Such a stunning piece of writing that moved me and brought me to tears. I am currently in hospital with my 6th baby who is just 4 weeks old. She has had so many tests, a lumbar puncture and had suspected sepsis and meningitis and viral and bacterial infections. After two weeks we still have no answers and I have googled her symptoms, convinced something will be wrong with her permanently, the not knowing being difficult to accept. I have answered so many questions, worried about doing the seeding during my c-section I needed to have, guilty that something was wrong with my milk, scared that because I had somehow caused this to happen. I can relate to trying to do all the ‘right things’ in way of my diet and exercise during pregnancy. Accepting that it is not my fault that she is in Hospital has been a challenge. Thank you for sharing your story, you are truly an amazing writer.
Yet having that donor egg grow inside me was an experience I would not trade. If at first I fretted that I’d feel the baby wasn’t mine, by the middle of my second trimester, with the first faint hiccups of life, then the powerful kicks and flailing of the baby’s arms and legs, I fell in love. I couldn’t help but marvel at my baby’s movement when my husband lovingly caressed my stomach and talked about his day or played jazz on his guitar. I wondered if the baby could hear my thoughts, because I was sure I could. ‘Yes, I know you’re thirsty, I’ll get some water,’ I’d say aloud. Or: ‘This music is too loud for you, I know.’ I patted my stomach at a Billy Joel concert, hoping to get some pop music influences in before my husband created another jazz aficionado, which would leave me the odd one out.