Baby movement, its a magical thing. When you go through infertility, that magic is amped up, as you’ve dreamed of it for so long. Avas first movements were fleeting, is this real, can I really feel the movement of the tiny life I am growing inside my body? Then you start putting it all together again, this is really your life, your pregnancy, your fairy tale come true.
When I was pregnant with Ava, very early on, I didn’t want to announce it. I was scared I would lose her just like I had lost my babies in March, and it wasn’t something I was ready for. Then the bleeding happened and I knew it was over, but it wasn’t, she was still there fighting for life, and I was forever in awe of her strength. It was that night, the day after Memorial Day 2016, that I announced her impending arrival. I knew instinctively from that moment on that she was a little girl, and that was confirmed only 6 weeks later, when I was 13 weeks, we officially had our Ava.
This is all movement, not in the sense of feeling her physically, but these moments of her life are movements that FOREVER changed my life. The movement of my child from an egg to an embryo, to a gestational sac, fetal pole with a flickering heartbeat, little gummy bear, perfect silhouette, stubborn princess, and finally a beautiful angel.
When I was in the hospital, after giving birth and losing half of the blood from my body, fading in and out while being taken back for a d&c that I was “awake” for, but I don’t remember a moment of because I had lost so much blood… I woke up. I was in my hospital room, it was silent and dark, Eric was sleeping on the couch next to my bed and I felt it. I felt movement. Initially I was so positive I had just woken from the worst nightmare imaginable, because there is no way I can feel my child move inside me after what I had been through. Then, I looked over to the small basket that held my daughter, and it all flooded back, every conscious memory of the past 24 hours flooded my brain all at once and took my breathe away.
It’s unfair, the movement I felt was my now empty womb retracting, what was left of my pregnancy was already reverting back to its former state, and was tricking me. This went on for a week or so, and I hated my body even more for it. I would scream at Eric for placing a hand near my stomach, I would wake up in the middle of the night, when Ava was most active, and swear I felt her. And then again, it would hit me. I’m no longer the mother of a living and growing child, but the mother of an angel.
I have struggled with this title in and of itself since losing our baby. I have a hard time deciding what I believe, and I know I don’t believe 100% in the traditional heaven and hell scenario, that being said, I believe there has to be a utopia for innocent souls. For babies and children, for those who are pure and innocent, where their souls are content and they are eternally safe. And I believe Ava will always be a part of our family, from that place, in our hearts, with her siblings, forever, she will be our angel, watching over us. She has given me so much strength in the past few weeks, and so much clarity, there is no denying in my mind that she is present all the time.
As we move forward, and I experience the movement of another child, I will always remember how quickly that movement changes, and will take in every change, flutter and kick as if it may be the last. I am certain our rainbow baby will be home with us soon, and their sisters movement will have paved their way 💜