2020
My first pregnancy was overseas. I wasn’t able to have a ultrasound completed until I was 10 weeks pregnant, or until the risk for miscarriage had lowered because that’s military healthcare policy.
I didn’t receive my first “high risk appointment ” until I was 16 weeks pregnant. I quit my job because of the amount of pain and stress I felt in my body at that time. I complained of pain every week, and truly lived at the hospital, but was always presented with “that’s what comes with new twin pregnancies.”
At 18 weeks pregnant, I found out the sex of our children. At 23 weeks pregnant I went in the hospital because of extreme back pain, was almost discharged, until finally someone took me serious enough to check my cervix.
I had dilated, and was rushed in for emergency c-section. Contractions calmed some, and I was told we needed to keep the babies in for a few more days to call them “viable” at birth. Had our children been born a few days sooner resuscitation would not have been an option.
Nobody can tell me why I dilated or developed infection, but the death certificates would have responses that I wouldn’t understand besides “ Grade IV brain bleeding” and “extreme prematurity at birth.”
We cremated our our children.
Comments Made:
“Miscarriages can be hard.” “God doesn’t do wrong.” “They were not meant for Earth.” “Don’t lose faith.” “These things just happen.”
2021
I can remember being terrified bringing home our preemie son because I would now be his full-time 24/7 caretaker. You may say well you signed up for it, and I did but for 10 days I had no rights to even see or hold my son because of a Covid policy in the hospital, and I carried him for 8 months.
My husband saw him everyday.
I take my baby to the doctor for any sickness, cough, or mild grade fever not because of my fear of losing another child, but because I love my child unconditionally, and often I get hit with ”new mom syndrome” or “postpartum depression questions.”
I’d cry and work my body overtime to produce more than enough milk for our son, and everytime we went to appointments the doctor would forget that he wasn’t formula fed, but would offer it to me anyways. In fact, I had one day of training a preemie to latch, and then I was sent home with a nipple shield.
Everybody is “so excited” that the baby is here and maybe few actually keep in touch, and offer to assist with responsibilities that come with a child.
I take the time to take care of my body, and get shamed for not having the time, but “making” the time to do it.
I’m married, and the most dependable support we have most days is each other.
Comments Made:
“It’s motherhood.” “Just wait until.” “It’ll get better.” “You’ll never be the same.” “Try Formula.”
2022
I pay a co-pay for each visit to the doctor’s office, and that’s frequent because our son goes to daycare now. #ifykyk You’ll say “He’s military” and I’ll say “well being seen on base can take months, and to be honest I feel SAFER off base for obvious reasons.”
I use sick or annual leave to take care of our son when he’s sick. Need I remind you that this is a luxury because many do not have that option so their kids go to daycare sick.
I still find myself explaining to others my parenting decisions because they are offended that I do things differently. When he’s not with me, he’s with a “trusted” caretaker.
Comments Made:
“She’s never with her child.” “She doesn’t trust anyone with her baby.” “She works too much.” She doesn’t work enough.” She’s too small.” “
She is selfish.” “She needs to have another kid.”
And You Say You’re Pro-life. We are the LIVING.
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