The story of a boy….well, he was much more than that to me……
This is the 12h in the series.
Before I begin; let me say that this post will most likely not be funny. And it might contain information that upsets you and not in the usual way with offensive language and politics…..but in a human, sad and guttural way. I may very well ramble at times and for all of these things: I am genuinely sorry. Please read Parts 1-11 before reading this. It will just make more sense that way.
Monday arrived and my husband took the day off to go with me for the amniocentesis. I had never had one~ it was weird but not very painful. The OB pronounced that the fluid was clear and looked perfect.
and now more waiting
and more worrying
In talking with my coworkers one day at lunch~ one of them was asking how I would handle the "worst case scenario"......she went on to explain that she is unsure if she could raise a child with Down's Syndrome......I said "that my friend is NOT the worst case scenario". She sat baffled.....I went on to explain that even having an amniocentesis puts the pregnancy at risk~ risk of infection, risk that the baby is hit with the needle, risk that having the amnio would cause my membranes to rupture, risk that I might loose the whole pregnancy because I chose to have a procedure~~ and THAT was my worst case scenario....losing the baby because of the amnio only to find out that the baby did not have Down's Syndrome. She was stunned silent. Eventually she processed what I had said and with a tear in her eye she said : oh my God I never even thought of that.
****I**** thought of THAT...and thousands of other 'worst case scenarios"......I thought I might just worry myself to an early grave.
The results came: I was carrying a baby girl and she did not have Down's Syndrome or any other genetic abnormalities.
That call brought me such a profound sense of relief. But it also brought a profound sadness. I said early on in this story that I had *always* pictured having 2 boys with DH.....that is what I had in my mind for 10 long years.....and learning that my dream, my picture of the way I *thought* my life would turn out, my dream of having 2 living sons died with William and I grieved for him all over again.
And like a scab ripped off of huge injury and opening a painful wound~ just that fast~ the waves of grief and sorrow came. Relentlessly they came. Washing over me and threatening to drown me. I was RIGHT back where I had been 7 months ago~ I was devastated again over the death of my son. I wasn't sure I could carry on~ the pain was so great. And it wasn't until one sleepless night when my crying woke my husband~ that some hope and happiness returned~~ and he held me in his arms. And I apologized to him that I could not give him 2 living sons. He took my face into his hands and he looked in my eyes~ he said he loved me~ he loved all of our children and he said he would not love our baby girl any LESS. It was the reassurance I needed to move on. But just like grief itself~ acceptance and healing is a process~ not an event. This particular part of the grieving has returned over and over........but it gets easier.
In the next two weeks I allowed some hope and joy to sneak in. By this time I was showing and people were telling me I was 'glowing'........I don't know about all that~ but I was feeling better and looking forward to the third trimester.
And then it came~ out of the blue it came~ I was not sick~ I had no premonitions or sense of impending doom~ but there I was reading a book to my dear two year old son~~ tucking him into bed~ and I stood up off of his bed~
and IMMEDIATELY with no warning my pants were flooded and I was standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid. I was 20 weeks 3 days pregnant standing in a puddle of fluid~ and I thought I MIGHT just die.