Two years ago, we headed to the doctor to get the cytotec. Two years ago, I waited at home for the pain and bleeding to start. Two years ago, it only took about four hours for our little boy to miscarry. Two years ago today, it was also my birthday.
When I returned to the doctor after the miscarriage, she was shocked to learn I chose my birthday to induce it. She didn’t realize the alternative was worse. We found out the heartbeat was gone just the day before, and I wanted nothing more than to not relive my previous experience. I had waited it out with Baby Number Two, and the delay was torture. How could my birthday have been better just knowing my baby I carried inside was gone?
Two years later our lives are completely different. Baby Sprout revives our hope that I can carry a baby to term. Baby Sprout continues to grow, move, and (from I can tell) thrive. Baby Sprout renews our spirit after the universe tore it to shreds. Baby Sprout reminds us that all hope may not be lost.
While we can never replace the babies we have lost, and the harsh memories of my forever scarred birthday will never disappear, we are slowly making this day more positive again. Today, I refuse to let all our doctors get us down with their pessimism clouded in “what ifs” and “could be’s”. Today, I choose to not feel sad about the past, but rather remember what we have endured fondly as it has shaped us into the strong, courageous people we are. Today, I will feel special and once again enjoy the day that is meant for me.
So, happy birthday to Baby G and to me. Gladly sharing my birthday with our angel boy, I hope my 34th year will be joyous, lovely, and full of good memories. I’m off to good start.