Aside the many hormones in overdrive, these journeys are one of the
toughest a woman goes on. A return is not guaranteed. Even if there’s a
return, the bearer is never the same again. Physical, emotional,
psychological, spiritual and social changes are inevitable.
The desire to birth children, becloud us so much so that our gazes
are on the price, largely never on the process. A price not guaranteed.
I write not as a ‘spoiler’ or ingrate, I write rawly, a broken
woman who has been through these journeys, and who has also lost people
on these journeys.
I maintain, pregnancy is underrated. Making and growing a child is
not a picnic. No doubt, the making for some is breeze but the larger
percentage of women agree the growing is not a child’s play.
A jumble of events in your erstwhile organized life…
13 IVF’s after and finally, there’s a bun in the oven. 6 months of
taking extra precautions, 6 months of palpitating breaths, 6 long months
of endless night watch and vigils, 6 months of indescribable feeling of
anxiety and excitement- the bun gets burnt not because of the length of
stay in the oven, but maybe temperature, or is it just nature?
And you say this is not exhausting?
5 years after, luck crawls at the door and there’s another faint
line on the stick or ‘Clearblue’ is gracious enough to pop ‘3 weeks’ on
its screen. The tortuous journey begins. 7 long months of nausea and
vomiting, nosebleeds, carpal tunnel syndrome, sciatica, restless leg
syndrome, gestational diabetes, cervical incompetence etc and the wee
one decides to make an unannounced entrance. Several attempts at pushing
results to forceps but for some medical reasons, the child decides
against the world, it wanders far away in dreamland. Let’s say
preeclampsia or placenta previa. Whichever one tickles your fancy. The
Mum-To-Be then decides to go in search of the wandering child and both
wander into beyond.
Regardless of medical competence, provision and administration
these journeys and its trophy are not guaranteed and that’s why there
will never be zero mortality rate.
My heart goes out to every family that has burnt a bun, lost a
love, or buried instead of make merry in these processes. We would do
anything to stop these endings if we could but hey, ain’t we just mere
mortals?
To those that have been there and back with their trophies; I know
you got your scars to remind you of the ‘hell-a’ job you did. May I also
congratulate you once again and remind you to remain forever thankful
and not to spare a hug for your trophies.
TTC and anticipating; Hold on there will you? It’s not guaranteed
but it does happen. So may you have it if you want it that badly.
Arghh, I shudder at the thought of the oven or is it the kitchen? I
guess more like the Builder who in this case also designs the journey.
WOMENOFRUBIES
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