Irony that one of my earlier blogs was called Depression and Dead Babies...

So I haven't been blogging in.. forever. I am going to try to make a concerted effort to do it more regularly. Update time! So I have been single for a while and boy does it SUCK being the other mother. I think that's what I should have called my blog. Maybe I can change it. Anywho, I am the secondary mom because I was in a relationship with said childs biological mother for a long time and during that time I raised him therefore acquiring said son, who is awesome by the way. However co-parenting is a challenge to say the least, especially as the "other" mother.

But then that is the ideal..

So on to the irony! I decided to try to have a baby on my own with a donor! Ooooooh she crazy! Yes I am, a little. But I did it anyway. And I did it all by myself, well except for the generous contribution from my sperminator. I got pregnant pretty easily and was all excited as a person is likely to be. Everything was seemingly okay other than feeling nauseated for for the first 3 months and then ravenous for the next two. And after the first trimester everything is bound to be okay! .... NOPE! That is a total lie that society tells us.

The real truth is that most times when you find something wrong with your baby it's during the second scan at 18 to 22 weeks. The worst part is that there is this seeming collusion to minimize the concern over the pregnancy and telling the woman. "We should make an appointment for another test, but it will probably be just fine!" Well it PROBABLY WASN'T. I went at 19 weeks for my first second trimester ultrasound still blissfully ignorant and wondering what the sex of my child was. When the ultrasound tech leaves the room to go talk to someone and takes a while to come back, that's a bad sign, if you didn't know.

At that point it was off to the high risk unit, a week later. So I go in at 20 weeks and I find out my baby has a growth in her kidney, yes she was a girl, and a possible heart defect, oh and if that wasn't bad enough she had hydrocephalus. According to google:

 "Hydrocephalus is commonly referred to as "water on the brain." The so-called "water" is actually cerebrospinal fluid (CSF), a clear liquid that looks like water and is produced in the 4 ventricles (cavities) of the brain, connected by narrow pathways."

Now what google doesn't tell you is that because of all that extra fluid in the head, the brain doesn't have the room it needs to grow. Also they can't do fetal surgery for that while you are pregnant. I called other hospitals in other countries hoping for some kind of miracle doctor that could save my baby by putting a shunt in her head. But I was simply in denial. My childs odds were insurmountable. My doctor told me it was probably a genetic fluke and it just happens sometimes. They sent off some tests while I was going through one of the stages of grief, acceptance.

I came to the decision to have a termination. I never thought in my entire scope of life that I would EVER choose to terminate a life growing inside of me because any child I would have would have been wanted. I never even thought something like this could happen or would happen. It's the big huge thing no one talks about seriously, dead babies.

I had to wait another 4 days to get the termination. Four days that I walked around feeling her move inside of me. Four days I had to say goodbye to someone I thought would be a part of my life for as long as I lived. The first thing I did was call a friend to get me marijuana. I was losing my mind over the loss of my child and I knew at this point it wouldn't hurt her and it would help me to calm down so that her last days weren't all feeling my overwhelming anxiety and sense of loss.

I went to a quiet place, a park, and I held my belly and I talked to her and I apologised to her for not making her healthy. I told her I loved her and said goodbye. I was a little over 23 weeks pregnant (5 months) when I had to go in to the hospital and lay on a bed while a doctor put a HUGE needle through my belly and uterus and into my baby girl to put her down like you would a broken puppy.

It took the doctor 3 tries because she moved around so much. She was a fighter my little girl but in the end she couldn't run from it, and neither could I, there was no where to go. Then it took 3 days of waiting while medicine designed to begin labour was pushed into my vagina every few hours. I had an epidural not knowing that you can't eat after having one. I was starving the whole time and all I could have was jello. And I waited. For three days. But then I woke up in the middle of the night and felt different, hot and strange and I knew.

My nurse said maybe I should go pee, I didn't think so but I agreed to try. I sat up and blood and fluid ran down my leg ruining my new slippers. She was coming. My ex, who I have a long and complicated relationship with was the one that was there for me the entire time. We had shared losses in our past so it seemed oddly appropriate.

My child was born while I was holding the hand of Rachel the nurse on my right and my ex on the left. My eyes were locked shut but I felt her slip out of my body into the sounds of my crying, not hers. Both our eyes were closed and hers were never to be opened. I will always wonder what colour her eyes would have been.

I don't care what religious people say. My own aunt, my "god mother" basically called me a murderer in a facebook message to my mom. But I have a clear conscience because I took her pain. I took it and I carry it every day so she didn't have to feel it. She had peace and that's more than I will ever have. She will always be my little girl. She will always live in my heart. I will miss her endlessly.

Sorry this was hella depressing but this is a part of my life and it's a part I talk about because I don't want her forgotten, her or any of the other babies and mothers that have gone through this debilitating loss. Don't worry I have BPD so my moods change quickly I'm sure the next blog will be much more fun. But at least you know why the post was titled as it is.

I wrote this poem during those 4 days I had left with her. In the end I did get to see her face and kiss her but it wasn't healing for me. I just knew if I didn't do it I would regret it. But she was already gone and I knew and felt that. She wasn't warm, her belly didn't move up and down and her eyes never opened. In the end I grabbed my exes hand and led her out of that hospital. I left that hospital with a memory box, not a baby, and what kind of memories are in that box now? The saddest piece of my heart lives in that box.

Now if you have read this far then this is your reward. On the way back home with my ex driving of course, I had this overwhelming feeling that is very hard to put into words. It was like everything and nothing at the same time. It felt like the universe blanketing me in joy and absolute brokenness all at the same time. I can't really explain it but it is something I have never felt in my 33 years of living on this planet and she gave me that. I choose to believe that was her gift to me.