these just in case.”
So I did, and soon we heard a heartbeat. But there was something wrong with my mind. I was depressed and wanted to die.
The doc said, “You have to be medicated during your pregnancy, but it could hurt the baby. Take these– they are safest.”
So I did, and still I landed in the hospital twice for extended stays. But ultrasounds showed that my little girl was ok, so I was pleased.
After 36 hours of labor, and two hours of pushing, a tiny baby was placed on my chest with golden hair and a more than passing resemblance to Winston Churchill.
But the difficult labor had twisted her neck, and she couldn’t nurse well.
The doc said, “Just give her a bottle.” and I said, “No. I’m going to fix this.”
So the chiropractor did, and soon, she was nursing beautifully.
But then the doc said, “She’s too skinny, you don’t have enough milk, give her a bottle.”
So I cried, because why does everything have to be so hard? But I gave her bottles and continued to nurse, and soon, it wasn’t so very hard anymore.
I said, “I want more!” But Matt said, “No. It’s too hard, and I don’t want to risk losing you.”
And so I cry. For my lost children and the ones I will never have.
But I rejoice in this one precious gift who says “I love you!” with her eyes every day, and who is worth all the struggle and uphill battles it took to have her.
I would do it all again for her.