babies

We been made to fear that should we complain, lest it might be snatched from us, should we for even a moment wish we hadn't done this. Some sort of universal karma. A punishment for your lack of gratitude.

A simple flu shot would have changed everything. It would have saved my family and I a lot of heartache; it would have prevented me and my son from facing life-changing health effects; and it would have granted me all of the stolen memories from that time that I now can’t get back.

I had a lot of well-meaning friends and family searching for the right words to say after my back-to-back miscarriages. So many offered solace by guessing at where my lost babies resided in the ether: taken away to Heaven, perhaps forever, perhaps waiting for a better moment— an unknown, destined time these small souls were meant to break into the world. I accepted these comments silently, because they did nothing to comfort me.

“It will be long,” they told me. “It will likely be days after your due date,” they advised. “Everything will begin slowly with breaks between contractions,” they said. They lied.

Becoming a parent is a blessed and sacred event. Never has there been a more life altering experience. No, seriously.

There was no reason why I should have miscarried, or so I thought. I found a thousand reasons to blame myself. Had I gotten enough rest? Was I getting enough nutrition? As my mind searched for answers and concocted a thousand reasons as to why this happened to me, I started to slowly fall into a depression.

By baby three, well let’s just say things are a little anticlimactic, at least where furnishings are concerned. Hand me down crib. Check.

They will