Finding the courage to try again Part I
Two pregnancies!! I will never forget that unbelievable day. I can’t recall the doctor’s name or his face but his words will always be with me. “Did the nurse tell you about the pregnancies? You are pregnant with twins.” I was in such shock that I did not know whether I should be excited, scared or both. I called my husband and he thought I was joking. Believe me at that moment I was definitely not in the mood for jokes. I remember calling my mom and my friends on the ride home because I just could not believe how God had come through. Yep, he was rewarding us and giving us “double for our trouble”, so we thought anyway.
My husband and I had been trying to get pregnant for a few years and our hopes had continuously been shattered with negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test due to my diagnosis with polycystic ovarian syndrome. Although I had a strong faith in God I experienced many low moments in my struggle with infertility and now it was all over. I had finally been able to conceive and we were blessed with not only one miracle but two. Wow, I felt like my tears were not in vain and my devastating struggle was finally ending. I had no idea that the true pain was yet before me.
The entire pregnancy with our twin girls was filled with ups and downs. We would receive disturbing news about the pregnancy and then we would later get reports of hope. Throughout the entire time I was carrying, KJ and I both kept the faith and we believed that our baby girls were going to arrive into this world alive and healthy regardless of the odds. When September 22, 2010 arrived things had taken a horrible turn. The day before I had gone into preterm labor despite the fact that I had been given an emergency cerclage a month earlier to prevent that very thing. I will never forget going for a routine doctor’s appointment on August 18, 2010 only to be told that I would not only need emergency surgery but to also eventually be told that I would not be released until my babies were born. I was only 18 weeks pregnant at the time.
That day in September yet again brought about words that I will never forget, “You have an infection in your uterus. We have to deliver your babies today.” That was truly a blow that neither one of us were prepared for. That explained the fever I had for almost a week, the vomiting and the chills. The doctor made it very clear that my baby girls were dying and so was I. Their organs were already infected and the only option was to deliver. There was no way either one of us would survive if I didn’t. Unfortunately that day I witnessed the stillbirth of both of my baby girls.
How could this be? How could such a miraculous time in our lives turn into something so horrible and devastating? What had I done wrong as the woman? Did I not eat enough? Had I made God mad? Was my body cursed in some way? All of these were questions that I dealt with for months after we buried our baby girls. I cannot explain the hurt and feelings of failure I personally dealt with as the mother who could not protect her babies. How could I go to a routine doctor’s appointment feeling my babies move and come out a month later preparing for a double funeral? How could I make it out alive and my baby girls die? After such a traumatic end how would I ever find the courage to try again?
