About a year ago, I birthed, named and lost my angel, Abigail. It’s scary how life has continued to move on despite this. What’s scarier is the depth of grief once your consolers are gone. It just does not seem to go.
I loved and still love my baby so much. She held on to life even though there was barely a chance that she would make it. She continued to beat and kick. She continued to be strong even when her mother and protector was terrified. She brought joy, inspired and continues to inspire me everyday.
I will never forget the daughter the world will never remember or let me acknowledge. The daughter I saw so briefly but never got to hold. The daughter I never dressed or fed. My daughter for whom my life was put on hold for over five months as I let everything go, just so that she would survive, even though her older sister did not. Stupidly, I rejoiced, when I thought I was in the clear.
This was an experience that showed me the best and the worst of the world. I am not sure this is the space for that, but I learned that people only care to the extent that they will be affected. Even if it’s their job and within their power to ensure a positive outcome. So if you know you’ll be the most affected, trust your judgment the most, even if it’s not your area of expertise. I learned that human beings are limited. We are only so strong. We only know so much. We are only so wise. We care only so much. My circle shrunk further, but that’s a good thing.
I love my angel so much and I am proud of her. I am absolutely confident that given different circumstances, she would have been a massive asset to her world. My daughter who couldn’t live because Nigeria decided she was too young to live, but lived as long as she could. My daughter showed me that life is not over until it is truly over. Mummy Miracle, the doctors called me, because of you. My daughter who taught me to be brave, to withstand pain, and to cry. Cry, I have, but it’s not every day anymore. I would do it all again, if it would bring you back to me.
I know how, but I don’t know why this happened. I don’t know why, despite all we did, fate (or whoever it is) decided I should not have you. For three months, I struggled to put my thoughts on paper and it’s taken a year to share that paper. Last year, with your big sis, I started writing before I left the hospital. My absolutely gorgeous angels. Thank you for all you have taught me. I am so sorry I was not strong enough. I am so sorry for this situation that went absolutely wrong.
Some have told me it was divine fate, whatever that means. I am a Christian. I trust God and committed you both into His hands. I am grateful for the chance I got to spend with you both. You are irreplaceable. I believe heaven is taking care of you for me (do angel babies go to heaven?). It’s more beautiful there, anyway. Nothing here can compare.
P.S. Public Service Announcement
To anyone who has had late or second trimester miscarriages, first, I am terribly sorry. Secondly, if the doctor can’t seem to provide an explanation, look into Cervical Incompetence and whether you may need a cerclage as treatment. Cervical incompetence or insufficiency occurs when weak cervical tissue causes or contributes to premature birth, or the loss of an otherwise healthy pregnancy. It’s not joyful reading, but it’s better read than experienced.
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