Having lost her son Michael, the heroine first counted the time without him in minutes, then in hours, then in days. Now 143 days have passed, and perhaps the time will come when she will keep a record in months and years.
“This was my second pregnancy, which was even easier than the first,” says a woman who decided to share her grief to help other mothers who are experiencing similar experiences in life. “I didn’t feel sick in the morning, and I didn’t feel immensely tired. But, on the other hand, I was scared that something was going wrong, and therefore felt great relief when I heard during the first ultrasound how the baby’s heart was beating.
At 12 months, the period of miscarriages was over, and it was possible to announce to the whole world about your situation. I wrote a text for Facebook, but for some reason I didn’t immediately click on “publish”. I had a strange feeling that I would regret this post later. Nevertheless, I managed to convince myself that it was paranoia, and the message was sent.
The next two months passed quickly. The belly was growing, the child was moving, and it was time to find out his gender. I was sure it would be a boy, because the pregnancy was so different from her first daughter. At 19 weeks, my husband and I came for another ultrasound scan, but this time the laboratory assistant, looking at the screen, invited a fertility specialist, who said that he was a boy with some organs lagging behind in development. “
“In the next three weeks, I visited many specialists and underwent all kinds of procedures to save my son’s life, but the level of amniotic fluid continued to fall. I learned what hell on earth is: carrying a child, not knowing whether he will survive or not. When he was 21 weeks and 6 days old, the child stopped fighting. But hell continued: the embryo had to be removed from the uterus. I was given a drug that induces real contractions, although the pregnancy has stopped. We were going to name our son Michael, and I “gave birth” to him with the help of surgeons …
The first week after giving birth was especially difficult. Nature is cruel: she doesn’t care if your child is alive, so the milk came, and I had to solve this problem too. It was even harder to answer the questions of a three-year-old daughter “where is the baby?”. She knew about pregnancy, stroked her mother’s tummy, sang him children’s songs and kissed him goodnight. The psychotherapist advised me to tell the truth, and after a few weeks my daughter stopped asking.
After three weeks, I decided to go to work to distract myself and stop crying all day. My boss wrote and sent all the employees a letter informing them that due to certain complications I had lost my child, but I don’t want to discuss this with anyone and I will be grateful if they talk to me only on professional topics ”, – .
“Over the next two months, rays of light began to appear in the deep darkness of my depression, but I cannot drive to work in my car, because there I am alone and there is nowhere to go from the thoughts that make me cry. It is very difficult for me to see other pregnant women and to be happy for my friends in position, but I try.
143 days have passed, and I have to get up every day and do the duties of a wife and mother. She still thinks about Michael every day and falls asleep in tears, but not every night. Not all my acquaintances yet know about my loss, and I am terrified of the formal end of my pregnancy when they start asking me about my baby. So far, I’m not mentally ready for this.
But I try to find something positive in every day. I hug my family all the time, because I realized how unpredictable our life is. “