Abnormally Sweet

Through most of my life in nearly all situations my intellect or wits have enabled me to overcome obstacles, or issues. I consider myself capable of handling anything, essentially. When I could not afford college I got a job that offered to pay tuition. When that company forgot that promise, I found a better company to work with and completed my degree while working full time; in engineering. Problems are like challenges or puzzles I enjoy solving, much like engineering.

I approached having children along these lines. Fertility issues, simply go right to the best doctor. Follow the schedule, do the acupuncture, eat the recommended food, complete the series of group therapy for support and preparation, and stay healthy. I hate shots. I get over it and take hundreds of shots to get pregnant. Problem? No problem. I got pregnant and I thrived with the pregnancy, apart from avoiding strong smells. Each medical concern that arises, we follow the doctor’s recommendations and move forward.

Then I realize with our loss that I have failed as a parent before it has even begun. My intuition felt like a constant companion, a theme song humming me through my days of my second trimester. Yet it betrayed me. My darling Maria had stopped living in the last couple weeks, and I had not the slightest idea or sense of her death. Since it was already in the past, there was no urgency or attempted resolution. There was no appropriate response or call to action. There was only silence and the intermittent soothing of my darling baby gently moving around, stroking my insides as if to calm me. His comfort immediately was my sole purpose, and yet I could hardly know if he was truly okay.

To this day I wish I could release him from the difficulties of his birth story. What good does all of my training actually provide me, all my abilities, however smart I might be, can not fix this for him. I started off as a Mom being unable to fix his first big problem. His birth being associated with death will always be his story. His sister that never got to be will always be his only sibling. When people ask if he is an only child, he will always look at me unsure which answer is the best. 

In some ways I believe it has brought us closer. They say Elvis and his mother had an abnormally close relationship. His twin did not survive birth either. I see his relationship with his mom as the absolute sweetest thing about him. Then I see how it seemed to destroy him when she died. I embrace the abnormally close relationship with my child, while I realize I will ultimately fail him as a mom once more in the most natural and unavoidable way. Another problem I can not fix.