Preface
As a child I wanted to have when I grew up, a large family. Lots of kids. Nine years younger than my sibling, I grew up alone, simply put.
Twenty-eight years into my life, I was rushed to the hospital by my parents with massive abdominal pressure and heavy bleeding. What I thought was a period turned out to be anything but. I was given needles for pain, blood drawn and advice to see my doctor as soon as possible. A subsequent appointment revealed that I had been pregnant, and suffered a first of several miscarriages. I felt numb, to say the least.
It took 5 more miscarriages that we knew about for my significant other and I to be referred to one of the top OB's in Ontario (and possibly Canada). After examination and a dye test, it was revealed to us that a full length uterine septum was preventing the fertilized egg to attach to the uterus. It would die, and my body would, painfully I might add, expel. It is not an experience I would wish on my worst enemy. I had a 1 in a million chance of having a successful pregnancy with the septum uterus. Upon hearing this it weighed on me that my body was killing my babies.
I was referred to a surgeon and the septum was removed. Three years later we were blessed with the birth of our son Christopher. 14 months after that, our second and final child, Joseph.
Now, what I want my would be children to know.
To the beautiful souls I never had a chance to hold,
Not a day goes by that I don't think of all of you. I do the math often and think about what could have been. Your birth, your first time at my breast, first smile, first tooth, first steps, first bike... the list goes on. I remember the guilt I felt each time I would wonder if you were inside me, only to find a barrier my body presented that took away your ability to survive. I am so sorry, I wish I could have known much much sooner. I wish I knew what I could have done to prevent the abnormality. I wish I hadn't been denied the chance to carry you, feel your movements inside of me, hear your heartbeats at routine checkups, hold you, learn about you, and be beside you in your early years. Time may have erased the pain to a degree, but it never faded the memory that even for the briefest moments I carried you. To this day I still carry the memory of that brief connection.
No one else will ever know the strength of my love for each and every one of you.. After all, you're the only ones who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside!
I don't feel that I will ever have the words to really show how I feel, and the enormous amount of love I have for all of you and my surviving babies. So to all of you, I say...
I Love You, Miss You, and your Mummy I'll always be.
In the words of Robert Munsch,
"Love you forever, like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Love,
Mummy
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| Reflecting on the past |
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| Aiming to feel comfortable in front of a lens rather than hiding behind it |
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| Looking ahead to the future |
