It's been just about a year since we found out that we lost our baby at 8 weeks, and before I was even able to grieve the loss, I needed to figure out how to handle dealing with my physical body. After the drugs did not work, I found I needed another surgery - the worst thing to hear as an Asherman's patient. It could be detrimental if not done properly and with much care. After a couple painful days of deliberating, we finally made the decision that I would go to the specialist in Madison again for surgery, instead of having my doctor do it here. It was inconvenient, but I needed to continue to be my own advocate, and an advocate for the dream of a baby I would have some day... and I am proud of us for that choice and many others that we have made along the way.
My mom took the train to Minneapolis, then drove with me to Madison. I bought this card at a little boutique in downtown Madison the night before my surgery. The smaller print at the bottom says "when faith in myself was so strong that I believed I could move mountains." And on the scooter it says "Spirit." Of course it's not as if having a uterine surgery was really "going out there and living," but it was the decision itself to go there, and the ongoing fight and determination not to give in. The fight for a healthy baby that was meant to be. Someday. I was not throwing in the towel by doing it the easy way (a surgery at a Minneapolis hospital 5 minutes away.) I was taking control of this one chance we have at children, with my one and only uterus.
And here I lie, with that baby that was meant to be - Dear God - and I cherish every movement. And I thought the other day - what if this is really it? What if either by choice or by hysterectomy, this is the last time that I will carry a child?
Then I will call him Baby Jesus.
Ok, so we have a couple other names on the list, but still - I am so very thankful for this baby that I have been blessed enough to carry.
"Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind."
Lionel Hampton
