Skip to main content

A Reflection On My Son's 18 Month Birthday

Two years ago Eric and I made the decision to start trying for another baby. We wanted our kids to be close in age like my sisters and I were. We wanted them to be best friends and spend hours bugging one another only to turn around and become inseparable.  So when we found out that we were pregnant we were overjoyed. We absolutely loved being parents to Henrik and couldn't wait for another little one to run around with him. Don't be fooled though, our excitement and joy was more of an accomplishment kind of joy, like we'd done it, again. It came so easy for us that we thought we were beyond lucky. But we both had this intense fear that we didn't know what to do with two babies. How on earth could we handle two of them?

I can't explain the panic I had over whether or not I could love another child as much as I loved Henrik. I couldn't help but think horrible things like "what if this baby wasn't as cute or smart or healthy?" Would we still love it just as much? Was I being ridiculous? A lot of people have more than one child, it must be possible, but how?

Just a few days after discovering that I was 7 1/2 weeks pregnant, I found blood after I went to the bathroom. Obviously concerned, I rushed to the ER to find out if everything was okay. After several hours, we were told that I was undergoing a "Threatened Miscarriage" What the hell was that? Couldn't they tell if I was pregnant or not? Was it going to live or not? Were we seriously talking about a miscarriage? Where did I go wrong?  Was it that glass of wine I had before I knew I was pregnant? Was I not supposed to have another baby? Was I being punished for thinking I couldn't love another child?

The M word. It's the naughtiest word I can think of. A word that has a connotation as strong as rape or murder, but this word is worse. It means you should be ashamed or embarrassed. It means you some how have failed and were unable to create life. This is a word that people don't say to one another. It's a word that isn't in the news or talked about among friends. It's a word that may only be whispered and usually has a response of "Ohhh" as the other person bows their head and shifts their eyes. It's a word that I will never leave me and will haunt me on doctor's office paperwork for the rest of my life: Two pregnancies, one child.

That morning after my lab tests, I stood for a long time just looking at myself in the fogged up bathroom mirror. I examined my body up and down trying to figure out where I, we went wrong. I found nothing. I looked at my tired eyes and long face trying to find a glimpse of hope that I had a few days earlier, but there was none. I looked at my belly and tried to determine if there was something still in there. In my heart I knew there was not.

When Henrik walked into the room he ran over to me and climbed into my arms. It was surprising as he usually only greeted Eric that way. Henrik buried his head into my shoulder and just laid there for a minute. He could tell that his mommy was sad. He knew. I hugged him back. Fully embracing his love and holding back my tears, I finally understood why this was all happening. I had learned that I could love another child. In five days I went from loving the idea of being pregnant again to losing a child and mourning the loss of something I hardly knew. It was possible.

Just 16 days after I miscarried, I got pregnant again. Of course I was terrified, but not because I was worried I wouldn't love it, I knew I would, this time I was worried that I'd lose another baby. As the pregnancy went on I had multiple freak outs, like when I started bleeding again at 7 1/2 weeks. When I saw the ultrasound of a little peanut wiggling around and saw the heartbeat, I was relieved but not at ease. They told me I had a Sub-Chorionic Hemorrhage, and they hoped it would clear up on it's own. It did by 17 weeks. At 21 weeks we had another ultrasound and discovered an enlarged kidney and that while it was common in boys, if it didn't clear up on it's own it could be a sign of other things. A month later, they checked again and the baby was totally healthy. Were we in the clear? Why was this child putting me through all of this?!

Finally, on January 21, 2012, Theodor William was born. He was perfect. In every way. And when they put that brand new baby on my belly I instantly fell in love with him. I had that connection with him right away and my heart burst with love and happiness, tears of joy streamed down my face. It was then that I finally sighed a breath of relief.

Today, that baby is 18 months old. That baby, who caused me so much stress and anxiety during the very long nine months I carried him, has grown into a full out rough and tumble boy who still causes me a lot of stress, just not in the same way. He's sweet and compassionate and says, "hold you momma?" "Kiss you momma?" while he steals toys from his brother and flashes a smile when his brother gets upset. He's the same baby who runs wild through the house but stops to give a hug to his brother as he passes him. He's full of spunk, curiosity, laughter and energy. He's delightful to be around, he's funny, smart and witty. He acts like he's at least two and will not take any kind of restraint, and will accept any challenge before him. And though there are days he gives Max and the Wild Things a run for their money, he's exactly what I wanted in another child. When he looks at me I can see his soul. When he smiles the whole room feels warmer, and when he is around his brother I know that Eric and I made the right choice to try again and have another baby. We've got two amazing children who love one another, are close in age, and are the best of friends.

Today, when I look at my life and what I have, I often think about the one I lost and if there will be any more. I don't know at this point. I do know that I am perfectly happy with what I have and the family dynamic we've got. I am fearful of having another child, but not that I won't love it, oh God would I love it, no, I'm just afraid that I may never have a social life or sleep again and I'm afraid of the things that three boys could do to my house. Or worse, what if next time it was twin boys!

The whole experience of pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood is one amazing journey. It's filled with ups and downs, loss and reward, sanity and "WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING".  I'll forever have to say, "Three pregnancies, two children" but I won't have to be sad about it. I can sit back in that uncomfortable doctor's office chair and say that the two boys that I have are the best gifts anyone could ask for and the one I lost taught me the most valuable lesson world.

Today, on Theodor's 18 month birthday, I sit back and realize just how quickly time flies. One day I'm sitting in a hospital bed holding my second son and before I know it I'll be celebrating his 18th birthday and high school graduation. There's no time to go back, life moves on, and at times I have to remind myself that instead of wondering what could have been, I have to focus on what is here and now. That miscarriage will always be in the back of my mind and a part of me, but  right now, I've got my hands full of rocks, feathers, fruit snacks and cars and all I have time to think about how I'm going to get Theo his next snack and Hank to wipe his own bottom. It's odd to think that a miscarriage can be a blessing, at least in my experience it was. I learned a lot about myself, my family and of course, without it, I wouldn't have had Theo. And that's enough to be thankful for.

Minutes old

18 moths old

Popular posts from this blog

Father's Day: A note to my Husband

Honey,  As I scramble around trying to find the perfect last minute Father’s Day gift for you, my father, my step-father, and your dad, I realized that for the last three years, your sons haven’t spent Father’s Day with their Dad. I have been with mine- all of mine,  but they haven’t been with theirs. The past three years of our life have been filled with struggle and separation, not due to marriage issues, but due to the military and the fact that sometimes, Dad’s have to be gone. When you are as young as the boys, sometimes that’s hard to understand, but now at age 5, our oldest is starting to figure it out. He often asks where you are or what you are doing. He questions why his dad has to be gone, and I am sure, that when Father’s Day finally arrives, we will have some issues to sort through with them. We’ve already sent the Father’s Day cards, but that was weeks ago to ensure that they arrived on time. But on Sunday, when they see kids with their Dad at the park or see ...

Untitled- Part Two

NOTE: This is an old post, from five years ago and I wanted to honor every woman and man who have felt pain from a miscarriage.  We found out today that I did in fact miscarry.  There aren’t really words to describe how I feel right now: anger, sadness, and exhaustion (both mentally and physically) are just a few of the emotions I’ve gone through these past few hours.  While I still clung on for hope that everything would be okay, I tried to prepare myself for this moment, but you can never really be prepared for the phrase, “complete miscarriage”.  This morning, after my shower, I stood for a long time just looking at myself in the fogged up mirror. I had already been in to the doctor for the lab work and was just waiting for results now. I examined my body up and down trying to figure out where we went wrong. I found nothing. I looked at my tired eyes and my long face trying to find that glimpse of hope that I had a few days ago. There was none. ...

A Letter To My Introvert From your Extrovert Mother

Son, As we reach Spring Break I am baffled by how quickly your first year of school has gone by. It seems like yesterday I was crying when I dropped you off at Pre-school and now, we're approaching our last day of Kindergarten. I promise you, it will be here before you know it. I am in awe of you as you come home with such an amazing vocabulary, a deep love of your "School Brother," and how you talk about how much you like all your classmates. I love how you refuse to do "Kiss-and-Go" and insist I walk you to the door, give you a hug, a kiss and give each other our little signal that says, "I love you". You walk into school so confidently, so proud, so excited for each day, even though you swear you want to stay home and spend the day with me (and by the way, I'm still flattered to hear that). When you go in that building, you are a different person than you are at home. You are confident, you are free from your brother, you are able to experime...