Destiny

Almost one year ago, my whole life changed: I lost my son, Louie, at 30 weeks pregnant.

It was a shock. Just one week earlier, I went to the doctor, and everything was fine. Right? It’s not like we weren’t afraid because my first pregnancy wasn’t easy at all. I gave birth to my daughter at 34 weeks due to something called HELLP Syndrome, and she saved my life by starting labor. I had been in pain the whole weekend, and we didn’t know why.

Well, after this not-so-nice experience, I thought everything would be better the second time. I needed to take Aspirin, a blood thinner, which was supposed to help me. But no doctor treated me as if I had a high-risk pregnancy. I was taking the medication, so everything should have been fine.

On that Monday, I had an argument with my husband, and he took so long to come back home. I was already having some weird contractions over the weekend, but I thought they were just those “training” ones. Why I didn't call him? But the pain kept getting worse and worse, until my husband came back, and we started our conversation again. Then I fell. I was unconscious for some seconds. 

We have to go to the doctor.

My parents were staying with us to help with our daughter. I remember telling Louie, in my head, to stay where he was. To not be born yet. How badly I wish he was born now…
At the hospital, after an ultrasound, we received the news… Our son was dead. I remember how I screamed and said it couldn’t be true. It all felt so unreal, like a bad dream. After the c-section, I asked my husband if Louie was fine, if they had managed to save him. I still couldn’t believe it. Bad things always happen to other people, not to us… Right? Right?!

My placenta had detached, and I couldn’t keep my son alive anymore. I am his mother, and I couldn’t help him. My body was the one that killed him. And almost killed me as well.
I was bleeding internally, and because of the blood thinner, I lost about one liter of blood. I needed an iron infusion, a blood transfusion… It was the worst period of my life. And it’s not like I can say, “Well, that’s all folks! I don’t want to live with this pain, ciao ciao.” I needed to be strong. I need to be strong.

Sometimes it’s easier, sometimes it’s harder.

I’ve kind of gotten good at hiding my feelings. I don’t like to cry in front of people, so I often have to live with the pain stuck in my throat. But I guess this is part of the journey of grieving.