To be honest i'm not really sure why i'm writing this but here goes!
I lost a litle boy at 21 weeks, nearly 4 years ago. We called him Max. He would have been our 3rd child. My waters broke at 18 weeks - completely gone and despite trying a rare technique called amnio infusion (putting water back in basically)there was a big hole in the sac and it all came back out. At this point we chose to end the pregnancy - his lungs would never have developed without fluid and had i managed to carry the baby to a viable point in all likelihood he would not have survived. We chose this route after much consideration - for us, for our other children but most of all for him. I am considered a very strong person, which i probably am. The first year was awful, i think i cried every day - but it has got easier. However it has really come back to haunt me recently - a combination of reasons i suppose. He would have started school this year - a proper little boy, a real milestone. Also last year i gave birth to a beautiful little girl - but the pregnancy was traumatic, in hospital from 22 weeks with bleeding and i thought we would go through it all again. She was born at 27 weeks and despite her tough start is doing really well. We are truly blessed to have her but she does not replace her brother.
Anyway this is long and convoluted - i suppose the thing is i never get to talk about Max - he is never referred to, sometimes there are vague references to 'that awful time'(don't get me wrong, my family are fantastic - i just don't think they ever want to upset me, and vice versa). So i don't really want/need any replies - just wanted to write about him. Thanks for listening!