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Reflecting on the last 2 years and sometimes, I still can’t believe my daughter is in my arms.
When I had my first miscarriage, it was quite traumatic. We found out at 8 weeks there was no heartbeat despite me being nauseous 24/7 still, had to have a D&C a week later and then had to have another surgery 3 months after that to remove a piece of placenta that was left behind and had embedded itself into my uterine wall. Then after having my second miscarriage and subsequently finding out about my MTHFR gene mutation, I felt as though I may never have another healthy pregnancy. This all happened when I was 32-33 so I knew time was ticking and I felt like I was running out of time. I also went through severe post partum depression and anxiety after my first miscarriage, as well as post partum OCD, which was so hard.
When I finally got pregnant for the third time in April of 2018, I was petrified. I was afraid to get excited because I didn’t know if I’d ever get to meet this baby. I was also afraid to voice my fears because then that may make them come true. It was a long 9 months of anxiety, stress, fear and nausea/all day sickness.
When we kept passing all the milestones and she was still growing and healthy, I started to gain hope. Then when I ended up with gestational diabetes and eventually choleastasis of pregnancy, which both carry a risk of stillbirth, I was in panic mode. I wanted everything about this pregnancy and delivery to be unmedicated and 100% natural, yet I ended up on insulin injections and had to have another c-section due to a failed VBAC attempt. But when my daughter was finally here and in my arms and completely healthy, none of that mattered.
I still get so emotional thinking about what we went through to get her here, and how I will always wonder who my other babies would have been, but I cannot imagine having a baby other than Aryah. The amount of healing my heart has done since welcoming her on 12/06/2018 is indescribable.