Monday, April 3, 2017

The Dream Thief.

I've lost two of my five children. Both late first trimester, one in a clinical setting and the other at home, both requiring surgery. 

It cut me open in ways I didn't know human beings could be hurt. 

What got me though those was the idea that I could try again. When and if I wanted to, that door was not locked. In the case of our youngest, even being on hormones could not stop my body from wanting to carry another baby: and thank goodness my body was smarter than I was. In so many ways, though I hope to never put the pressure on her of telling her, a new baby helped us stitch life back together. 

Pulmonary Hypertension comes with severe changes. One of which is that in almost all cases, even if you are in the mild category and things like sleep apnea therapy help, pregnancy is very dangerous. 

It was present the last time I carried a child: and she and I spent most of that time in real, painful trouble. 

We're hoping we see real improvements with treatment now, but even if we do...

A mortality rate of 30-50% with PH doesn't feel good enough...To risk leaving your family over a coin toss for your life? 

Women who've had children and survived with PH seem to do a little better, but for the most part, this closes that door we've always had. It puts a heavy lock on it. Of all the changes this brought, I resent this the most. 

I hate having parts of my life taken from me. I hate it. 

And that's the reality for so many people who struggle with things like infertility or who even got their diagnosis of severe PH before starting their family. It's a different, harder level of hell in those regards. 

But I still hate it. 

Everyone has dreams. Those things that you can conjure up logical reasons not to want, but you never stop thinking about them. I didn't want a quiet house. I didn't want a fancy car or a vacation. I wanted a home full of life and noise and that never had time to be fully cleaned. I wanted to be busy. I wanted a big family. I wanted that life.

I kind of got it. I'm so grateful for that. 

I still hate having lost my two babies that didn't make it. I still hate having that door closed on me because of an illness. I didn't get a choice, or a say, it wasn't a decision.

It was theft. 

A set of dreams stolen and barricaded away where they can no longer be reached. 

Of all the things this sickness has taken, I hate this the most.

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