Angel Babies

Life and death are utterly out of our control . I absolutely accept that death is a part of life the same way that birth is a part of living. Part of that organic beauty of that mystery or bigger-than-usness also leaves me with a sense of fear.

There are things that I cannot explain within my own understanding. The loss of a child, miscarriage, infertility, illness. These are things i only know how to explain through simple phrases like, the world is broken. Words do not sum
Up the complexity of emotions we feel during life’s circumstances.

Over the past 8 years I have been pregnant 4 times. I’ve had one cesarean . I’ve had one vaginal birth. I have two living absolutely precious children.

I’ve battled perinatal mood disorders, PTSD, misdiagnosis-rediagnosis-undiagnosis-recovery-relapse blah blah, allergic reactions to medication, RX amplifying suicidal thoughts, birth control causing numerous side effects, and PMDD. I am in, what now seems like, a rare window of somewhat clear thinking.

And this pause, this little break between hormones and mental illness has me questioning once again, am I fit to be a mother? Am I worthy. How will I continue on, making my life an offering to The God who allows it?

Having met and witnessed mothers through their struggles with infertility or parenting, I am forever prideful of the strength we have as humans. I want to add to that strength I see. I meed to be a benefit to all of us.

And while Ive continued apologizing about my inability to say the right words or help the right way when another human suffers, particularly when a mother loses a child, Ive also began to see why I continued to fear hurting that mother whose had a miscarriage. Part of the reason is because I never knew what to say to myself after my “chemical pregnancies”.

I’ve had two times where I felt I was very obviously pregnant, one of those I tested positive on a pregnancy test. The other I never tested. I missed for certain 1 full cycle in one, 2 in the other. 2 weeks late. 4 weeks late. 6 weeks late. Both times I was over 8 weeks past my last period. Then, cramps. bleeding. intense emotions. confusion, no control. no answers. no more chance of life.

I told myself, this was part of living. This is natural. This is what our bodies do. Too many women watch every sign for pregnancy, getting involved in things that were once unverifiable. There’s nothing left to trust. Then of course I know that they were before 13 weeks, a heart beat was never seen, no appointment was ever needed for an OB, so I must certainly not call it a miscarriage. But what do I say then?

Yet, as I’m preparing to celebrate life during Easter, my heart is stuck on never recognizing the passing of the possibility of these two lives.

It is time.

I think I need to say that I know for sure that there were two brief moments in my existence where another life’s potential passed through me and continued on.

I’m thankful for those two moments. I am sorry I could not serve you, little lives. I hope one day I will be prepared to meet you.

I know I always feel that another’s struggles are rightfully theirs, we can’t take them away, they are not ours to lessen. They are not to be compared to our own. I send my deepest sympathy to others who’ve experienced loss that I cannot understand. I am sorry if I have offended you by my actions or lack of. Please forgive me.

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About anderzoid

Life is Bittersweet. God is love, the rest is minor. Ever evolving. Incorporating the ancient & alien into the home environment.
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