I really considered not writing this post and weighed it over and over again but here we go in spite of my anxiety.
I have loved babies for as long as I can remember. I love the way they smell, their baby talk and spit bubbles and I especially love the joy and levity that children bring to the world. I always knew that I wanted to be a mother and knew that I wanted two children; two because I have siblings and I can’t imagine life without them.
Last year I was pregnant with my second child and I was so excited and so naive as I got on my blog and declared it to the world. Shortly after my declaration I miscarried and that was definitely a tough time in my life but I was renewed with a sense of hope that I could try again. My midwife told me that it was more common than I thought, apparently one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage. I talked about it openly and formed bonds with women who had been through the same experience and I vowed to try again.
I became pregnant for the third time in May of this year and was overjoyed but hesitant to get too excited. I was happy that this time around we were finally in our new home and that life was a lot less stressful. This time around I was much more cautious and did not announce it to the world, in fact I told very few people as the memory of the last pregnancy was seared in the back of my head. Then on August 9th I began spotting and went a little crazy, I paged my midwife and told her as I choked back tears that I felt something was wrong. She asked me if I wanted to do an ultrasound just to reassure me as she said “spotting is very common”. I readily agreed and the next day was off to have the ultrasound. It dawned on me I was back in the same clinic around the same time in my pregnancy that it happened last time and I could not get that out of my head. I was going through the motions but it felt like déjà vu. The ultrasound tech would not tell me anything which reminded me of last time and left me thinking “Oh no, please not again!” The ultrasound tech told me I had to go to visit my midwife for the result and even though somewhere inside I knew what she was going to say I was hoping against all odds that she had good news. She did not have good news instead her news made me want to scream; “You’re young, you can try again.” I hope practitioners everywhere learn that those six words offer no comfort, especially the second time around. This time I was even more heartbroken and numb, thinking “Why me, why is this happening.”
Today I still don’t have any answers as to why me and why this happened again. I am taking it day by day; some days are good days and others not so much. Writing has always helped me heal; it forces me to confront the things I am feeling instead of burying them. I could write these thoughts and never share them but I do because I know someday someone might read them and relate and it might help them heal.
I know today I am thankful to my daughter for the joy and laughter she brings to our lives. I am also thankful for photography because if I never again bear another child of my own, photography allows me to interact with babies all the time, which renews my spirit and brings me great joy. I get to capture some of the most important moments in people’s lives and I never took that for granted but now I have a new found reverence for each image I take.
I don’t know if Nyla will ever have a biological sister or brother but I am thankful she has a brother in her cousin Stefan and a sister in her cousin Khaleah. I hope she will cherish those bonds for the rest of her life.
Gina.
