When I read through the blog posts of April - May 2007, I can't believe that all of that happened and that I have somehow survived it, with my marriage intact.
I can't believe that I was waiting for what I thought was the worst news about A. when my Dad died without warning. I can't believe that instead of preparing for my amniocentesis I had to fly home to pay my last respects to Dad.
I can't believe that we had to make the decision to term.i.nate A's pregnancy in the midst of that. Sometimes it seems so unreal that it's like a bad soap opera.
I am glad that induced delivery was the method of ter.mi.nat.ion. I already knew delivery with a dead baby at the end. I feel that that was the gentlest thing for A and the most natural thing given the circumstances. I'm glad it wasn't surgical. I am very glad we saw him and held him and that my fear of what he might look like was not warranted. I'm glad we took lots of pictures of him, even though I don't look at them often, what's comforting is that they are there if I do want to look at them.
Now I am almost 16 weeks pregnant again. So I have a very good idea of what the bean must look like right now.
I have had some doubts about the ter.min.at.ion decision. But they haven't been shattering doubts. I think it was the best decision for A.
The decision has to be taken so quickly, the longer you delay the worse it gets. It has to be both of you in agreement or a rot would set into your marriage and eat it away slowly. I could not have looked after A. and his heart defect on my own. There are limits to one person's strength.
Without this decision, A. might not have even made it to live birthdom. He might have. I don't think open heart surgery was in his best interests. I don't think that his heart defect would have miraculously disappeared or become less severe. But then I can't know, can I? We didn't have an autopsy. Maybe gene therapy techniques in 10 years may have made major breakthroughs and he could have had a chance at an independent life? Maybe he could have survived open heart surgery very well?
At a wedding I attended in the UK in October, I met the parents of a girl I used to be friends with when I was at school. I lost touch with her years ago. She met someone, fell in love with him, then he was diagnosed with cancer. They got married anyway and then he died. She's two years younger than me. She didn't have a chance to have any children with him. She's just gone back to work after one year off.
She has a brother with Down's Syndrome. We used to play with him when I was at my friend's house. He's in very good physical shape, unusually so for T21. His mother told me that he even works out. He's about 30 now. He can be left alone in the house for a few hours at a time. He doesn't have any other physical defects like a heart defect or intestinal problems. He can't be left overnight on his own though.
His mother has just had a major back operation. She had put it off as her son-in-law was dying as she felt her family couldn't face an additional burden at that time. She was in pain at the wedding. Physical and emotional pain - you could see it etched on her face even though she's 60 and looks like she's ten years younger - according to her glossy black hair and lack of wrinkles. (It's genetic - Indian women living in Europe generally physically age very well. My mother looks very young too). But you could still see the pain and tiredness etched on her face.
What will be etched on my face when I'm 60? What will be etched on yours?
I still see my psychiatrist regularly. Now my sobbing episodes are restricted to those sessions. My recovery is still fragile and tenuous but so far is holding. Can I call myself a survivor of life now or is it too soon?
