We all know I was an accidental mommy. My pregnancy with Kinder Major was flawless, and even enjoyable. It could be argued, though, that I wasn't meant to be. Moments after delivering a beautiful, angry red-haired little girl, I began to bleed uncontrollably. I was so tired. All I wanted to do was sleep off the pain I was in as I bled and bled.
But they fought me, and my mother fought me, and I stayed awake. I stayed here for my baby. I stayed here because I wanted to be, whether the universe wanted it or not.
Things with Bug were not so peaceful. A sub-chorionic hemorrhage during my first trimester. Hit by a car second trimester. Third trimester, pre-eclampsia, fetal distress, premature birth by induction.
I call him the little engine that could. In spite of all of those things, he persevered. He was the little fetus that could.
I hemorrhaged again after his birth, and again I wanted to just sleep. This time I sent my mother away, instructing her to never leave the side of my baby, my little boy blue, not breathing, not stirring.
We danced with fate, the three of us. Plenty of people who have heard our stories comment on how we, in one form or another, shouldn't be.
I believe they're wrong, though. Our existence, and the way we fought to be a family, us three, makes life all the sweeter. It makes it worthwhile to be.
