5th December 2011 , Posted by Yi Lin
Robbed
That was the word that came straight to mind when my eyes flew open at 4am on Thursday 1 December.
Robbed
Out of habit, I glanced over to Coco’s cot by my side. But she wasn’t there. Of course. She was staying over with the in-laws that night.
It wasn’t my baby I was thinking about.
During lunch the day before, I had received the crushing news that my friend, two months into her pregnancy, had lost her baby. One day it had a heartbeat. The next, there was none.
I was midway through lunch at Swensons with Dannie and our friends when my phone buzzed with the bad news. Stunned as I was, the white shock didn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears and my voice from breaking as my countenance cracked under the weight of the sadness. I managed to regain my composure over lunch but I was crumbling inside.
Somebody had been robbed of her baby.
Much as I wanted to, I didn’t blog about it earlier because my vocabulary failed me terribly. My thoughts were garbled. I felt disoriented. Distracted. Confused. Perplexed. Blank. Part of me wanted to hide under the covers and try to make sense of it all. Why was this happening? Why her? As if having to go through two cycles of IVF wasn’t enough of a trial already.
But I couldn’t. I was due to return to work on 1 December and there were many things to attend to. For the next few days, I flickered back and forth between my reality and hers. So distracted that I couldn’t remember for the life of me which floor I worked on. And apparently, as I found out today, I had deleted entire threads of important work emails from my Inbox without noticing. No wonder I had so few emails to attend to even after being away for more than three months.
Oooops.
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But the tigers came at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear our hope apart
And they turn your dream to shame
Somehow, these lines from Les Miserables just kept haunting me. They conveyed the very essence of the silent robber.
I felt worse than I did over my own failed IVF cycle. Back then, it was just a couple of embryos that didn’t make it. There was nothing in the first place. Nothing to be taken away from us. Nothing to lose. But this time was different. It was truly heartbreaking. We had walked every single step of this journey together. I had wanted so very much for her to walk the same path and finish the journey as I did.
1 fresh cycle. 2 embryos. 1 failure.
1 frozen cycle. 2 embryos. 1 foetus. 2 different endings.
What had she done “wrong” to deserve a different ending?
Nothing.
Her loss was my loss too.
Ending up back where you started is painful. Trying again from zero is hard. It almost eats you up from inside to out. Nevertheless, I hope that they will try again. Because while fighting for a baby is hard, fighting against the desire to have one is even harder. How do you go through every day without asking “what if?” When do you decide when to quit and stop trying? When do you stop hoping? How do you continue to embrace and celebrate Life when Life denies you of life itself?
I have no answers. For all I know, my own next IVF attempt could go down the same path.
IVF guarantees nothing. Except the creation of fragile hope.
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Another friend just discovered recently that she had symptoms of Thalassemia, albeit of a less serious form of than the full blown blood disorder. She was midway through her pregnancy. Thalassemia is hereditary.
If her husband too carried the Thalassemia gene, their baby would have a 25% chance of contacting a fatal form of the blood disorder whereby there are insufficient red blood cells to carry oxygen to the organs, leading to severe organ failure.
There was a 25% chance that the baby would die in the womb. A stillborn.
Even if born alive, the child would have to undergo numerous blood transfusions in his lifetime.
A lifetime of only 30 years.
What do you do? Damned if you have the baby. Damned if you don’t.
Thankfully, her husband tested negative for the Thalassemia trait. At the very most, the child would have a 50% chance of being a Thalassemia minor, which is pretty darn close to having a clean bill of health.
Almost robbed. Almost.
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Last Wednesday night, while nursing Coco, I shed tears for what could have been. Some of sadness for one friend. Some of worry for another. Some of gratitude for ourselves. We have been lucky. Pretty darn lucky.
I woke up on Thursday morning without my baby by my side and a intense need to hold my baby. To believe that she was real. That she wasn’t just a vision that the dream-robbers could steal from me in my sleep. Overnight.
For the next two nights, I held my baby, not wanting to put her down even when she was sound asleep.
You’re in for it, Dan’s aunt chided, She’ll forever want you to carry her.
That weekend, I was more than happy to carry her. The moment she fussed, I picked her up. Carried her. Held her. Rocked her. While my tongue grumbled at her for always wanting to be carried, my arms held her tighter than ever. My daughter wanted me - and that was all that mattered. I would gladly carry her until the cows came home (But oh wait…. I am her cow… Hmmm)
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After writing so much, I realised that I don’t really have a point to make in this entry. Maybe I just had to let the thoughts out. So I just want to end by saying this:
If you are blessed with children, hug your little miracles for just a tad longer today.
If you are blessed with child in-utero, say a prayer for him and whisper to him to hang in there and be strong.
If you have yet to see the light at the end of the tunnel, may you be blessed with clarity, and the alacrity to live life as you have chosen.
Last year, I made a wish for the New Year (2011) for myself.
And that came true.
This year, I made a wish for happy endings for one and all – whatever that may be.
May you get the Happily Ever After that you deserve. And may you never be robbed of it.
Posted on : December 5, 2011
Filed under : Uncategorized
6 Comments
Alex
December 6th, 2011 at 2:47 am
Hey Yi Lin
This blog teared me up. Incidentally, I was reading a book about parenting a special needs child and they mentioned grief – and one aspect of it is that parents like me feel “robbed” of the baby that we imagined to have, and instead were given something else… But you know, the human spirit is such that it will adjust to cope. 6 years on, I have never regretted being gifted with my special needs daughter, she has given and taught me more than anyone could. And I have adjusted positively to my life as a special parent! What I’m trying to share here with your friends is not to question why anymore and eventually we adjust our mindsets to what we are given in life and learn to enjoy it…
ceo38
December 6th, 2011 at 4:47 am
Hi Yi Lin
Not heard from me for awhile ya but I’ve been faithfully following your blogs… This entry here brought tears to my eyes… It’s really tough for us, those who must go through so many hurdles (hoping) to hold our bundle of joy in our hands one day. I really wonder why sometimes it could be that difficult for us. I feel for your friend n I hope she’ll pick herself up again soon.
I have another friend who has got this blood disorder too. She “BFP” thru IVF n recently went for blood test too… Sigh
I just started my 2nd fresh cycle and I’m (not) really looking forward. I just hopped on to the emo roller coaster ride once again…. Bless us(me)!
Rebecca Koh
December 6th, 2011 at 8:13 am
Yilin
For your dear friend: cry out loud if you need..
There’s never a satisfactory reply to our never ending why,why,why,why questions…
It took me a while to sink into this consolation/explanation by my doctor, “cos foetus was unhealthy, thus its taken away from us.”
Hang in there!!!
Linnie
December 10th, 2011 at 3:51 pm
Dear Yi Lin,
Please tell your friend for me, that one day, she will see the light again, a glimmer of hope that one day she’ll conceive again. Although it took me almost one year after my own loss to regain that very same hope, I now know that I’m ready to go through all those shots and anxiety again, just to have a happy ending, like yours. And I know I will. And I know she will too.
huiching
December 12th, 2011 at 3:10 am
You have a big heart! I love your blog
Yi Lin
December 15th, 2011 at 3:33 pm
Thank you every one for your heartfelt sharing and words of encouragement for my friend. To those who are also walking the rocky path to parenthood, may you have the strength to take you through to your happy ending.
Alex: I once read a blog entry by a mother of a baby girl born with Down’s Syndrome and what struck – and has since stuck with – me was how the mother saw in her newborn daughter’s eyes was a silent plea that said “I know I’m not the one whom you were hoping for but please, love me.” Tears me up every time I recall that line. Your daughter is blessed to have you as her mum.
huiching: THANK YOU! I wish I had a bigger heart though. I must admit that I find it hard to be sympathetic in general but like those here who have walked this path before and know how difficult it can be, I have learned to empathise with others – and that is a lesson in itself.
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