Views: 920 We were going to have a baby.
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You know, I'm pretty bad with children. I don't even know if I really like children. Sure, they're adorable, nothing warms the heart more than when a random stranger's baby has his gaze fixated on you. But whenever I play with someone's young child, they just seem to start crying around me and I have no clue what I did and I start panicking and think about all the thoughts that the parent will have about how wretched I am for making children cry. I'm just bad with children.
My brother in law, however, is the exact opposite. I don't know how he does it. Children just seem to love him, and he loves playing with children. Maybe it's because he's still a child at heart. One of the funniest moments from my recent trip to Greece was my uncle's very own four year old son, my cousin, rejecting his father and running to my brother in law. My sister, like most girls, also had fantasies about having children, and these were resonating strong within her as she grew up. My sister is delicate and childish as times, yet she has a strong motherly aura about her. She's my half sister actually, and she had a very punishing, abusive raising. When she told me this, I just couldn't help but feel like this hard life is the reason why the people she loves, she loves with more than her heart.
Just looking at these two, I can only think about how perfect they would be as parents.
They agreed. They wanted children. I remember one and a half years ago, they were talking about trying for one. They were doing the do for one and a half years. Some time ago, they went to the doctor and they came back with supplements.
They wanted children. They tried so hard for children. They weren't rewarded for far too long.
And then they got a child.
There was something indubitably suspicious going on that night for dinner. I was told specifically to be down right as they called me as opposed to my usual routine of finishing off the bit of homework that I had momentum in already, simply because, "We're a family, we should spend time together!" Of course, the whole suspiciousness of this situation really had my mind going wild. I was thinking up crazy things, and eventually, I settled for the possibility that my sister was pregnant. Sure enough, at the dinner table, my sister radiating excitement, announced to everyone that the tests were positive.
There's a child coming!
My sister's husband, trying to maintain himself, just couldn't. His face grew the widest smile that I had ever seen from him. My mum as well, who's aged and becoming slow, was also unable to contain herself. Dad seemed to be overjoyed as well. He was just so happy to see not really his but may as well be little girl growing into a mother and being so overjoyed. I was sitting there simply processing how I would have to be an uncle at 16. Overwhelmed, but overjoyed.
There's no one I care for more than my sister. Her happiness is what keeps me going. Her sadness is what consumes me from inside.
The next few days, the atmosphere was the most convivial it has ever been. My dad, who's normally stressed from work, just couldn't stop smiling. I didn't show it, but I was super excited. I told all my close friends about it. I couldn't wait. My sister as well was talking about how excited she was, and how she couldn't for her little poppyseed to grow. The name "poppyseed" seemed to really resonate within us all, and we agreed that that would be the baby's nickname when he or she popped out. My sister, like your stereotypical pregnant mother, would just spend ages looking at her tummy, rubbing it and smiling.
I never really understood why mothers became so attached to their children when they were still no larger than the eye of a needle until my sister became pregnant. I never really understood why women found it so hard to abort their children or lose it early. The child wasn't actually alive, she never really got to bond with a living child. I found images of mothers holding their aborted children pretty disturbing if anything.
But just watching my sister's journey to getting a child, I understood why. I saw my sister's journey, all of it. I saw her trying her best every day to try and get this child she wanted so much. I heard her ramblings and fantasies about what she would do with her child, what she would name it and how she would raise it. That day she found out she was pregnant, you could tell that this day would possibly be the day that she cherishes so dearly for the rest of her life. Through her, I understood why there was such a strong connection. Right at that moment of conception, the child is yours, is a part of you. Even though you have never seen him or her, you've already shared so many moments with your child.
One night, my dad called me down, and I saw everyone sitting in the lounge room, with my sister on the phone. I really didn't know what was going on. I just sat there. I was there for a couple of minutes before I noticed my sister's eyes begin to redden. I couldn't watch this. I couldn't watch my sister cry. I just walked back upstairs nonchalantly, trying not to think about what she was about to hear. I didn't walk back to my room though, little curious me stayed upstairs and leaned over the balustrade of the stairs, just listening. The call ended. My sister sounded so quiet for a split second before she just completely broke down. Her baby wasn't growing. She was told that she should probably expect a miscarriage.
I shouldn't have stayed, I really shouldn't have. Her tears just pierced through me. All those fond memories, all those moments of overwhelming happiness were simply unwarranted. And I just sat in my room, tearing. I just sat there for two hours, not really wanting to do anything. My whole family was quiet. My sister's husband was trying to comfort my sister, but he really just couldn't find the motivation. My dad was desperately trying to spew out things that might help her.
"Don't worry, the baby is still young."
"You can get pregnant again."
"At least we know you can actually get pregnant."
I begun the painful process of telling everyone I told about the baby that there wasn't going to be a baby. Every single time I had to type out the words, "My sister's baby isn't happening," I would just hear the sound of my sister bawling her eyes out like a small child, and every organ and muscle in my heart and stomach would feel like it was just cramping up. I can't thank my friends enough, every single one I told did everything they could to make sure I was all right, but I just couldn't help but feel guilty. My sister was suffering the most out of everyone. She was the one that needed all this comforting, not me.
This was a week ago.
My sister still trudged out to work the next day. She didn't tell her boss she was pregnant, and she certainly didn't want them to know about her situation now. She was still fighting back tears in the morning. I could tell she could just feel someone spectre beating the tears out of her, and she was just trying so hard not to. She came to me in silence, hugged me, and I was on my way to school. I was depressed most of the school day. My aviation teacher seemed to sense this, and he kept on asking me if I was feeling well. I said I was. Everyone else in the aviation classroom knew that I was feeling awful inside, and they just looked at me sympathetically, but they said no words. Towards the end, I was chirpy old me again. Just being around my friends really did make me feel better. My sister came back from work and she seemed to be doing well for the situation.
A few days later, my sister came back gleaming. She was told that there was a potentially wrong reading, and that there's a chance that there was still a baby growing inside her. I could tell that she was so hopeful for this. She wanted a baby, and the baby she tried so hard for and then lost could potentially be found again. I was feeling the excitement as well. I thought I used up all my tears up for the initial announcement, so whatever the results of this second test, I would be fine. There would be a scan coming up to check if the baby had grown at all.
Well, the scan was today. My sister doesn't work Mondays, so she usually picks me up from school. Her husband took the day off too for the scan. My sister is stressed, but I can tell that she's determined. She is going to get this baby back, I can just see it in her eyes. I can feel her excitement. I know it, all that tragedy will be for nothing. I was so looking forward to my sister coming out of that scan with a huge smile on her face. She walks in with her husband as I wait in the waiting room, and she turns around to give me a smile before she walks in.
She comes out with tears in her eyes. Again.
The car trip back home was deathly silent. No one really wanted to say anything. Turns out I was right, I really did use up all my tears last time. I just felt numb. I could hear my sister sniffling up front and she was looking out the window. Her husband hugged her before we got in the car, but he was silent too. You know, I thought my sister was coping pretty well. She wasn't actually bawling her eyes out again like I thought she would. She was getting stronger.
As we got home and walking out of the driveway to the familiar front door, she looked at me and said:
"The baby didn't grow. There is no baby. I wish there never was a baby."
And then she ran up to her room and proceeded to bawl her eyes out while videos about 'How to cope with pregnancy loss' could be heard.
I thought I was strong. I though I got over it. But no. It all came back to me. I followed her steps and went into my room to just spend some time alone again. And here I am, typing this.
She tried way too hard. She wanted this way too much. Yet, nothing. This is it. All she has is a dead sesame seed inside of her. It's never going to grow again. All the memories my sister shared with it, the whole journey getting it. Nothing. It sucks.
I'm so lucky to have such great friends. They all seem to know how sentimental I am, and they all did their best to comfort me, and I feel great now. The calm after the storm. But my sister is feeling awful right now. She needs the support, but I can't help her at this moment. It really ****ing sucks.
I can't do anything to help my sister. She just wants to be alone. All I can do is just give her the biggest brotherly hug I can give her when she comes out. We were going to have a baby, and now there isn't one.
I love my sister so much, she's a part of me. It hurts that I can't help her. She is a part of me.
Her sadness is what consumes me from inside.
But her happiness is what keeps me going.
I just want to her to be happy again.
My brother in law, however, is the exact opposite. I don't know how he does it. Children just seem to love him, and he loves playing with children. Maybe it's because he's still a child at heart. One of the funniest moments from my recent trip to Greece was my uncle's very own four year old son, my cousin, rejecting his father and running to my brother in law. My sister, like most girls, also had fantasies about having children, and these were resonating strong within her as she grew up. My sister is delicate and childish as times, yet she has a strong motherly aura about her. She's my half sister actually, and she had a very punishing, abusive raising. When she told me this, I just couldn't help but feel like this hard life is the reason why the people she loves, she loves with more than her heart.
Just looking at these two, I can only think about how perfect they would be as parents.
They agreed. They wanted children. I remember one and a half years ago, they were talking about trying for one. They were doing the do for one and a half years. Some time ago, they went to the doctor and they came back with supplements.
They wanted children. They tried so hard for children. They weren't rewarded for far too long.
And then they got a child.
There was something indubitably suspicious going on that night for dinner. I was told specifically to be down right as they called me as opposed to my usual routine of finishing off the bit of homework that I had momentum in already, simply because, "We're a family, we should spend time together!" Of course, the whole suspiciousness of this situation really had my mind going wild. I was thinking up crazy things, and eventually, I settled for the possibility that my sister was pregnant. Sure enough, at the dinner table, my sister radiating excitement, announced to everyone that the tests were positive.
There's a child coming!
My sister's husband, trying to maintain himself, just couldn't. His face grew the widest smile that I had ever seen from him. My mum as well, who's aged and becoming slow, was also unable to contain herself. Dad seemed to be overjoyed as well. He was just so happy to see not really his but may as well be little girl growing into a mother and being so overjoyed. I was sitting there simply processing how I would have to be an uncle at 16. Overwhelmed, but overjoyed.
There's no one I care for more than my sister. Her happiness is what keeps me going. Her sadness is what consumes me from inside.
The next few days, the atmosphere was the most convivial it has ever been. My dad, who's normally stressed from work, just couldn't stop smiling. I didn't show it, but I was super excited. I told all my close friends about it. I couldn't wait. My sister as well was talking about how excited she was, and how she couldn't for her little poppyseed to grow. The name "poppyseed" seemed to really resonate within us all, and we agreed that that would be the baby's nickname when he or she popped out. My sister, like your stereotypical pregnant mother, would just spend ages looking at her tummy, rubbing it and smiling.
I never really understood why mothers became so attached to their children when they were still no larger than the eye of a needle until my sister became pregnant. I never really understood why women found it so hard to abort their children or lose it early. The child wasn't actually alive, she never really got to bond with a living child. I found images of mothers holding their aborted children pretty disturbing if anything.
But just watching my sister's journey to getting a child, I understood why. I saw my sister's journey, all of it. I saw her trying her best every day to try and get this child she wanted so much. I heard her ramblings and fantasies about what she would do with her child, what she would name it and how she would raise it. That day she found out she was pregnant, you could tell that this day would possibly be the day that she cherishes so dearly for the rest of her life. Through her, I understood why there was such a strong connection. Right at that moment of conception, the child is yours, is a part of you. Even though you have never seen him or her, you've already shared so many moments with your child.
One night, my dad called me down, and I saw everyone sitting in the lounge room, with my sister on the phone. I really didn't know what was going on. I just sat there. I was there for a couple of minutes before I noticed my sister's eyes begin to redden. I couldn't watch this. I couldn't watch my sister cry. I just walked back upstairs nonchalantly, trying not to think about what she was about to hear. I didn't walk back to my room though, little curious me stayed upstairs and leaned over the balustrade of the stairs, just listening. The call ended. My sister sounded so quiet for a split second before she just completely broke down. Her baby wasn't growing. She was told that she should probably expect a miscarriage.
I shouldn't have stayed, I really shouldn't have. Her tears just pierced through me. All those fond memories, all those moments of overwhelming happiness were simply unwarranted. And I just sat in my room, tearing. I just sat there for two hours, not really wanting to do anything. My whole family was quiet. My sister's husband was trying to comfort my sister, but he really just couldn't find the motivation. My dad was desperately trying to spew out things that might help her.
"Don't worry, the baby is still young."
"You can get pregnant again."
"At least we know you can actually get pregnant."
I begun the painful process of telling everyone I told about the baby that there wasn't going to be a baby. Every single time I had to type out the words, "My sister's baby isn't happening," I would just hear the sound of my sister bawling her eyes out like a small child, and every organ and muscle in my heart and stomach would feel like it was just cramping up. I can't thank my friends enough, every single one I told did everything they could to make sure I was all right, but I just couldn't help but feel guilty. My sister was suffering the most out of everyone. She was the one that needed all this comforting, not me.
This was a week ago.
My sister still trudged out to work the next day. She didn't tell her boss she was pregnant, and she certainly didn't want them to know about her situation now. She was still fighting back tears in the morning. I could tell she could just feel someone spectre beating the tears out of her, and she was just trying so hard not to. She came to me in silence, hugged me, and I was on my way to school. I was depressed most of the school day. My aviation teacher seemed to sense this, and he kept on asking me if I was feeling well. I said I was. Everyone else in the aviation classroom knew that I was feeling awful inside, and they just looked at me sympathetically, but they said no words. Towards the end, I was chirpy old me again. Just being around my friends really did make me feel better. My sister came back from work and she seemed to be doing well for the situation.
A few days later, my sister came back gleaming. She was told that there was a potentially wrong reading, and that there's a chance that there was still a baby growing inside her. I could tell that she was so hopeful for this. She wanted a baby, and the baby she tried so hard for and then lost could potentially be found again. I was feeling the excitement as well. I thought I used up all my tears up for the initial announcement, so whatever the results of this second test, I would be fine. There would be a scan coming up to check if the baby had grown at all.
Well, the scan was today. My sister doesn't work Mondays, so she usually picks me up from school. Her husband took the day off too for the scan. My sister is stressed, but I can tell that she's determined. She is going to get this baby back, I can just see it in her eyes. I can feel her excitement. I know it, all that tragedy will be for nothing. I was so looking forward to my sister coming out of that scan with a huge smile on her face. She walks in with her husband as I wait in the waiting room, and she turns around to give me a smile before she walks in.
She comes out with tears in her eyes. Again.
The car trip back home was deathly silent. No one really wanted to say anything. Turns out I was right, I really did use up all my tears last time. I just felt numb. I could hear my sister sniffling up front and she was looking out the window. Her husband hugged her before we got in the car, but he was silent too. You know, I thought my sister was coping pretty well. She wasn't actually bawling her eyes out again like I thought she would. She was getting stronger.
As we got home and walking out of the driveway to the familiar front door, she looked at me and said:
"The baby didn't grow. There is no baby. I wish there never was a baby."
And then she ran up to her room and proceeded to bawl her eyes out while videos about 'How to cope with pregnancy loss' could be heard.
I thought I was strong. I though I got over it. But no. It all came back to me. I followed her steps and went into my room to just spend some time alone again. And here I am, typing this.
She tried way too hard. She wanted this way too much. Yet, nothing. This is it. All she has is a dead sesame seed inside of her. It's never going to grow again. All the memories my sister shared with it, the whole journey getting it. Nothing. It sucks.
I'm so lucky to have such great friends. They all seem to know how sentimental I am, and they all did their best to comfort me, and I feel great now. The calm after the storm. But my sister is feeling awful right now. She needs the support, but I can't help her at this moment. It really ****ing sucks.
I can't do anything to help my sister. She just wants to be alone. All I can do is just give her the biggest brotherly hug I can give her when she comes out. We were going to have a baby, and now there isn't one.
I love my sister so much, she's a part of me. It hurts that I can't help her. She is a part of me.
Her sadness is what consumes me from inside.
But her happiness is what keeps me going.
I just want to her to be happy again.
My thoughts are with you and your sister. There are no words I can say that would ever make a difference to her current situation, but I hope that she doesn't give up and that you all will get through this.
Best,
jhoi
Thanks. I'm confident that she'll definitely want to try again after she gets over this.
Best,
jhoi
Woah... Sorry for your sister's lost. But don't fret! There will be the time that she will have a baby, but the time isn't now. So chin up and face the day!
Thanks. I'm feeling a lot better. My sister still has some time to go though, but I'm confident she'll feel better soon.