For a long time I wanted to write a complete story of my pregnancy and childbirth, but I still couldn’t get my thoughts together. There will probably be a lot of letters. I may even be writing for myself, so as not to forget this difficult pregnancy.

Since childhood, I dreamed of a wedding, children, family. After the wedding we started planning right away. I was sure that we, young and healthy, would succeed the first time. But, the first flight. I'm at a loss. How? Why? Then it flies by again. Crap. Then I registered here... and away we go... ovulation, BBT charts, I read a million posts on this topic. After New Year. Delay 2 days. I didn't do the test on purpose. I wanted to find out about pregnancy in the new year. He, the monsters have come. It was a terrible New Year. I was depressed. I made a wish to become a mother in 2014.

This continued for another couple of months of crazy planning. Then I slowly started giving up on everything. We talked to my husband. We decided that whatever happens will be so. Maybe we're not meant to be parents. And then April came. I was on vacation. Once I was lying with my husband and I told him, “Call the baby in your tummy, maybe he will come.” My husband called)) Coming back from vacation in May, I kept waiting for my period, but it still didn’t come. I decided to take a test, although I was sure that there was no pregnancy. I did it, and a very faint second line appeared there. I showed it to my husband. He said that he didn’t see the second one. Then a couple of days later he redid it, there were already clear stripes there.

Then, on the 10th day of the delay, I ran to the doctor, she confirmed the pregnancy and sent me for an ultrasound to check if it was uterine. I came for an ultrasound. The uzistka confirmed that the pregnancy was 5 weeks (although according to my calculations it was 6, I knew exactly when I became pregnant, it was at Easter). Then her face distorted slightly, and she said, “Do you know that your uterus is not the right one?” Of course, I didn’t know how no one had mentioned this before. In general, my uterus is somewhere between saddle-shaped and bicornuate.

I went to the doctor with the results of the ultrasound, she groaned that I needed control, I was in danger of not getting pregnant. And she just said, go to the maternity hospital. How worried I was then. A long-awaited pregnancy and here it is.

Then, at 6 weeks, just terrible toxicosis began, I just had a loss of strength, I went to work like a zombie, my colleagues asked what was wrong with me. I said I was pregnant.

Then I started to smear. Like on the first day of your period. I went to the maternity hospital. It was 10 pm. The end of May. There the doctor on duty looked at me in a chair, then we went to the ultrasound room, she stuck a vaginal sensor, moved it, moved it and said, “I don’t see a heartbeat.” Then something broke inside me. I thought, that's it. But then she says, “Here, I found it, everything is fine, there is no detachment, well, you’ll lie down with us and we’ll give you a hemostatic.” So for the first time in my entire life I ended up in the hospital. I stayed there for a week and was discharged.

Then I registered at 9 weeks. Screening was scheduled for June 30. I went with my husband. We looked at the baby and received a lot of positive emotions. We took a photo))

I kept walking and admiring. Even then I loved my little belly very much.

Then there was unbearable heat. It was difficult to walk while pregnant. Then August 25th. 2nd scheduled ultrasound. Let's go again with my husband. We looked at all the organs, everything is fine. Only the ultrasound was behind my period by a week and a half. I didn't give it any importance. And they said that my head is very low, which is why it’s so difficult for me to walk. There we first learned that we were having a girl. We were simply in 7th heaven with happiness. We wanted a girl so bad.

Then take the results to an appointment with a gynecologist. Strong tone. To save. Damn, there we go again. I stayed there for almost 2 weeks. As a result, I was discharged with good tone. They said upon discharge that everything was fine.

It was September, in September things just went crazy at our work. School season. On your feet all day and not a minute of rest. My bosses turned a blind eye to the fact that I was pregnant. Nobody treated me like a pregnant woman. The manager raised her voice at me. Although no, she didn’t raise her, but stupidly yelled. I tried not to pay attention. They didn’t know and simply didn’t remember how this pregnancy was going for me. I am inclined to believe that this is why my blood pressure began to rise.

But I didn’t want to quarrel with anyone and quietly and peacefully waited for the maternity leave. Before maternity leave, I went to the doctor and she prescribed an ultrasound for me. The doctor also closed her eyes that it was already 28 weeks and my belly was very small, and I was happy about it.

So. I came for an ultrasound at 28 weeks, glad that maternity leave was coming soon. There is the same ultrasound specialist who did my very first ultrasound. It just so happens that she is the one telling me the bad news. So she asks me “How many weeks, 25?” I say, no, 28. She looks at me and says, “No, it’s not 28, it’s 25.” I looked at her like she was sick, I know better what my term is. There they confirmed to me once again that we are having a girl. Then she ran for my card. They started checking all my ultrasounds. And they decided that it was no big deal. Well, it lags a little, so what? And they didn’t even send me to a doctor. And the next appearance was scheduled in 2 weeks.

I went to work after the ultrasound and told them that the time limit was shorter. My boss said, “So when are you going on maternity leave now?” In the evening, I decided to go to a consultation and find out exactly when, according to the ultrasound, the due date is 25 weeks.

I came to the doctor at the end of the working day, without an appointment or coupon. She accepted me, was a little worried and gave me a referral to the maternity hospital.

I, already taught by the bitter experience of being in the maternity hospital, collected all the necessary things in the evening and went to bed. I slept in the morning and went to the maternity hospital at 10 o’clock. There I waited for a long time until they accepted me and processed me.

For some reason, I was even glad that I ended up in the maternity hospital, and not in my shitty job. At the appointment, they gave me a jar to donate urine, and along the way it was taken to the laboratory. We just got up, checked me into a room, and then they called and said that I had protein in my urine. I retook it. Protein again. They sent me for an ultrasound. Blood flow is disrupted. (I still wonder why yesterday the blood flows were good, but today they are already bad). They sent me for a CTG. While I was lying there, they gave me some injections, then IVs. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that I started vomiting only from the 17th week until the end. For some reason, my gynecologist didn’t pay attention to this either. So. The IVs made me feel sick again and vomited. I went for an ultrasound again. Droppers and injections did not help. The child has intrauterine growth retardation due to the fact that nothing is supplied.

They put me in intensive care. This day passed in a blur for me. I came to the intensive care unit, I don’t understand anything, I thought, why am I being admitted here? Further more. This big guy came and started pushing a catheter under my collarbone. It’s very painful, but he didn’t succeed either the first or the second time. He stabbed me all over, I lay there, gritting my teeth. I tried to stay strong. I tried to joke that I was in no hurry and could install this catheter as long as I wanted. There was a lot of blood, but he finally installed it. Then the nurse shoved a boat into my bladder. And then my nerves gave way. I became hysterical. It was such a strange feeling. Panic, fear. I don’t even know how to describe it, when you’re lying alone, covered in wires (a catheter in the collarbone, in the urinary catheter, pressure and pulse sensors) and you realize that you’re like in prison here, they’re doing whatever they want, and you’re helpless to do anything. can not. The next morning, my attending doctor came and said that we would go for an ultrasound to the 1st floor from the 4th floor on a gurney. How about on a gurney?? I can do it myself. But no. Go. They look at the ultrasound blood flow. No improvements. They treated me again all day. Round-the-clock injections, droppers, pills. The next day. Again no improvement. Then another day, everything is the same. My diagnosis was Gestosis. By itself, it is not so scary; its combination with poor blood flow is scary. I remember lying on the ultrasound, my legs were shaking madly, every time I waited for them to tell me that there was improvement, but alas.

And then Friday came. October 24, 2014. In the morning I was told not to eat or drink anything. And they told me to get ready for an ultrasound. I sincerely didn’t understand why I couldn’t eat or drink, I thought maybe it was necessary for an ultrasound. We looked and there was deterioration. They brought me back. The doctor comes and starts talking to me. He says they did everything they could. Unfortunately, this pregnancy and this child cannot be saved. I was simply killed mentally. Such a long-awaited pregnancy, such a beloved child. Our daughter. It can't end like this. Everything will definitely be fine. I signed the papers for a caesarean section. I remember how they took me to the operating room. I remember the lamps. How she got onto the operating table. It was 12 noon, the weather was very good, sunny. It seemed to me that it was just some horrible dream that all this is not happening to me. I remember lying there, waiting for the anesthesiologist, and feeling my daughter’s fear, she had crawled somewhere under my rib. I hid. Then the anesthesiologist came and injected spinal anesthesia. I’m lying there, the operation has begun. I didn't feel time. I just lay there and thought about something. Then the anesthesiologist offered to give me general anesthesia while they were delivering the child. Without thinking at all, I agreed. Which I still regret to this day. I didn’t see how they took out my doll. I don’t know if she squeaked.

And so, on October 24, 2014, at 12.44 p.m., my little girl, weighing 760 grams and 30 cm tall, was born.

When I woke up, I immediately started asking questions about her. Only the anesthesiologist answered them: “We got your girl, little one.”

Then they brought me back to the intensive care unit. Everything was in a fog, I only remember that it was incredibly painful. And I remember, I was lying there, the anesthesia was wearing off, and I was deliriously thinking, “That’s it, no more pregnancies, I won’t survive this pain anymore.” On the 2nd day I was already getting up and walking around the ward. But it was incredibly painful. You feel like a helpless invalid. You can't do anything without help.

Then, when my mind cleared, I asked my doctor what was wrong with my child. He replied that they would come to me from the pediatric intensive care unit and tell me everything, he knew nothing. He never came to me, of course. I asked everyone what was wrong with my child. But everyone answered that they didn’t know. Well, for a week they still didn’t come to me from intensive care and didn’t say a word.

I myself, all rumpled, looking like a homeless person, fell into the children's intensive care unit with tears in my eyes. I was thrown out of there. But there I saw a incubator, it was covered with a blanket, and it was not visible who was in it, but I was sure that she was lying in it (as it turned out later, I was not mistaken).

Then I was transferred to postpartum, on the 5th day. And there everyone is with small children... But they put me with a girl who also has a premature baby, but she is almost 2 kg. She went to intensive care. I didn’t understand why she could, but I couldn’t?

I also started running around the floor and pumping up my license, why is it possible for her, but not for me? The nurses called the intensive care unit and they told me not to let me in. Then, purely by chance, the head postpartum doctor came across me, and I asked her why. She took me aside and said, “Well, you’re young, you’re still going to give birth, you can forget about this child, there’s practically no chance, 90 percent, that nothing will work out.”

I didn't believe it. But 10 percent calmed down a little, that’s so much...

Then a miracle happened, this doctor came to me and said that I could go up to the intensive care unit and take a look. It was 7 days. I could barely wait two hours. She quickly ran to the intensive care unit. I went there, they looked at me like I was an enemy of the people. They were going to expel me again, I told him that the doctor gave me permission. They called the doctor and said “the little one’s mother has come.” These words warmed my soul so much, mother of a little one, I AM THE MOTHER OF A LITTLE ONE. The doctor gave the go-ahead and they took me to that very incubator. I saw my girl for the first time. Yes, she was very small, thin, but this is my daughter. Why didn't they show it to me? This question remains unanswered. The nurse asked me what her name was, I answered Alice.

Then all the mothers from the intensive care unit go to talk with the doctor. Well, I also ran ahead of everyone. I was interested to know everything about her. But the doctor only told me dryly: “80% of such cases end in death.” Damn, again they are with their %, there are already 20 of them. Every time, after talking with the doctor, I cried. Not from what she said, but from her attitude towards me and the child. Once the doctor on duty told me, “Well, what do you want, this is a very premature baby.”

Then on the 10th day I come to the intensive care unit, look, and my Alice is lying on her tummy, butt up))) and there are no breathing tubes in her mouth. I was shocked and asked the nurse, “How is she breathing?” she replied, “That’s it, all by herself.”

Then, during my rounds, this head doctor came to see me again, who gave me 10%, when I told her that Alice was breathing on her own, her eyes widened, and she ran to the intensive care unit to check if I was lying.

And then we began to wait for the transfer to the children's hospital. On the 18th day, my daughter was transferred, and I was sent home.

I was home alone for 2 months, constant fear that something will happen to her. During this time, Alisa visited Minsk,

When she returned she weighed 2 kg. Then she and I spent 3 weeks in the premature ward at the children's hospital.

Now my baby and I are at home, everything is fine, we take a lot of vitamins and are growing.

This is how the story turned out.

I’ll probably start from the very beginning.... My pregnancy became a shock for everyone, including me... I was 17 years old, and then I couldn’t even imagine myself as a mother... But all this passed and began preparation for the arrival of the baby; choosing a stroller, buying the most necessary things, and renovating the children's room... Already at the first ultrasound at 16 weeks I already found out that I was having a boy, and I became twice as happy as I had been doing all my life. I only dreamed of a son... I gladly went to consultations and attended courses for mothers... at 24 weeks I unfortunately ended up in the hospital, the diagnosis was chronic pyleoniphritis, I stayed there for ten days and passed full course treatment... Well, after that my hard days began, severe toxicosis, bad kidneys, and heartburn.... The summer then turned out to be very hot and I almost didn’t go outside (only when necessary) during the day... it so happened that at 40 weeks I ended up in the hospital again, only now these were contractions (as it later turned out) false, again I lay there for 7 days... then they sent me home with the words “We won’t touch you, in 3-4 days you’ll give birth on your own.” That’s what I did.. .2 days passed (14th) - silence, 3 days passed (15th) - silence, 4 days passed (16th) - silence.... on the morning of the 17th I got up because my stomach and back ached.. (5 am) I went to the shower, the pain didn’t go away, but it didn’t get stronger either... I decided to wake up my husband... I said that most likely these were no longer false contractions, but the very real ones, to which he replied that he I got enough sleep and that he doesn’t want me to give birth today, better tomorrow, or even better the day after tomorrow... I went into another room to watch TV. I decided to see how often I hurt... it turned out that every 5-6 minutes. It was already 8 In the morning, I still woke up my husband and began to pack my bags, at that time he was emptying the refrigerator.... At 9 am I was in the maternity hospital, filled out the documents and we went upstairs... (to the delivery room) There they examined me that I was supposed to give birth where - by 7 o’clock (I was in shock), there were 2 fingers dilated. The doctors left and my husband and I were left alone for two hours, then the doctor came, there were 6 fingers dilated (the contractions were very impressive) I spent all my free time in the shower. ...two hours later (i.e. at 13-00) the doctor came again, the dilatation was complete, and they punctured my bladder... They told me to get up so that the pushing could begin quickly, and as soon as I got up, I really wanted to go to the toilet, I said about this midwife, she didn’t even think that everything would happen so quickly... they put me on the bed, dismantled it (making a chair out of it) and told me to push... Now I don’t even remember how many pushes I gave birth to, well, I know exactly what this meant it took about 15-20 minutes... And it was all over, they put my son on my stomach. He was so small, all wrinkled... He was born with a weight of 3790 and a height of 55 cm... I put him to my chest ...After two hours we were transferred to the postpartum ward, there I lay alone (the ward is generally a double room), the next day they put a girl in my room, and then they transferred me somewhere again, and again I lay alone.... Before I was discharged, the doctor I asked if I would come to them for the second one, I said that I would definitely come back for the girl:))) In general, my birth was easy (I hope the second one will be the same) Not a single break, and in just 4 hours.... Rating 9\9 .....Now my son is already quite big, but I remember everything as if it were yesterday!!!

My loved one (first my boyfriend, then my husband) and I have been together for 3 years. We immediately decided that our family would be incomplete without a baby, so pregnancy was not a surprise or an unwelcome event. Desired, how desired! The doctor at the antenatal clinic, where I immediately flew to after seeing the coveted two lines on the test, assured me that the period was still short, no complications seemed to be expected, and with my hip size I would easily give birth. Satisfied, I returned home to please my husband.

At 7-8 weeks I began to develop terrible toxicosis: what was most upsetting was the fact that the New Year was approaching with sweets, tangerines, delicious salads, and I couldn’t even look at all these goodies, let alone try them. A separate conversation about the Christmas tree - the smell of pine needles evoked the only desire - to retire to the bathroom and not leave there. As a result, my husband looked at my unhappy appearance, with a heavy sigh, he lifted the tree onto his shoulder, dragged it to the car and took it to my parents, who were only happy about this “New Year’s bonus.”

How I suffered! I adore tangerines, and citrus fruits in general, but in the end I had to admire this pile from afar and quietly envy my husband and friends, who completely shamelessly and with a contented look devoured all this splendor. There was one consolation - that this was our first New Year together, the three of us, even though the baby had not yet been born.

For the next two months I felt sleepy, and for some reason I didn’t fall asleep. hibernation bear I didn’t want to go to work, in the morning I literally tried to persuade myself to finally open my eyes and go to the shower.

And toxicosis too! We must give my husband his due: with stoic patience, he first brought me a basin, then read somewhere that in the morning I needed to be given tea and crackers - and organized an impromptu “breakfast in bed” for me. Ultrasounds, tests, visits to the antenatal clinic became a normal part of my life, gradually the nausea and other unpleasant sensations went away, but after a couple of weeks, when I woke up in the morning, I felt pain in my stomach. Having woken up my husband with terrible screams, I got dressed and we went to the doctor.

Seeing my frightened face, the gynecologist almost swallowed her coffee mug. The result is not very comforting: placental abruption has begun, which means I need to go for preservation. But I just started enjoying life without toxicosis. Now life has begun with injections, IVs, pills. I lay there for days and felt like some kind of log, but saving the baby’s life was much more important. Thanks to my roommates, who somehow distracted me from sad thoughts: our gatherings, intimate conversations and playing cards (although the head doctor scolded us terribly) at least somehow helped to unwind.

A month and a half later, I was discharged, but first there was another ultrasound: I went with the hope that my baby, who had been kicking regularly for a couple of months, would not refuse to cooperate. Boy! I always really wanted a son and now I was ready to do anything just to see him sooner: swallow pills, eat vitamins, terribly disgusting cereals, steamed meat and vegetables, although I always loved fried food, although very junk food. I walked home arm-in-arm with my husband and thought: when I was admitted to the hospital, winter was ending, and now the grass is turning green, the trees are blooming - a new era in life.

The doctors recommended walking more: yeah, of course. Not being able to move freely for those month and a half, I felt terribly weak and clumsy. A voracious appetite, legs that begin to swell, and back pain are an unpleasant addition to pregnancy. Moreover, my closest friend also became pregnant and was just fluttering around: no toxicosis, no special changes in the rhythm of life. How I envied her! In a good way, of course.

The closer the due date approached, the more diligently I listened to my body. I woke up at night, checking to see if my water had broken. The gynecologist, to whom I now increasingly came for appointments, joked that I would not confuse childbirth with anything else, but I still doubted it. At 36 weeks, the so-called Braxton-Higgs contractions began, I alarmed everyone I could, called a taxi and went to the maternity hospital. The doctor who examined me said that I could live in peace for at least another month, laughed at my upset face and let me go. The weeks dragged on in agonizing anticipation, but when one morning real contractions began, I realized that the doctors were right - they are really difficult to confuse with something.

They took me to the maternity hospital in an ambulance and sent me to the prenatal ward. Where was my doctor at those moments, promising that I would give birth very easily and quickly? - Well, not with my happiness. 15 hours of contractions, for the last couple of hours I was almost begging the midwife to give me anesthesia. All the lessons learned in prenatal courses gradually flew out of my head; I had enough strength to remember that now I couldn’t sit down so as not to harm the baby.

And finally, push! I, angry and extremely tired, was sent to the delivery room. The last stage didn’t seem so scary: I wanted to get over it and sleep for at least three days. And finally, they gave me the opportunity to hold the baby: a warm lump that in an instant became the closest thing to me. Subsequent procedures like repairing the tears seemed unimportant, I even tried to take a nap, although the anesthesiologist did not allow it.

After I returned from the maternity hospital, our life did not change dramatically: it just acquired a new meaning, a new facet. Our baby is already quite big: he confidently runs around the house and is learning to read. Very soon, in 4 months, he will have a brother, but that's a completely different story...

Girls, I’m writing this post for those whose pregnancy is as difficult as mine was... Maybe to some my story will seem very long and tedious... Or maybe it will help someone a lot, I hope so. I found out about my pregnancy on the second day after our wedding. My husband and I were crazy with happiness. But, unfortunately, the happiness did not last so long. The first time I encountered a threat was at 7 weeks. In the evening at work, I noticed blood on my underwear. When I arrived home, I called an ambulance and they took me to the hospital... At the examination, the doctor said that there was still a chance for a positive outcome of my pregnancy, but it would be known exactly what was going on only after I had an ultrasound, and this would only be in 2 days. (I ended up in the hospital on Friday evening).Probably no one will understand what happened to me during these 2 LONG agonizing days and how worried I was about my baby. Finally, it’s Monday - we’re going with the girls for an ultrasound. I didn’t dare go first and really regretted it. Before my eyes, the girls We left through one with a disappointing diagnosis - frozen pregnancy. Finally, it’s my turn, I go in with tears in my eyes, I ask the ultrasound specialist to tell me at least something... The cherished words - there is a heartbeat! But, unfortunately, there is also a hematoma which gave bleeding and, perhaps, can interfere with the development of my baby... Go, save your doll - I heard it for the last time. I spent 2 weeks in the hospital, swallowing pills, keeping bed rest and trying to think about good things... Final examination - everything is fine, I am being discharged home! At home I take great care of myself... but... at 13 weeks I end up in the hospital again... bleeding again... again a hematoma and a threat to my baby. A night on an IV in tears... But my baby turned out to be stronger. I won’t tell all the details, my story is already too much long. The next time I’m in the hospital is at 17 weeks. The ultrasound shows another hematoma, but my baby is alive and sucking his thumb funny in the photo (the ultrasound technician saw how worried I was and gave me a photo of my baby as a consolation prize) At 20 weeks there was a scheduled ultrasound. .., what a blessing, our hematoma is no longer there! There is no longer a threat to my baby! On the same day, my husband and I found out that we were having a boy. Then there was the strongest tone at 24 weeks, again IVs, pills, hospitals... Then at 30 weeks, at 34 weeks. In general, the entire pregnancy My baby and I struggled with tone and hematomas... And we finally overcame them! Partner birth at 41 weeks - boy, height 54 cm, weight - 3950.

Girls, how much I went through during my pregnancy is known only to God and the people close to me who supported me. Many thanks to my husband - he was always with me, we went through everything together! And the most important moment - we also saw the birth of our son together. Please, believe in the best until the last moment, everything will be fine! If anyone has any questions, write, I will be happy to help in any way I can!

More than anything else, I'm afraid of sympathy, although I'm more afraid of questions. But there is something to sympathize with and ask about.
A little over a month ago, I lost my child. Ironically, exactly 6 months from conception. You have no idea HOW THIS IS.
Previously, even before pregnancy, I was plagued by one question: “Why don’t you have children, have you been married for 4 years?” - can you imagine HOW it’s like to answer this question 2-3 times every day, without exaggeration, for me work with people. How to explain to a person that he is meddling in none of his business, that this is purely personal. But every question is like a knife in a wound. We have been trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant for 4 years. But I don't tell anyone about this. Because the one who asks this question will never understand.
But he believes that he knows better than my husband and me WHEN we need to get pregnant (here he will give a lecture that this is impossible, you have the most best age for pregnancy and so on, from the height of her experience), that at that age she had already given birth to 2 children, along the way she will tell where and how she gave birth, and add, make sure she gives birth this year! And so does everyone. IN Lately I couldn't stand it anymore. Either she left silently, let them think she was strange, or she said “my personal business” and left. Therefore, people, never ask the question why there are no children, YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS BEHIND IT!
Then I got pregnant. Everything is the same, only instead of questions, advice, sometimes so stupid that you want to send it. A person who gave birth 20-30 years ago has no idea that medicine has moved far forward, and his advice is no longer coded. But, no, he is smarter than me, who fulfills all the doctor’s requirements, does not make unnecessary movements, because, more than anything else, I am AFRAID OF LOSSING what I already got at too high a price, what I have been waiting for for many years. Placental abruption is bad, but not a big deal, it is treated comprehensively, and not with “vitamin A”, they are kept for storage when you might have a miscarriage, and not because they need to put someone to bed, and so on. Therefore, people, NEVER ADVICE ANYTHING TO PREGNANT WOMEN unless they ask.
And then I lost the child. And here is the worst part. They called me 100 times a day with questions: “didn’t you feel that he froze”, “How could you let this happen”, “Why didn’t the doctors do anything” and clear reasons why this happened, although professional doctors no reasons were identified. “This is because you were treated in hospitals”, “This is because you had an ultrasound scan 5 times”, “This is because you salted your food with Mivina seasoning”, “This is because you did not have to take anything prescribed by the doctor , all their drugs are poison” and so on. Anyone who said that will never understand that I was in confinement 4 times because I started bleeding, because I couldn’t eat anything from toxicosis, because I constantly lost consciousness, and because due to everything This meant I couldn’t go to work. And they did an ultrasound because they didn’t know whether the child was still alive when I was admitted with bleeding, whether he felt normal when there was little food, and so on. To help me and the child, and not out of idle curiosity. So people, KEEP YOUR OPINIONS TO YOURSELF! You, who have never lost a child, will not understand what it is and why it happened, and even if you did, you had ONE reason, but I had ANOTHER one, because there are THOUSANDS of them!
And now, more than anything else, I am afraid of sympathy, because it is always followed by the question, “How is this possible?” And again, all over again - questions, advice, recommendations, reasons, examples from life, and so on.
But I want to just be LEAVED ALONE. So that no one, either by word or gesture, would remember that I was pregnant. Because I don’t want to live, but I live for the sake of my husband, every minute I MYSELF search and go through the reasons why this happened, because I LOVE, REMEMBER, and MOURN for the one I was waiting for. Because there may be other children, but the one daughter I carried will no longer be there! But it was to her that I told her what kind of nursery she would have, I read poems to her, and SHE remembers my voice, and my hands that stroked her belly. Every day I ask God that My Sunshine, My Angel will forgive me for not being able to bear her, and I will always love and remember her...
PEOPLE, NEVER TOUCH PREGNANT WOMEN!!!