I am drawn to loss, specifically Potter's Syndrome because that loss I understand all too well. I follow communities of Potter's Syndrome parents and hope that my words provide some help to those pregnant with and preparing to deliver their precious babies as well as those grieving their little ones. I am also drawn to multiple losses. You see, once you've lost a baby it seems that you feel a kinship with those who have also lost a baby. But even more of a kinship with those who have lost a baby in the same way that you have lost yours. The death of a baby is isolating when surrounded by a sea of healthy round bellies and beautiful breathing infants. It's something to find a place of understanding and belonging. Well, when I lost my second child that group, though comforting, wasn't enough anymore. I needed to find others like myself. Others who had lost more than one baby. Sad though it was, I found a few other families who had not just lost more than one baby, but like myself had lost more than one to Potter's Syndrome. I needed to find those people and needed to hear their stories of the future. Because I knew I wasn't done. I knew there would be more children in my future and it was so very important to hear of ones that had survived.
Now I've walked that path and begun a different one. One that no longer involves monthly charting, pregnancy tests, heartbeat checks or ultrasounds. I will never again be laying on an operating table waiting to see if my newborn cries. For the most part I have moved beyond the bittersweet of that moment, propelled in part by the blissfully angry cries of our newest daughter as she took her first breaths - yes, breaths - just four and a half months ago. My body changed that day but so did my mind and my heart. I am no longer a vehicle for life. I will never again give that gift. Now my job is simply (hah, simply) to nurture life. For that I am thankful. It breaks my heart to read new stories of Potter's pregnancies and to know the gamut of emotions that those families are experiencing. That will not be me anymore, not my pregnancy and not my children. Selfishly I am relieved. Watching one of my babies die was enough, two was almost too much.