Wednesday, February 23, 2011

butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away.

On Feb 23, the sonographer confirmed that the pregnancy wasn't going to be a successful one. Before he scanned me internally, he whispered, I know you're anxious and I whispered back, Yes, with a trickle of tear falling down, for I knew what he would find. No heartbeat, no fetus.

I was 9 weeks, 1 day.

Confused, anger, resentment, gut-wrenching sadness took over.

I rolled my eyes over and I started sobbing.

We waited for him to call my fertility specialist to decide what the next steps were. The clock ticked ever so slowly. Because I had T with me, it was hard waiting and I had to put on a happy face for him.

We decided to leave after 30minutes as T was getting impatient. We went for a walk along the park. Babes was running around with T and I sat down and lamented what a journey we've had to have T. Seeing specialist after specialist from Singapore, to Perth to Melbourne to find out what was wrong with us - why we couldn't conceive, only to have finally given us the reason and having him has been our miracle that I know we are both grateful for.

Because I was already showing at 7 weeks, a few friends knew I was pregnant. And some of them tried to "console" me after they knew I was down and out that, "It just wasn't meant to be". Since my infertility days, I have always hated that, "it just wasn't meant to be". does it give one comfort, knowing how much they want that dream to have a child? do you tell somebody who is going chemo and losing their lives, It just wasn't meant to be that you can't be here for your children. or do you tell somebody who is wheel-bound, it just wasn't meant to be that you don't have legs. It's the lost of a dream, lost of a flicker of hope, lost of what many many people take things for granted - lost of happiness in life. Because infertility and going through a miscarriage draws you and sucks you into a realm of depression so strong that sometimes even the strongest finds themselves so lost in this labyrinth of darkness and gloom.

As I laid on the operating table yesterday to have my d&c again (the first one was in 2008 when I had to remove my endo, ovarian cysts, uterine fibroids and polyps), I cried hysterically. I had never felt so empty in my whole life. I knew that this was it. The anaesthetist who remembers me (he was my anaesthetist when I did my lap in 2008) and nurses were fantastic. They rubbed my head and wiped my tears away and consoled me like I would console T with ssshing, in time, you'll be ok.

Yes, to many, this pregnancy for us, wasn't meant to be.

On a flipside, it was.

It was meant to be that for an infertile girl like me, that I was given the opportunity (and it was just such an experience that I know so many fertiles out there take this for granted), to be able to conceive naturally, just this one time. It's like striking 4D/lotto for infertiles.

It was a beautiful, beautiful beautiful experience - no medical intervention, no stranger to have my legs opened to see what was wrong, no cold tools to go into my vagina.

Yes, we feel robbed of this pregnancy, of this dream.

Yes, we are sad.

Yes, we are both such emotional wrecks.

Yes, our hearts are just so broken.

Yes, our vision's just so blurry and they are just filled with tears.

And Yes, we will be ok...... in time





To my husband my son who have been kissing my tummy everyday to tell me that they love me, I know that it's meant to be you are here for me, through good and bad times.

I love you, babes and T. Today, tomorrow and everyday.

1 comment:

  1. I know I don't have the proper words to console you, but I am thinking about you. I'm so sorry for your loss. I hope time heals you, and I hope God gives you another chance to conceive naturally. Love you, friend. Many hugs across many lands.

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