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The guilt

You become pregnant… you’re ecstatic, so happy. You find out the baby has a ‘condition’ and that you have the option for termination but don’t take it, you don’t give it a second thought. Your pregnancy carries on and everything is great until it’s time to give birth; you’re not ready, you don’t want the baby to come out, you want to keep him where he is, you’re protecting him, nothing can harm him, you have so much love for this little human growing inside you, you want to meet him, you want to cuddle him in your arms look into his eyes and tell him how much you love him… beyond words, yet you know the safest place for him is inside you, protected in his little bubble. You know this isn’t an option and it fills you with dread, you’re petrified because you can no longer protect him. You’re bringing your child, the most precious thing to you, into a potentially life threatening situation – what have you done?! What if it’s not ok? What if things don’t work out the way they should, in theory? What if you’re bringing your child into the world to die before his time, into a life filled with pain, sickness and suffering?

My son was born with a life threatening condition, which I knew about while I was pregnant. A termination didn’t even enter my head as an option even though it was offered. The survival stats were great, but survival stats are the end result… the journey wasn’t so easy. I often had a feeling of guilt throughout my sons treatment about the quality of life I had given him. Had I been selfish? Was I thinking this is my only chance to have a boy so I blocked everything else out? I’m the reason for his suffering, I’ve done this to him… its genetic and the genes are from me.
While my son was ill these thoughts went through my head on a regular basis.

My son is now a happy, healthy three year old. I was once asked by a lady who was a carrier of the same life threatening condition, would I go through it again, would I have any more kids?
I knew before I had my kids I was a carrier, and I LOVE my son beyond words, but we were fortunate enough that things worked out for us. I always said that if it was going to happen, I’d rather it be with my first so I didn’t have any other children to think about. Charlie was my third and I can honestly say if he was my first I wouldn’t have had any more children, I could never put my family though that again and I certainly could never put another child through it.

The moral of this story is the end result is a tiny part of the bigger picture. There were times when I was a broken woman and had to keep fighting for the sake of my child, people who don’t know what we went through would never know this about me. The majority of people have a story to tell, regardless of how they present themselves during and after the event.

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