4 weeks ago I found out my body failed me. Failed us. It made a baby and it grew in the wrong place. It grew a baby in my fallopian tube and not in my uterus. It got so big. It was approximately 7 weeks old, and then there was no room for it and it had to be removed, along with my tube.
And I was pretty upset at first that I was pregnant. Because I’m a planner, because I was content with two. And because I was one of the 3% that got pregnant despite precaution.
But then I was ok. Because HCG hormones. Because baby smells. Because I knew that unique, never-to-be found again moment of meeting something you grew and nurtured in your body for all that time. Because the magic of that first latch of breastfeeding. Because you can get lost in all that. Of course you can. And I would have given you all my love.
And then it was gone. Just like. That.
And that baby is irreplaceable. And I’m angry.
They’re telling me the loss will be so overwhelming I’ll want to have another baby now. They’re telling me, I’d risk my body, which is very busy and important raising two beautiful boys, to have another. They’re telling me I’m never going to get over it until I have another one. Those words.
A baby is not a puppy. You, 7 weeks old. You are irreplaceable. You won’t be forgotten. I could have 10 children, and you would not be forgotten, nor distant in memory. I carry 4 scars on my belly from surgery to remind me, but even without them, I’ll still remember.
You’re still young, they say. What if you change your mind? I have keratoconus in my left eye. I don’t even know if the preventative surgery I had for that worked. There’s a possibility I might need a corneal transplant. What can progress keratoconus? Pregnancy and breastfeeding.
I have one tube. I have an increased chance of another ectopic pregnancy and a chance of becoming legally blind waiting for a corneal transplant. It’s not overly likely thanks to science. But science has been against me lately.
I have two…not one, TWO beautiful, crazy, busy, boys. Every time I say “I love this age. It’s a good age” something else happens with Tom and I think “Actually, I like this age too!” I am LUCKY. So, so lucky in the pregnancies and births of these children. They are happy and healthy. They both breastfed. They are beyond inquisitive and excited about life. Please don’t tell me I have ‘just’ two children. Please don’t tell me they are not enough. Please don’t tell me the third that didn’t get to join us is replaceable, or needs to be replaced. Just, don’t say anything. Our journey is our own, and you are not to judge.