Most people would have fired their cervix by now. Not me.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
731 days ago
Exactly two years ago today, everything I knew and believed came crashing down around me. I experienced heartache like none other and I haven't had a day when my heart didn't hurt since then. Two years ago today, a perfect little girl was born. Two years ago today, a perfect little girl died.
Two years ago was the start of the most anguishing time of my life -- a time that has a very distinct beginning and if there's an end, I don't see it.
I wish I could say something that would ease your pain but I cannot. I can simply say that I am sorry, so sorry for the loss of your daughter and for your heartbreak.
That fact that you posted this shows just how strong you are, even though it might not feel like it. Your strength is there and has gotten you this far, even through the anguish.
Finally, this story has a happy ending. I have an incompetent cervix. First, you may wonder what asshole male doctor named this. I wonder too.
An incompetent cervix won't support the weight of a baby. When I was 19 weeks pregnant with a perfect (according to the amnio) little girl my cervix opened up and she was born. She was just too little to survive. We were devastated.
Learning that with my next pregnancy they can place a cerclage -- which basically sews your cervix shut -- we had hope. I got pregnant again, this time with twins. We never got to the cerclage as I miscarried at eight weeks.
In August, 2005 I gave birth to a very healthy, beautiful baby boy. My pregnancy was without complications and the cerclage never had to do its job because my cervix behaved -- so well I had to be induced and ended up having a c-section.
Fast forward a couple of years, I have an amazing son and tried for the better part of a year to get pregnant. Once we'd given up I got pregnant again -- this one ended in a miscarriage. "Not the best obstetrical track record" said my OB. No, indeed.
2 Comments:
I wish I could say something that would ease your pain but I cannot. I can simply say that I am sorry, so sorry for the loss of your daughter and for your heartbreak.
That fact that you posted this shows just how strong you are, even though it might not feel like it. Your strength is there and has gotten you this far, even through the anguish.
Been there, done that, wouldn't wish it on anyone ever. Did you get to hold her I wonder? I held my son, ten years ago. My heart aches too, every day.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home