Well it was 5.5 years ago & I still haven't forgotten Emmi. Yes that was my name for my baby as it grew. I was 31 years old & blessed with a pregnancy I had been praying for & trying only for a few months.
Emmi my miracle. Not just any miracle either, but then again they never are. They are all such special gifts of light. I remember telling my mother who had been not so subtly telling me to make her a grandmother. She gave up pestering my sister who on the horrific IVF program. I told my mother as she lay in pain with a nurse helping her & in her last months with me I was trying to get pregnant. It was the last time I saw her smile.
Of course I realised I was pregnant to late to tell her. There would have been no way for me to have known. I burried her barely 1week preg. I lost that pregnancy 8 weeks latter. OMG so much grief & so much sadnessith this memory of my Emmi.
A couple of months later pregnancy #2. Full term little girl, she's 4.5. (oh and as fate would have it born 1year latter almost to the day mum died, gave her mums name) Finally gathered up the courage for another & 8 weeks preggy. OMg please let it be okay. Please!
These words chime like my personal anthem, echoing continuously. Praying that I'm heard. I hate first trimester, the paranoia sets in