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6.9.11

All That I Can See.

*Disclaimer: Please do not read if you are pregnant. And please do not think I am crazy or need help.

9 weeks ago, at this exact moment in time, as I write this, at 11:46pm, I was still pregnant.
I was sat in the birthing pool, pushing, saying "I can't do this anymore", breathing through contractions, saying "this is so hard", hoping that with the next push my waters would go, telling the midwife that "something isn't right", knowing that when I pushed my body was stopping my baby from coming out.

At this point I didn't know I'd be leaving the pool and the midwife led unit and ending up giving birth on a bed, laying on my back. A dry-land birth as I always called it. Something I never wanted. Until now.

At this point I didn't know I had a potentially fatal condition which, if not detected, could've resulted in us coming home alone. Without our baby boy.

All that I can see:


Is a blood vessel.
No baby bump.
Just the blood vessel.

I feel sorry for myself. My gosh that sounds so stupid.
But I don't see that as being me.
I can't remember being pregnant.
The feelings left me the same time I gave birth.
I remember giving birth, well, some of giving birth.
But I can't remember getting up and seeing this bump in the mirror. Or looking down and not seeing my feet.
Feeling a kick or a hiccup. Feeling him swirl around and hearing his chug-chug-train-like heartbeat.

All I have are these photos as memories.
And all I see now is a blood vessel.
Resting near my babies head. Blocking his way out. Waiting for him to drop down.
But he can't drop down.
Waiting for him to rupture the vessel.
But he can't rupture the vessel. He just can't. If he does then............

My body saved him. Somehow. It could've ended so wrong. It was so close to ending so badly. But it didn't.
I was pushing for hours. Strong pushes. Big pushes. But something stopped him pushing on this vessel.
My body it seems was almost at war with itself.
Part was wanting to push this baby out.
Part was wanting to keep him in.
To save him.
Waiting for someone to notice this evil vessel and move it so he could come out safely.

All That I Can See:
A vulnerable girl.
A girl unaware of what her body has done.
Oblivious to the dangers and the fact that at any moment....
So fragile.
So delicate.
So frail.
So unaware.
A ticking time bomb. 
A vessel ready to rupture at any moment.
Anywhere.
Anytime.
Ready to take our boy away with it.

This is my body. MY BODY!
My body created this. My body put this vessel in the way.
Some stranger had to move it.
A stranger had to move this nasty vessel so MY son could be born.
My body put this vessel in the way.
My body put my sons life at risk.

All that I can see:


A precious little boy.
A boy who will grow into a big strong man.
A man who will never know just how cherished he is.
A man who will never know how guilty I feel.
How this pain eats me up everyday.
How my body.
His first home.
Almost failed him.
So very, very lucky.

Posted at 1:43am. Exactly 9 weeks old. 
Safe and in my arms. 
Where you belong. 
Where I promise to keep you safe.