My story happened in 1947. I do not know the full details of this story,
My story happened in 1947. I do not know the full details of this story, because I was only twelve months old at the time. My mother died having given birth to a stillborn son. She was thirty three. The cause was pre-eclampsia.
What I do know how shattering that experience was, and how it has affected the lives of her family.
My grandparents grieved all their lives. My father re-married, but never forgot her. I think of her everyday, and suffered as I grew up from the loneliness and anxiety that losing a mother at a young age brings. She was remembered at my sixtieth birthday dinner.
My daughters know that the aim of a pregnancy is a healthy mother and baby, regardless of fashions in childbearing. This year we await the birth of our first grandchild. None of us take it a positive outcome for granted.
After surviving a very traumatic first pregnancy with a nightmare delivery (30 hours of magnesium-induced hell, ending in an emergency c-section) and even more debilitating recovery, one would think I was DONE having children. Let's be ...