It was Autumn in Michigan, my most favorite time of the year, when I found myself pregnant for the first time. The momentous occasion only made even more exciting due to being a successful month in the many that had passed before in the offices of my fertility doctor.
Young as I was, I found myself unable to conceive. I had known of the risks since my teenage years when I was diagnosed with poly cystic ovary syndrome. I wanted to be a mom, a young mom at that. The pain and frustration of years of unsuccessful blood work and constant monitoring had made me lose all faith. Then, one day, the test at the doctor’s turned a definitive positive.
My joy was incomparable. I bought a coaster that read Daddy-to-be to surprise my husband. The plan successfully achieved when I told him I had placed his favorite juice in the fridge. His eyes full of tears, our happiness contagious.
We had a few weeks of dreams and planning and thinking about the future, when during an afternoon at a round-up meeting at work, sharp pains made me excuse myself. The blood was the tell all sign. The pain dug so deep that I could not ignore it, I could not pretend it was not happening. I was losing my baby.
It was the end of the work day so I called my doctor’s as soon as I got in the car -Come to the office tomorrow first thing in the morning- the nurse said in the most caring way she could convey.
I could not stop crying on the phone trying to explain to my husband what was going on. Then a final call to a friend with whom I was trying to find a bridge between our dividing worlds. She had asked me out for cake to celebrate the news… I cancelled on her when she was already at the set spot. I hung up.
I went home to the darkness and solitude that this wretched moment of loss had brought to me. I cried of physical pain but I cried even more of the emotional one. All I wanted to be at that moment in life was to be a mother. To grow life within me. My body just did not want to be a part of that wish.
My husband came and together, we had the saddest night of our life together. The next morning the doctor confirmed that the pregnancy was over. All we could do was for me to rest and recover then start the process again a few months down the road.
At that moment in time, we were busy building our first home. The colors for the baby room had been decided in those weeks while I was pregnant. We moved into the new place with no due date, nobody to wait on. Then a friend told me about planting something beautiful that would grow with us to always honor and remember the life of that baby that touched our lives briefly.
I loved the idea so we planted a miniature cherry blossom tree that would have foliage, or flowers, or berries year-round. Constantly changing and growing. Being there outside of our window for us to cherish.
The tree grew with our family for nine whole years becoming a beautiful addition to the scenery in our backyard. In those years, I had the gift of becoming the mom of three special children that fill my every day. Nonetheless, the scar of the loss of my first baby remains, hidden quietly until someone touches it.
It is hard to think that now that we moved, we no longer have our baby tree outside of our window, but no matter where we are, we always remember and honor that time when you came and touched our lives. We will always remember that tremendous joy of knowing you were close to us, even when it was just in passing.
Ten years have come and gone but you remain with us.