My baby embryos:
The room is quiet tonight. I have on a single lamp, and the rest of the room is dark. I should be in bed, but I can’t help but think of you in the still silence. I’ve lied awake so many nights lately, thinking about you.
I think about Alex, too, your brother, and how lucky we were that he was chosen during our first IVF cycle and he is here with us today. But I wonder about both of you. I wonder about who you are, and who you will become.
I am afraid. If you didn’t exist, I think Daddy and I would still want another child, a sibling for Alex. Then, other times, I wonder if he is all we need. I feel this way because I wonder if I am equipped to carry you, after what happened before. But I have that feeling in my heart that we are not done.
I talk to the doctors about you when we go for visits. They check on Alex, but I know they are checking on me, too. They assure me the stroke that Alex had was a fluke. They reiterate over and over that it was not my fault…that the stroke was not of me or of Alex, but of the placenta. They remind me that when a mother is close to her due date, the placenta begins to form clots to prevent her from bleeding out during childbirth. That somehow, a little clot found its way into your brain. That next time, the doctors will monitor me, and I’m at no more of a risk of this happening again than any other mother. I may be on a baby aspirin, or take medicine to thin my blood. If…
…if there is a next time.
I’m angry at that stupid clot. I’m angry that it’s caused us to wait longer than we would have to try again for one of you. I’m angry that it’s snapped me into this reality of what could happen…even when you do everything right. I’m angry at the bitterness this stroke has caused (and that infertility has caused). I feel so much has been stolen – ripped out from under me, and I’m just along for the ride.
My mind turns back to you again…and I play this tennis match in my head over and over again. I pray to God that he can help me through two more pregnancies so that I can bring you both to term and into this world, healthy and happy. I pray that someway, somehow, Cleon and I find the courage to try again. I want so badly to meet you. I wonder what life with three children would be like. Alex has brought so much joy to us and to our families…what if we can bring two more of you into this world?
I want to know who you are. I want to see your little faces up on the ultrasound screen again, hiding from the camera, all squishy and alien looking. I want to carry you, and feel your arms and legs move around. I want to protect you from all the craziness of this world, and hold you close.
You, my baby embryos, have already taken life…to me, I am your mother. The next step is there, waiting…we just have to decide when and if we will take it.
So tonight, I will think about you. I will pray for courage. I will pray for strength. I will pray that, in time, we will be able to meet you…if there is a “next time.”
I love you both,
Mom
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” – Joshua 1:9