If I thought opening up about cancer was hard, Life has a funny way of proving me wrong. I have been and am heartsick for the past year.
The SO and I have been on a very long journey to start our family. We have always talked about wanting children of our own – we’ve even argued about silly hypotheticals, such as whether same sex or co-ed schools would be better for our future children and how much pocket money is ‘reasonable’.
But the truth of the matter is we currently don’t have any children. We came very close – late July last year, I fell pregnant. For two weeks, we were elated and excited that this part of life’s journey was finally happening for us. Then at our first scan, we discovered something was terribly wrong and after several weeks of checks, tests and scans – and a lot of hoping, we had no other choice but to undergo a D&C. Tests later revealed our little one – a boy – had trisomy 16 – a common chromosome defect responsible for early miscarriages. He wouldn’t have made it past the first trimester, much less to term.
I remember waking up from the procedure and all I could do was cry. The nurses gave me water and the doctor came to pat me on the shoulder, but I couldn’t stop. I barely managed a nod when one of the nurses gently asked if I’d like to have the SO come in to sit with me (ordinarily visitors are not allowed in recovery).
Since then, my heart has been broken and my mind has been full of what-ifs. What if our first had been normal? He would be here now, born around the same time as the babies of several bloggers I know. The SO and I would already be calling ourselves parents.
And yes, there are moments I feel so much anger. At myself. At us. At women who care nothing for their children. At people who tell me to ‘relax, it’ll happen if you just drink a glass of wine’. At people who ask me why I even want to have children in the first place.
I obviously haven’t learnt to move on yet, and I wonder if I ever will.