October 1998: I returned from the pharmacy where I had filled a prescription of horse-sized pain medication; I had swallowed the first bitter pill without water as I walked up the store’s aisle to leave. The doctor had said the pain of miscarriage was like a difficult period, but he was wrong. Desperate for comfort, I called Mr. Andi, even though he had just started a new job and couldn’t leave work. He didn’t want me to be alone, so he called my dad to come stay with me. My dad walked out of his business meeting without explanation and drove directly to the house, where he found me in the bed, half-clothed, with my hair partially wet from the hot soak I’d taken earlier. It didn’t matter what the doctor called it, I knew I was in labor. Labor without the happy ending.
July 1999: In June, Mr. Andi and I were looking eagerly forward to up-sizing our family from two members to three. In just two weeks’ time, we had gone from ecstatic to devastated; our baby girl was not going to survive. Triploidy. Chromosomal disorder – like Down syndrome, but much worse, they said. And then – hemorrhage. Dangerously low blood pressure. Nurse yelling to “Get the G-dd-mn doctor NOW!” Labor again – complicated and life threatening – and still no happy ending.
December 2002: Another hemorrhage, this time in the middle of the night, and our baby wasn’t due until March. Mr. Andi put his head in his hands and said simply, “I can’t do this again.” Five days later, after all interventions had been exhausted, our tiny baby was born and placed in a plastic box with a bundle of wires and tubes. We worried that she might die, like the two that came before her, but she didn’t. She grew and grew and became a lively, vivacious young girl. A young girl with cerebral palsy. Labor for a third time, this time with a near miss.
March 2010: I was pregnant again, unexpectedly, and due in April. Our family of three piled into the car and headed to the hospital where we would soon become a family of four. An IV, an epidural, a brightly lit operating room, and then a beautiful sound – my son’s first cry – filled the room. A few moments later, a visit from the on-call pediatrician. Down syndrome. Mr. Andi was clearly devastated. At first, I couldn’t take it in. I calmly asked questions, then made a phone call to my sister.
Today: It’s been over a year now since my son was born. For a long time I waited for the other shoe to drop – I expected a massive workboot of Down syndrome to one day kick me in the teeth and cause me to collapse in grief over the death of my dreams for my son. But the boot never came. Yes, my baby has Down syndrome. No, it is not a tragedy. My son is happy, healthy, and beautiful.
Motherhood has taught me that life is not perfect, but it is valuable. I have two angels in Heaven, and two here on Earth. Sending those angels to Heaven was painful, both physically and emotionally. But my angels in Heaven led me to this place – this wonderful, beautiful place in life – where I can more deeply love and appreciate my two angels on Earth.
That’s a good thing.
So…so…beautiful. I love the sparse telling of these huge events.
Loved this: “life is not perfect, but it is valuable.” So, so true.
Thank you so much. I have traveled a long and winding road to get to this point.
I’m guessing you have lots of details, emotions, thoughts that could have blown away the word count this week. But I really appreciate the brevity, and how hard the words you did choose hit me. I felt it all.
I love a story about appreciation. Great job. beautiful babies.
Came by from TRDC.
I definitely could have written more – the second “labor”, in particular, was very difficult in a multitude of ways. It couldn’t have been adequately retold in a single post if it were the only subject, but the events also weren’t the message. Thanks for stopping by.
I feel bad commenting on the miscarriage part but it’s the part that speaks to me this afternoon: After my miscarriage, a woman I worked with told me that I had no idea what I was talking about, when I compared the pattern and pain of the miscarriage contractions to the pattern and pain of labor.
It hurt me deeply. After three labors, I know I was right, but at the time, I didn’t. But miscarriage labor is in so many other ways worse. Thank you for writing about the sorrow because I firmly believe that we must share about these difficult times to give comfort to those who experience it after we do.
Actually, I think the woman stated an absolute that isn’t true for everyone. I’ve talked to a number of people who have had miscarriages and it seems that everyone is different, and the level of severity can even vary from pregnancy to pregnancy for the same woman. I was in labor off and on for several days with Sarah Kate, and the pain never was worse to me than my miscarriage. The same goes for my other two labors – the second pregnancy was bad in a lot of ways outside of the pain aspect, and with Nathan, I was high risk and having a C-section so they didn’t mess around and took him pretty quickly.
TMI, I’m sure, but this blog is all about “keepin’ it real!” 🙂 All that to say, I really think it varies.
He is really beautiful. And he looks very happy in that photo.
Thank you, Jennifer. To me, he is beautiful, inside and out.
Lovely, just lovely.