I've been meaning to write our story. . . but it isn't over yet and something has been holding me back. Today, I am 28 + 3 days pregnant with our survivor. I am ecstatic, over the moon, thrilled to watch my belly bounce with my active, apparently healthy baby. I am scared beyond belief. When we lost the 2nd of our trio, I told myself it would get easier once this baby passed the first trimester. . . once this baby passed the anatomy scans. . . once this baby hit viability. . . once this baby comes home.
But will it ever get easier? For a while I was able to put our losses on the back burner. They didn't consume my every thought. I've lost babies before. . . none have been as hard as our loss from 2-1 this time. Losing the first of our triplets wasn't as hard, maybe because I never saw that baby's beating heart? Maybe because losing the second of the trio scared the bejeebers out of me and left me gasping for breath, praying that we would still have a baby at the end of this road.
Today, I try to feel confident that this strong baby will be coming home with us in 11 weeks time. My c-section is scheduled. My pre and post op appointments are scheduled. I passed my scans and was released from maternal fetal medicine to my regular OB. By all the statistics, I should be breathing a little easier now. We have a baby. Our baby is healthy by all measures. Even if baby was born today, his/her chance of survival is high with minimal risk of long term issues. So, why can't I breath easier? Why can't I go along in peaceful oblivion counting the days until my baby takes its first breath?
As our baby shower celebration approaches, I find myself more at a loss than ever. This was suppose to be a celebration for a TRIO, and then for a DUO. Now, it's a celebration (no less wonderful) for a SINGLE. . . and somehow, it feels anti-climatic despite our years of infertility treatments. We are blessed to be having this baby and I know that and I love this child with every fiber of my being. . . but I'm still waiting for him/her to be ripped from my womb. Will that feeling ever end? Will I become the hovering over protective parent that lives in constant fear of harm falling on my child? Will I one day be able to breath deeply and say, "my baby lives"?
Recently I had to go back through our baby registries and update everything to a singleton, and I spent many hours in tears. . . all the hopes and dreams that came with a multiple pregnancy are gone, those hopes far outweighed any of the fears and complications that I knew would come with the pregnancy as well. I wasn't frightened of the challenges that arrive with multiples. I was thrilled to have been blessed with the opportunity.
My oldest daughter is almost 13. . . she says to me, "I just don't understand why God gave us three and took two away". Neither do I, but I'm learning to trust that HE knows better than I.
Then there's the loss world and where do I fit in? I have at least four preborn babies waiting in Heaven. I believe they are in the loving arms of my Mama who went home to Jesus four years ago. I'm stuck in this between world. . . I have dead babies inside my womb, waiting for their surviving sibling to be born. Then we will bury our placenta with their remains and look for some closure to their loss. I don't fit in with the loss community, I feel like there are few that understand the complexity of my emotions. Yes, I am happy I still have a baby. . . but that doesn't diminish the pain of the babies I will never meet Earthside. The babies I don't get to hold and cuddle. . . it doesn't change the fact that I will look at this sweet baby when s/he is born and mourn for the loss of the ones who are no longer here.
When do I stop weeping when I see multiples out and about with their Mamas fighting with doors as they push their limo of a stroller through. . . when will I stop hoping that the Doctors were wrong and that somehow I'm going to miraculously deliver a healthy duo or trio? When will I believe that my survivor isn't going to be ripped away from me too?