Warning – this post is comprised of raw emotion. It’s harsh and it’s blunt. I decided to share this as it is a true reflection of some of the emotions I have had in the last few weeks, and I did not want to hide some of my hardest thoughts just because they aren’t pretty. Please know that I am okay, I am still searching for happiness each and every day, and there is no need to worry.

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We’ve had 5 pregnancies, each one ending in the death of our baby.

I have done everything, every single thing that an expectant mother should do. For over 2 years, I lived in the healthy pregnancy bubble. I did every single thing correctly. I did every single thing that was recommended to us by our family doctor, our reproductive endocrinologist, and our psychologist. Even though I was slow to do some of the recommended thing (i.e. resign from a high stress job), I still did eventually. You name it, we did it if it could help us create a healthy, living baby.

I did all of this, because I loved our children more than anything I the world. I loved every single thing about our children before they were even conceived, I loved every single thing about our little ones as they tried to grow, I loved every single thing that there futures entailed. I was simply full of love for each one of them, and for each one of their futures.

My job as their mother was rather simple, and I was determined to give them the best possible start at life. I would have done anything for each one of my babies.

And, as it turns out while my heart and my mind were in the right place, my body was doing everything it could to kill our babies starting the before they were even conceived.

I always thought having the heart of a mother was all that mattered when it came to having children. It turns out, I was sadly mistaken. It turns out you also need to have a body that wants to create and sustain life, and more specifically a uterus that isn’t determined to take life away.

Everything changed for me the day I found out that my body is killing our babies.  I had a strong realization that my uterus is where babies go to die.  On some level we had begun to suspect this, but to actually hear the diagnoses and to learn the trust was soul crushing in many ways.  It still feels like a foreign concept because this just isn’t how life is supposed to work.

With very expensive medical intervention (upwards of $100,000) we can try to trick my body into cooperating and sustaining life rather than taking it away. The key word here is try. All the treatments in the world will not guarantee a different outcome, they will only likely increase our chances of a successful outcome.  For us, there are no guarantees that our baby will live long enough to take its first breath.

Now that we know, honestly, how can I even imagine trying again? When all I want is to, all I have ever tried to do in my entire life, is to help others. I have lived my life by the guiding principles of do unto others as you would have them do unto you; there is good in everyone; love thy neighbour and help others in need. And yet, when tasked with the most important thing imaginable, carrying and caring for our unborn children, my body was busy destroying them and removing all hope that they could ever survive.

So, how in the world, even with medical intervention, could I ever try again, knowing that the odds will be against our baby? Knowing that no matter what I do, my body will be working to kill our baby. Knowing that from the very beginning, their chances of survival are slim. Knowing, that if I am tasked to carry them, they will die. Knowing that their entire life will be a life of struggle just to live another day.

How can I possibly do this to an unborn child?

We know better now, after 5 lost babies, that my body is killing them, slowly but surely.

I cannot go forward with creating another life that is doomed from the start. This is so horribly cruel to do to a child – start a life knowing that its chances of survival are slim is something I know I cannot emotionally survive.

To know that our child’s only existence will be that of suffering as it struggles to live. This is simply not something I can do in good conscience. And, honestly, I don’t know that I would survive another loss knowing what we know today.

For me, it was one thing to try again when we didn’t know the reason, when we did not know for certain that my body is that of a killer. I won’t blame myself for the 5 deaths, because while it was my body, it was beyond my control and my heart and my brain wanted them alive more then anything else in the world.

But now, to try again knowing what we know, everything has changed. Now I feel like it would be negligent and cruel of us to do this to another baby.

I guess this is my new burden of knowledge.

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