A Butterfly for Sophia Chegia

January 16, 2016

 

"Who has a long life, who just a moment; love can not be measured with time."

 

How is it possible that the most important moment of a woman's life could have a dark side?

 

Well, it happens, and unfortunately it is very common. 

 

I'm not talking about the physical problems that we usually have to face during pregnancy. I'm talking about something that you would have never thought about before. 

 

A woman doesn't even want to acknowledge termination, miscarriage, stillborn or loss because pregnancy is supposed to be the most joyful moment during our lives. 

 

This was the same for me. 

 

I didn't have the slightest clue about the problems that can occur even during the later stages of pregnancy. Now I know. A lot. Some might say, too much. 

 

I know that there is a huge hidden world of women that are in pain because they have lost their babies for "some reason".  The saddest part is that this world is still hiddeb because nobody wants to openly associate the word 'death' with the word 'birth' in the same sentence. So it will always be hard, when you need help, even if just for explaining how you feel. 

 

It hurts, it is unnatural, and it is unexpected. 

 

Nobody has the power to prevent bad, or better yet, downright awful occurences from happening. We can't manipulate nature, and we certainly can't manage the miracle of life. We simply cannot. 

 

This awareness comes only from experience. Only tose who have experienced a loss can truly understand what I mean. 

 

Ever baby born sleeping, those carried but never met, those held but not taken home, the ones that came home but couldn't stay, have to be remembered. 

 

Breaking the silence is the only way to make this side of pregnancy less horrific. 

 

I like to remember my daughter, Sophia. 

 

I like to remember when I found out that I was pregnancy for the first time. It was on 23rd March, 2015. She was technically only a symbol on my pregnancy stick, but for me she was already my entire world. 

 

I was 6 weeks pregnant. I knew my life was going to change forever. From that point on, fear and happiness bonded together. 

 

"I will be a mom!" She'd be my priority above everything for the rest of our lives. We were already united and depended on each other, although we barely knew each other. We only needed time. 

 

Time that I decided to enjoy in tranquility, taking a break from work to defend and focus only on her, with the precious help of my husband/newly dad. All my attention was concentrated on her, even if I didn't know whether or not what I was doing, or how I was approaching pregnancy, was right or wrong. 

 

I was happy. My husband was happy. 

 

Every day was a step forward, one more day with my baby. 

 

At that point, this was my good side of pregnancy. The unexpected. The day I met her for the first time, i didn't know what to expect, the doctor showed me the miracle of life. She was my miracle, so tiny but so strong! 

 

I couldn't stop watching her; I couldn't believe she was there. Then I couldn't wait to see her again. 

 

There are moments that are unforgettable. 

 

Loking at my baby was one of those until, suddenly, all had changed. 

 

Hydrocephaly. One word. A case so severe tha tshe would be incompatible with life. 

 

My miracle, at that point I was 17 weeks pregnant, was not so miraculous anymore. Something happened, still now, after the results of autopsy, nobody knows what. A bad fluke? Bad luck? Who knows!

 

What I do know is that my world, on 27th May 2015, fell apart like a glass shattering on the floor. 

 

My mom came with me, my husband was at work, not a big deal since I was there only to find out the sex of the baby. I couldn't hear what the doctor was explaining to me, it was like I was in a bubble...all around me was frozen and confused. 

 

Shock took over me completely. I didn't cry. I was so traumatized that my tears became blocked. I was speechless. My emotions were motionless and I was living that moment like I was not there. 

 

Why me? She was so perfect waving her tiny hands around and spinning and dancing in my womb in each ultrasound we did. 

 

She was dying but she didn't know it, and I couldn't do anything to save her. I didn't have any options. Nature had chosen for her. For me. For us. 

 

During the next few days, i waited and prayed for another miracle, but nothing happened. What happened was that day my labor was induced. I was in labor for 5 days. These were, without a doubt, the longest and most painful days of my life. 

 

The doctors told me to breath, because it was the only way to "alleviate the pain". The pain was so agonizing that I thought, "I'm going to die." You feel like you are dying because you know that beyond that pain there is nothing. 

 

There is no life. There is no baby's crying. 

 

That pain in so heavy that it makes you feel empty. That pain takes away what you are. I was like a blank page with a life to be reqritten because these things change you. Forever. 

 

Sophia was born on 10th June, 2015 at 5:30 PM. This time I cried. A lot. 

 

There was nothing left, only a strange feeling of emptiness. She was not with me anymore after 20 long, beautiful and unhappy weeks of life together. 

 

I was her mommy and she was my daughter, and from that moment, her cradle would have been my heart.

 

I like to think that there is always a sunny day after the storm. I'm still waiting for that moment, and I'm still grieving. But as much as it hurts, I thank Sophia every day because she changed me. She made me a better person, she gave me another point of view on life, and about living.

 

She taught me how important it is not to waste time with who you love. She gave me the honor of being her mom. 

 

With Love, 

Eugenia Chegia

Romy, Italy

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