Two years ago, I was blissfully pregnant. I was nauseous, exhausted, and having trouble
walking due to a pinched nerve, but still joyful and so, so happy to be
expecting a baby come winter. At 9 weeks
along, we had gotten passed the misdiagnosis of a blighted ovum scare that
happened from 6-8 weeks. Everything was
perfect. I had a great job, a wonderful husband,
great extended family, owned a home, and I was pregnant. Everything was just perfect. I was moving at just the pace I wanted. Then 3 weeks later I received Mira’s initial
diagnosis, and it was like I got hit by a train and my whole life derailed over
the next 6 months.
Over the next six weeks while we underwent tests and saw specialists
and the news got worse and worse with each test, my life was in triage mode,
just pushing through the chaos. I kept
working and pushing through everything. I couldn’t take time off; I needed the
money and insurance. I needed PTO saved
for a maternity leave. This is how things
work in our country, no time for a break during a crisis, because the benefits don’t
allow this. I did everything I used to,
while also fighting for this little life inside me.
After finding out no treatment was available for Mira and
moving to a palliative care team, life moved at a strange pace. I wanted time
to just stop, but it moved forward just like it did before. I filled every moment
I could with special time with Mira. I
talked to her in the car as I drove between sessions at work. I sang to her. I read to her every night between dinner and my
early pregnancy bedtime. Joe and I took
her to so many places and described them to her. We took pictures and prepared for her birth
so we could squeeze everything into the time we would get. The
world spun on around us, but for Joe and I, that time was lived in a bubble of
nothing but Mira. When you only get a
few months with your child, you need every second to be about them. We invited lots of people into our bubble and
they got to know her too and share many special moments with her. We invited some people in who walked away
instead, but we just stayed in our bubble of love. Time moved on while we existed in this
bubble, and I was aware of every second going by. Then she was born and died and our bubble
continued in the hospital, but burst with an indescribable amount of pain as
she was wheeled out of our room by a nurse, never to be seen by us again.
