Our very sincere thanks to everyone who had left words of encouragement and prayers in my previous post. The number of comments left both by old friends as well as new friends took me by surprise and touched us (me and hubby) deeply. We are also humbled by the love and concern that you have shown to us during this very difficult period of our lives, especially since majority of us have never met in real life before and only got connected through blogging.
Your friendship and support is something that we'd be eternally for as it helped us tide through the past 3 days.
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On 17June 2008, my husband I mourned for the loss of our firstborn... our Baby Lucas, whom I lost at 14 weeks of pregnancy. We struggled so hard through the devastating loss and what made it worse was that the doctor was not able to tell us why I was bleeding after week 8 and eventually miscarried.In Feb 2009, after 4 months of trying to conceive again, we were blessed with another pregnancy. I was over the moon and finally felt that there was something worth living for after the miscarriage. This time round, the pregnancy was a breeze... I ate the right food, did the right stuff and tried to rest as much as I could to protect the new little life inside.
6 months passed rather uneventfully as we slowly and cautiously started sharing the good news with family and friends. I enjoyed putting on the extra weight, not fitting into my 'normal' clothes, and even secretly enjoyed the typical pregnancy symptoms... i.e. calf cramps in the middle of the night, frequent visits to the toilet, water retention in my fingers, stretch marks on mybelly, etc.
At around 5.45am on 25June while I was still asleep, I felt a gush of water and it jolted me awake. I knew immediately what it was... my water bag broke. I also knew immediately that it meant bad news because I was only 24 weeks along then. Hubby and I sobbed all the way to the hospital because deep inside we already knew what the outcome would be. The doctors were very frank and told us in no uncertain terms that the chances of our baby making through it at 24 weeks is very bleak. Even if she survived, she'd most likely have:
1) lung complications because at 24 weeks, her lungs have not yet developed fully
2) brain damage due to the lung problem.. i.e. insufficient oxygen
3) infections
4) physical and learning disabilities
and the list went on... I guess I just 'switched off' at some stage.... it was just too heartbreaking. I knew we did not have a choice then... hubby and I have discussed this issue previously even before we got pregnant. We know clearly that we'd want our baby to have quality of life and the last thing we'd want is to bring her into this world to suffer. I guess this is a controversial issue.. some people may think that it's too selfish on our part to rob her of the chance to live. However, as her mom, I felt that it'd too unfair for our princess if she was not able to have a quality life... she's my baby, she deserves better... no correction... she deserves only the best.
I had big hopes for her... all the dashed hopes that I had for her brother Lucas were now pinned on this baby. I wanted to bring her up exactly the same way I was brought up because I had the happiest childhood, went to good schools, had decent grades, had the opportunity to go to university abroad, have a close-knit family plus extended family (including my in-laws) who doted on me, a good job with a pay that I cannot complaint about, friends whom I know I can count on anytime, a wonderful relationship with my hubby whom I love dearly, a beautiful home, an anti-social grouchy 10 year old dog (Huskee) and a crazy, destructive 1 year old pup (Hershey). I wanted her to have all these and more... I wanted to give her nothing but the best.
The only hope then was that I do not get an infection and somehow will be able to keep her in me for as long a possible so that her tiny little lungs have the chance to grow properly. That's when we were hoping for a miracle. That night when I had difficulty falling asleep, I put my hands on my now slightly deflated tummy and told Chloe that if she's tired of fighting or if she is in pain and wanted to give up fighting, I'd totally understand. The next day her daddy also gave her the same message... much as we loved and wanted her, we don't want her to be suffering because of our selfishness.
In the end, our sweet princess made the decision for us. I started running a fever, my white blood cell count have more than doubled and began to get minor contractions at 5am. It's a sure sign that I have got some infection. I was pushed to the delivery suite at around 11am and she arrived at 1416hrs after 3-4 long pushes. Hubby was with me throughout those painful hours and held my hands through it all. This is the second time we are going through labour knowing fully well that we'd not be going out of the delivery suite with a brawling, healthy infant.
They cleaned her up and placed her on my chest, and we were allowed to spend some precious time with her privately. Although she did not cry like other babies, she was still alive, I could see her heart still pounding against her tiny chest... We counted her tiny fingers and toes, joked through our tears that she's got big feet like her daddy, noted that while she had most of hubby's features although her lips are definitely mine, her hair is just begining to grow...She is about the length from my palm to my elbow and she looked so fragile and innocent... She is my sleeping angel. We kissed her gently and although she did not open her eyes to look at us, I really hope she knew that those kisses were from her mommy and daddy, who love her beyond words.
The too short time that we spent with her is something that I'd be eternally grateful for because it somehow proved that the past 24 weeks were not a dream, I did have a baby and she is perfect, only that she was too eager to see the world.. impatient just like her brother.. guess it's a trait they inherited from me cos patience is definitely not one of my virtues!
That night was so tough... I felt so empty, so helpless, so guilty, so lost, so betrayed, so robbed, so heartbroken.. As I was in the maternity ward, I kept hearing babies crying and the nurses pushing the babies to their moms for feeding every 2 hours. It broke my heart so much because while those lucky babies were warm and had their moms to feed and care for them, my baby Chloe was lying alone and cold in the mortuary. I don't even know how much I have cried, and surprisingly I discovered in the past few days that I still have more tears left in me.
It's really been hard... sooooo hard... I don't even know the right words to describe how bad it's been. I have not yet learnt how to cope with the loss of my firstborn only a year ago, and now I have to go through the pain all over again with my second baby. I can still clearly remember the pain, emotions, anger, hurt that I went through onlya year ago...
I am still searching for a reason why this happene to me TWICE... I am not religious, but somehow I think I must have done something really bad, or I must have been a really evil person to deserve this punishment.
I miss my two angels... and I miss them both so much and I love them even more... I'd do anything to be with them... They are an extension of the love that hubby and I share. I feel so guilty that I have failed so miserably yet again...
- I fail as a woman because I can't even properly carry a baby to term.
- I fail as a mom because I could not even protect my own babies.
- I fail as a wife because I cannot even give my husband a baby.
- I fail as a daugter/ daughter-in-law because I cannot give my parents/ in-laws a grandchild.
- I fail as a friend because I cannot give my best friend her god-child.
One year ago, I was brought to my knees and before I can even learn how to stand up and walk properly again, I am now back on my knees. This time, I am just simply too tired to even try and stand up. There's no more purpose.. no more goal.. so what's the point?
If there is a God out there, please tell him I have enough angels...
