Guilt

A guest post by my wife. 

I’ve been trying to write this post for over two months. 

I don’t think there is an end to the amount of guilt I feel. My guilt starts shortly after we found out we were having twins and continues to this day. I confess I’m human and when I found out we were expecting twins my reaction was not one of joy. It was a reaction of what the hell do we do now?!

You may think my reaction is bizzare considering the heartache we’d been through trying to conceive. But I felt sure there could only be one baby. How would I ever manage with two?

It took a few more weeks and a couple of extra scans before I felt I was able to connect to these two growing beans. I even started to get excited for my 20 week scan when we had decided to find out what we would be having. 

We were told to expect two little girls, I’d never seen my husband so relieved. Shortly afterwards we were informed that my cervix was opening and that in all likelihood these two little beings, that I’d finally started to love and accept, weren’t going to survive. 

My body was failing them, I was failing them. They were doing everything right, but it didn’t matter. I don’t think I’ve ever hated my body more. 

I was put on bed rest and everyday I’d write them a letter and count down the days to that mystical 24 weeks. After a week at home I was taken into hospital. Barely 12 days after being admitted to my initial hospital I gave birth 100 miles from home in Bolton. 

I didn’t tell many people what was happening, partially because I couldn’t manage other people’s feelings or their need for news. Partially due to a sense of shame. 

Since their birth I cannot look at a pregnant woman in the same way again. I feel incredibly jealous, how come they can manage it? Why couldn’t I protect my girls? I get angry that I did everything I was supposed to and it still didn’t matter. When a friend announced her pregnancy recently I felt terrified. Do you think as many people would have kids if they knew just how wrong it could go?

Everything the girls have been through and are still going through is due to the fact that my body couldn’t keep up it’s end of the bargain. I couldn’t keep them safe. The months of mechanical ventilation, every cannula attempt, blood transfusion, every single time they needed suction, the heart surgery, the chronic lung disease, the pain and morphine addiction; all because of me. 

I know that logically there was nothing I could do, that I didn’t actively choose this outcome. But it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. The best I can hope for is that both my girls come home and I do as much excellent mommying as I can to try and make up for their horrific start in life. Then maybe as time goes on I’ll come to terms with my guilt.