But if anyone else has to go through the surgery, feel free to get in touch. It’s a tough thing, so don’t feel like you have to go it alone. I’d love to support and answer questions. Helps me heal too.
I am amazed by the strength in your post. Your kindness and willingness to share your experience with other who may go through it is a real gift. I am so sorry for your loss and pray for a speedy recovery both physically and mentally for you.
I'm so sorry for your loss. I've posted this before but I'll share again.
I wrote this for a coworker. I thought I would share for those who are tending their own gardens.
For you, my little seedling. My springtime flower so anticipated. I held you long within myself, Whispering secret hopes and fears. Promising bright tomorrows and my love for ever more. Your little movements kept me warm, Visions of your face kept me hopeful in times that felt dark as ink. As grass grew green and blossoms burst to joyful life under a radiant sun, I waited for you. Patiently, I watched belly swell and felt you grow restless and ready. One lonely morning, I awoke. And though the sun shone bright and birds flew and grass waved in breezes unseen, I knew. Your little spark had burned brightly and then had flickered out. My soul felt an emptiness too deep and still to carve out into words. Futures that had seemed bright felt dimmed and uncertain. I shattered, little one- nothing but broken, jagged edges that cut more with every movement. It is said that time heals all wounds, But scars can ache like fresh wounds when memories carry razor blade edges. In dreams I still feel you, I touch your little hands and feet and you look at me with love. In those moments my heart is full. Your little flower never grew to reach for the sun, But this I promise you: I tend your garden every day. And will until we meet again.
Re: *TW I’m Out*
But if anyone else has to go through the surgery, feel free to get in touch. It’s a tough thing, so don’t feel like you have to go it alone. I’d love to support and answer questions. Helps me heal too.
DS: born oct 2012
TFAS: BFP #1 aug16. miscarriage sept16
BFP #2 nov16 MMC dec16. d&c jan17
BFP #3 sept17 EDD 5/31/18
fingers crossed for our rainbow baby
Married March 2016
DD: born 7.22.16
DS EDD: 6.23.18
When you’re ready, I know there are women on TTGP that have gone through this.
DS: 6/1/18 (Pre-E; IUGR; seizures; NICU)
TTC #2: 12/2019
Sept 2020: HSG possible blocked right tube
Nov 2020: Letrozole + TI - BFN
Dec 2020: Letrozole + TI - BFP!!! EDD 9/18
Husband: 35
Married: June 2007
Son Max born 1/10/17
BFP #2: 10/5/17; EDD: 6/11/18
Married - DH 27 y/o
BFP: 10/13/17
EDD: 6/22/18
TTC: 08/2017 EDD: 6/11/2018 FTM
Me: 30 | DH: 34 | DSS: 14 | DS: 4
PG #2, EDD 10/12/2023
I wrote this for a coworker. I thought I would share for those who are tending their own gardens.
For you, my little seedling.
My springtime flower so anticipated.
I held you long within myself,
Whispering secret hopes and fears.
Promising bright tomorrows and my love for ever more.
Your little movements kept me warm,
Visions of your face kept me hopeful in times that felt dark as ink.
As grass grew green and blossoms burst to joyful life under a radiant sun,
I waited for you.
Patiently, I watched belly swell and felt you grow restless and ready.
One lonely morning, I awoke.
And though the sun shone bright and birds flew and grass waved in breezes unseen, I knew.
Your little spark had burned brightly and then had flickered out.
My soul felt an emptiness too deep and still to carve out into words.
Futures that had seemed bright felt dimmed and uncertain.
I shattered, little one- nothing but broken, jagged edges that cut more with every movement.
It is said that time heals all wounds,
But scars can ache like fresh wounds when memories carry razor blade edges.
In dreams I still feel you, I touch your little hands and feet and you look at me with love.
In those moments my heart is full.
Your little flower never grew to reach for the sun,
But this I promise you:
I tend your garden every day.
And will until we meet again.
`Amanda Ellis 2017