A few years ago we weren’t too bothered about having children, and then Meg came along. She has considerably and positively added to our lives and we love her to bits. But we thought that she would be enough and we would continue to be a team of three. Then a few weeks ago Theresa and I started to think that maybe a second child would be lovely, and it would complete us as a family. There were many factors in deciding this, but it was partly that we didn’t want Meg to end up as a single child – I think that despite the battles siblings have they are far more rounded if they grow up learning to share and interact with others of their age. Also Theresa and I are both getting older and we thought that if we didn’t try soon then we might not be able to. And lots of our parent friends who’d had their first children when Meg came along were now having more kids. So we decided to try for a second child.
In early February Theresa suspected she was pregnant, and we did a test while at my parents. It came back positive and the whole family were so chuffed. We were ecstatic that it had happened so soon as well. We started making plans for the child, started thinking about names, stopped drinking so much wine, and so on. We never even considered that there might be any complications. Looking back on it now there were signs such as Theresa getting bad headaches and looking very pale, but we just put it down to early pregnancy.
Unfortunately on Thursday Theresa noticed some fresh blood when she went to the loo. We were concerned, but still thought things would be OK. But things got worse and Theresa went to a clinic to get checked, where we received the worst news that our unborn child had died at about 5 weeks. I’m writing this now to try and deal with the emotions, but it’s incredibly hard to put into words. We didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. Although the child hadn’t been born we had already started bonding with it. I always previously thought that any child that young was not a life yet, but having this happen to your own flesh and blood changes that perspective. This was a life, part of Theresa and I, and it had died. As I sit here writing calling it ‘it’, even that seems unfair. But giving the child a name somehow makes it even more painful.
I have been trying to rationalise the situation by saying it is not unusual and it happens to lots of people. We will move on from this and we will try again for another child. Sometimes these things happen and it was not through anything we did, sometimes things just don’t quite click properly. And it shows how fragile and miraculous life is, and how we should never assume anything or take anything for granted.
Being rational and staying busy helps to ease the pain, but I think it is masking it rather than solving it. Theresa and I have cried together and talked through how we feel. At the moment the whole situation is very raw and it will take time to deal with, and I think we will never forget it. Throughout this we have spent time with Meg and we appreciate even more what we have in this fantastic little girl. Luckily she didn’t really know what was going on, because I think she is too young to have to deal with this kind of situation.
So I write this to my wonderful and incredible wife, who I love more than anything. I am here for you and I always will be.
In early February Theresa suspected she was pregnant, and we did a test while at my parents. It came back positive and the whole family were so chuffed. We were ecstatic that it had happened so soon as well. We started making plans for the child, started thinking about names, stopped drinking so much wine, and so on. We never even considered that there might be any complications. Looking back on it now there were signs such as Theresa getting bad headaches and looking very pale, but we just put it down to early pregnancy.
Unfortunately on Thursday Theresa noticed some fresh blood when she went to the loo. We were concerned, but still thought things would be OK. But things got worse and Theresa went to a clinic to get checked, where we received the worst news that our unborn child had died at about 5 weeks. I’m writing this now to try and deal with the emotions, but it’s incredibly hard to put into words. We didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. Although the child hadn’t been born we had already started bonding with it. I always previously thought that any child that young was not a life yet, but having this happen to your own flesh and blood changes that perspective. This was a life, part of Theresa and I, and it had died. As I sit here writing calling it ‘it’, even that seems unfair. But giving the child a name somehow makes it even more painful.
I have been trying to rationalise the situation by saying it is not unusual and it happens to lots of people. We will move on from this and we will try again for another child. Sometimes these things happen and it was not through anything we did, sometimes things just don’t quite click properly. And it shows how fragile and miraculous life is, and how we should never assume anything or take anything for granted.
Being rational and staying busy helps to ease the pain, but I think it is masking it rather than solving it. Theresa and I have cried together and talked through how we feel. At the moment the whole situation is very raw and it will take time to deal with, and I think we will never forget it. Throughout this we have spent time with Meg and we appreciate even more what we have in this fantastic little girl. Luckily she didn’t really know what was going on, because I think she is too young to have to deal with this kind of situation.
So I write this to my wonderful and incredible wife, who I love more than anything. I am here for you and I always will be.
1 comment:
You are my brick, dear husband. I don't think I could get through this without you. I wish I had known whether we had a boy or a girl so I could give them a name and put them to rest, respectfully.
Thank you for always being there. I love you. Your Therese x x x
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