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My Mom was sick. She had blood clots in her leg that traveled to her lungs. Her leg had swelled to twice its size. Doctors were trying to thin her blood, keep the clots from traveling to her heart or brain and killing her. She had a surgery and survived, but my fragility never recovered.
I started talking to my boyfriend, at the time, about my fears. I didn’t want to raise my baby without my mother’s input. We were living together, but not married, but fear decided getting pregnant made sense. He obliged.
We tried for several months and each time I took a pregnancy test, there was a negative sign. I was a woman in my 30’s with no children. There was always that fear in back of mind that I wasn’t capable.
One day, I came to my boyfriend, feeling defeated and on the verge of tears, and I said maybe I can’t get pregnant. I felt defective and afraid he would reject me. I asked, what would you do if I can’t get pregnant? I had people tell me that I would never have children or that I wasn’t the “type to have a family”. He hugged me, kissed my forehead and said, then we can adopt.
I relaxed and stopped taking tests. Then, I started feeling sick. We were enjoying our anniversary and I cooked food that we both loved, but my food made me vomit. Then, things I normally liked made me feel sick or vomit. And, everything I smelled made me feel horrible. I knew something was off.
I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I took six more and they were all positive. I sat on my bed staring at all six in disbelief. When my boyfriend came in, I showed him all six and he was excited.
We enjoyed our bliss for a few days. I got it confirmed from my doctor’s office. And, then we made the mistake of telling people. They weighted in with their concerns. I was also going through stressful situations with family at the time. Very few people were supportive.
One night, weeks later, I was laying on my boyfriend and I felt a sharp pain in back. I laid there with the first one, but the second was demanding. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I felt the urge to pee too. I looked down in the toilet and saw blood.
I started screaming and crying. My boyfriend ran to me and comforted me. My brother was with us at the time and he volunteered to take me to the hospital. We spent hours of tests for them to tell me it was too early to tell if anything was wrong. They made a printout of my HCG levels and told me to visit my physician. I didn’t leave feeling confident.
The next day, I woke up early, called out of work and went straight to my doctor’s office. The doctor listened to me and took the information from the ER. He ordered the test and they said I was pregnant which had been confirmed before. But, he would call me when they knew my HGC levels. If they were climbing by double then I had a healthy pregnancy. If they were falling, then I was miscarrying.
We went home. I remember both of us were exhausted. We laid across the bed and were awakened by the ring of the phone. The doctor let us know that my HGC levels were dropping and I was losing the baby. He said it was probably a genetic abnormally and the body rejected it because it was natural, but all I heard was failure.
We had to go back to our families and tell them there was no baby. My sister in her excitement brought me a statue of a beautiful pregnant woman caressing her child. And here I was childless. I never considered that once I got pregnant that I wouldn’t carry that baby to term.
In my mind, I had her all figured out. I had her name. I pictured helping her walk. I saw her being headstrong and fighting me. I saw her going to her prom. I saw her marrying someone. That whole future died as those HGC levels decreased. And, I felt inadequate.
My first Christmas and my first Mother’s Days felt horrible. It was a reminder of what I didn’t have. My boyfriend tried to understand but even his patience grew thin. I couldn’t stop picturing what might have been. I couldn’t go to the baby showers of friends. Everything was a reminder of what I loss.
I still miss my possibility and I am trying to make peace that I may have missed one chance. But, it doesn’t hurt as much and I know I wouldn’t have been the parent I wanted to be. I was doing it for self-serving reasons. I am much more serene and compassionate. I believe everything happens for a reason, but this was my story.
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