From a young age, I dreamed of being a mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I played with dolls\u2014yes, the kind that peed and pooped. I would beg my mother to buy real newborn diapers and pajamas for them. I idolized this role, envisioning it with the na\u00efvet\u00e9 of a child. I could hardly wait! I asked questions, and I understood how a little seed could settle in a mother\u2019s belly, knowing that it took both a dad and a mom. In my child\u2019s mind, I had grasped this early on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t until my teenage years, watching my older sister, that I truly understood what it meant to be pregnant\u2014to feel the baby move, to sense the life within. I witnessed the birth of my nephew at just 14 years old. But one crucial truth eluded me: becoming a mother isn\u2019t as simple as it seems.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not every little being sprouts into life. I discovered this as a young adult, still na\u00efve about the ease I had envisioned. I stopped contraception, and then came two years of trying\u2014two years of calculating ovulation, observing cycles, and scheduling intimate moments. As always, I thought I was in control. Then finally, a little being nestled in my belly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t wait to share the news and called my big sister on FaceTime! The joy of that moment\u2026 She knew before I even spoke. I planned a surprise announcement for my partner, who would discover the news through my “KEEP CALM, I\u2019M PREGNANT” t-shirt. (I was ready for this moment\u2014I had been waiting for this baby.) My partner, who is 14 years older than me, had also longed for this family. That evening, I greeted him in that t-shirt, prepared with a baby pajama and my pregnancy test showing two pink lines! Yes, keep calm, darling, it\u2019s happening! He froze at the door, thinking it was a joke. No, this was real. That hug full of hope, joy, and love was finally ours. This man I had chosen, who had chosen me, and this little being who had chosen us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But life had other plans, and that immense joy lasted only a few weeks\u2026 I will remember that morning for the rest of my life. My partner had gone out to play golf, and I was taking a nap. Suddenly, cramps seized me. My dog, Leica, a Great Dane, and my cat seemed to sense something was wrong. I often say they have a sixth sense; that morning, they were both glued to me. My dog rested his head on my belly\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I felt a liquid running down my thighs. I got up, and the bleeding intensified. Panic set in\u2014a feeling of \u201cNo, this can\u2019t be real, I can\u2019t be going through this.\u201d I rushed to the bathroom, my dog following with a worried look. In that moment, I understood that nature had decided otherwise for the three of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I called my partner: \u201cI\u2019m bleeding.\u201d I called my sister. I didn\u2019t need to say more; tears and horror overtook me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I reached out to the helpline:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
– What am I supposed to do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was told that spotting could happen and to monitor the flow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But as the hours passed, the bleeding only got worse. My partner arrived, and we held each other, frozen in this emotional rollercoaster: maybe it\u2019s just bleeding? Eventually, we went to the hospital. The staff was kind and empathetic. It was dark, and I felt exhausted. We saw the doctor shortly after, who told me we would do an ultrasound to see if a curettage would be necessary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That word chilled me; I didn\u2019t want to go through that\u2014it felt like too much. After the ultrasound, we waited in a room. The doctor entered:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
– I\u2019m really sorry for you. Your baby is no longer there; you have lost the fetus naturally, and there will be no need for a curettage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In that moment, all hope that this was just normal bleeding or a nightmare evaporated. My partner, with tears in his eyes, his sorrow evident\u2026 I felt like I had failed, and he felt helpless. Another hug, for that little being\u2026 who was no longer with us but would remain in our hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that moment, I wouldn\u2019t have wanted to be anywhere else but in his arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The days that followed were a blur. I had to share this \u201cnews.\u201d It seems that this word is often used for positive things, but this time, it was bad news after good\u2026 Is this all real?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All these questions flooded my mind:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What did I do or not do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why us?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why after two years of waiting?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then came the semi-awkward and na\u00efve phrases from well-meaning people trying to comfort me with comments like \u201cYou\u2019re young,\u201d \u201cAww, that happens often,\u201d or \u201cYou\u2019ll see, the next one will stick.\u201d If only simply saying, \u201cYou know, I have no words for your pain, but I\u2019m here,\u201d would have sufficed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then a friend told me something that deeply soothed my grief:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
– This little being needed to feel deeply desired; that\u2019s what he came to seek in your belly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This thought brought me comfort because I believe in little souls that float, choosing their passage to life. Why this moment with me? To feel that he was loved and desired. If I was his passage to that unconditional love, then I accept. My partner and I cuddled in bed, crying for the one we had already imagined in our arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To you, little being, you guided me through this journey of fertility, far more complex than I had imagined. This is our story, our adventure, and our hearts remain with you, little soul. From this experience, I\u2019ve learned a lesson: we don\u2019t have control over everything, and it\u2019s disorienting when we long for something so deeply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Letting go of the profound desire to be a mother\u2026 I don\u2019t think that\u2019s possible, but I do know that my emotions are valid, and my story matters, just as yours does, dear mom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To all those who are experiencing this, I\u2019m thinking of you, and I\u2019m sending you my thoughts.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Story of Marc and S\u00e9r\u00e9na From a young age, I dreamed of being a mother. I played with dolls\u2014yes, the kind that peed and pooped. I would beg my mother to buy real newborn diapers and pajamas for them. I idolized this role, envisioning it with the na\u00efvet\u00e9 of a child. I could hardly […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":11,"featured_media":6286,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6339","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n