What My Child Means To Me

What My Child Means To Me

Today I am joining Nickie at Typecast in the Yummy Mummy Week, helping to support the CLIC Sargent Charity. Although I am extremely lucky to have had no experience of cancer personally, this is a subject that touches me greatly. The writing prompt this week is What Your Children Mean To You, so here is my food for your thoughts.

On August 4th 2006, my 23rd birthday, John and I took our vows and became husband and wife. Almost from that day on we decided to try for a baby and turn ourselves from a couple to a family, something we had both always wished for. Cut to eighteen months later, with no baby on the way I decided to seek medical advice as to the reason. The doctor referred us to the Assisted Conception Unit at our nearby hospital and over the next two years we were tested, I was diagnosed with PCOS and we went through our first treatment of IUI, which was heartbreakingly unsuccessful. By that point I had practically given up hope of conceiving myself and had begun to face the fact that adoption may be our only hope. When John was given the option to relocate to America for eighteen months, we decided that it was a good time to put our dreams for a family on hold. Little did we know only three months into our trip we would fall pregnant without even trying!

We were in our apartment in NYC when I took that first positive pregnancy test. It had the faintest of lines there could ever be, I presumed it was a false positive. However after two more tests over the next 48 hours I began to let it sink in a little that it might finally have happened for us. But after a trip to the OB/GYN, our faint hopes were dashed. The doctor advised us he could see a sac but nothing inside it and not-so-tactly told us it was either too early, an ectopic pregnancy or we would miscarry (don’t worry he paid the price for his lack of tact by having me blub all over him). It just felt like we had had our hopes dangled under our noses only to have them ripped away. I spent the next week on the edge of a nervous breakdown, so when the next blood test revealed my Hcg numbers had increased, which meant we had a viable pregnancy, I could have screamed from the rooftops!

It is now almost two years after those tense few days and I am 23 weeks pregnant with our second child. When I look back on those difficult times, the doubts and the tears, I am so grateful to be in the position I am in today and one I never thought back then we could achieve. I have been able to give my husband the family he always hoped for and my parents the much-longed-for grandchildren. My daughter is such a joy to be around and although parenthood brings it’s many ups and downs, I am thankful I have been given this opportunity. So what does my child mean to me? The world. And I will strive every day to make sure she knows that.

If this is a cause that means something to you, please join in and #dosomethingyummy. You can write your own post using prompts every Monday from February, and link them back up at Nickie’s blog on Thursday.

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