(This post is the first part of a series about my IUGR story. You can read the second part here.)
There’s no time of the year like Christmas!
I never go over the top, but every year, I set up a small tree and some decorations.
I love the music. It gives me hope and joy, no matter how crappy year I’ve had.
The picture of next year, when I’m celebrating with my babies kept popping into my mind over and over again.
Future plans suddenly felt like they are in an arms distance.
I was sure if I reached out, I could stroke the edge of those dreams. I could chip a little piece for me.
18 weeks. Right on Christmas Day, I wasn’t feeling sick anymore.
I could stay up in the afternoon longer again. The best gift my twins could give me from the inside.
And a specialist scan that I and my spouse took routinely.
This is how it all started.
“You need to consider RFA. There’s a very high chance the small baby will die in utero and will affect the normal developing baby.”
The way a couple of sentences can crash you and break you down.
I know it broke me down…
A week of researching the conditions. Going through the doctor’s notes and trying to figure out all the acronyms written on a piece of green paper.
Why is it green? Why isn’t it just white like all the other ones? Why do I have to look at my folder and see a different colour sticking out straight away?
They want me to kill my baby. They want me to decide that my baby who has a chance of not being able to survive should die and my normal developing baby should live.
IUGR was confirmed at 20 weeks. By then, I’ve heard about RFA three times.
New doctors every week. New ways of explaining how to go in with a needle and insert it into the umbilical cord of my “abnormal fetus” until there is no more blood flow going to the baby.
The blood work of the placenta shows the smaller baby has about 30% of the placenta while the bigger baby has the rest.
The doctor looks at me and I can see regret in her eyes. She’s so certain and so confusing.
My head is spinning, I want to go home.
I cry every day, and then I feel guilty. I feel guilty of stressing my babies out. I feel guilty of considering RFA. I feel guilty of not considering RFA.
I read Facebook groups. I’m crazily looking for something that can help but I find no absolution.
I talk to my friends and family, but nobody seems to understand. They want reassurance that everything will be fine.
They want something I want more than anything…
If you know someone going through the same, share this post with them as a sign of your support!
As a thank you for following my story, I’d love to give you 5 free social media templates for IUGR Awareness Day.