I know how shallow this seems, but on one episode of Grey's Anatomy, which is my favorite show ever...Dr. Grey didn't tell her patient who was giving birth that the baby was not breathing. When another Doctor questioned her later about it she said, "The hope of seeing your beautiful baby at the end of such a long and hard labor and birth is what keeps a women going, keeps her pushing despite the pain. Why would I destroy her by telling her there is nothing at the end of all that?"
I thought about this as I was going through my own labor. It is so true. I kept focused on seeing my baby boy's face at the end and that's what got me through the hardest moments. Well, and solitaire that I played for the first 7 hours of labor while sitting in my living room.
But, back to my friend. I went to go visit her at home and she told me that she had an infection in her placenta that threatened her life and they needed to induce her labor and get the baby out immediately. However, at 5.5 months pregnant, the baby was most likely not going to live. With tears in our eyes and hands holding tight, she tells me that her baby was born alive but her little lungs didn't last long.
She called her Marta, her son had picked out the name.
The next morning she wanted to see her little one, had to take one look at her. This was her 6th miscarriage. This dreadful let down and heart shattering sadness was something she knew all too well. She wanted to see her little baby, who she had interacted with and felt her little kicks the past few months. She wanted to see the little baby who wasn't given the chance to be in this world more than a few minutes. Marta would never know what grass feels like between her toes, she wouldn't ever learn to spell her name, or smile at her mother's beautiful face.
My friend is so strong. She left the hospital and knew that she never wanted to try again for another child. She felt blessed to have a healthy boy already
and couldn't bare the thought of having this happen again.
When I went home and saw my son, I realized how fortunate I am. I have a healthy son. All of a sudden I was thankful for all those moments I might have resented at times. I was thankful I had to wake up at 6:30 am every morning to feed him or having to walk him around the house screaming to get him to sleep at 11:00 pm. And those moments I already loved, like falling asleep next to him with my hair clenched tightly in his little fist, made my heart ache with the overwhelming love I have for him.
"The wound is where the light enters you."- Rumi