Almost five years ago, on October 28, 2009, I wrote a note on my Facebook page that ultimately began this blog. This date sears my heart as I read it. All I have been through in less than five years: the struggles to get pregnant, miscarriage, failed IVF, two children, CHD diagnoses, open-heart surgeries, and the death of my baby boy. We are 11 days away from what would have been his first birthday--the same day that will begin year six of our journey: October 29, 2014.
These past five years have altered my life, and me, in ways I had never imagined. Back when we started, I honestly believed that just fighting to become pregnant would be the hardest thing I would ever have to face. Instead, it's moving forward as a family of three after having been a family of four. I am physically and emotionally exhausted. I was not prepared for this journey. I have been lucky for the support of friends, family, and my spouse. I know that each one of these challenges has tested and destroyed other marriages. That mine has survived all of them is something of a miracle, for which I am eternally grateful.
Speaking of miracles, we have been asked whether we believe in miracles and why we think Patrick didn't get one. Here's the thing. God did not look down and say, "Oh, it's the Hobsons, this can't happen to them, we'll fix it right away." That's not how it works. God does miracles in His own time for His own purpose, not on demand. And the truth is, we had tons of miracles already. Two successful rounds of IVF--miracle! Our daughter's health in spite of her serious CHD diagnosis and open-heart surgery--miracle! Patrick's birth--miracle! The surgeon's ability to unifocalize Patrick's pulmonary arteries without a patch during the first surgery--miracle! Ten months with the most adorable, cuddly, smiling boy--miracle! That Patrick died is not evidence of a lack of God's presence or the lack of miracles. It is not evidence that we did not believe hard enough, or that we sinned somehow. It is not evidence of failure or inadequacy. Patrick's death is proof of life. To paraphrase Braveheart: Everyone dies; the task before us is to truly live.
I am still figuring out how to do that. I am coping with survivor's guilt. There are so many things we are going to be able to do now that we couldn't do if Patrick had lived--like my return to work. But it's important that I find a way to move forward; to make my life meaningful. Because maybe, just maybe, Patrick did me a great honor. Maybe he sacrificed his time here so that I would not have to give up my career to become a full-time caretaker for him, so that we wouldn't have to split up the family, or potentially destroy the family we worked so hard to create. Figuring out whether this is true is not important. What is important is to figure out how to live authentically and honor Patrick's life as best I can with mine.
Which brings me back to my hysterectomy. I am now wholly and completely infertile. There will be no more children. That part of my life is irrevocably over. But I am not sad. I am completely at peace. Not only am I finally free of the physical pain and suffering my conditions caused me, I am free of worry, free of monthly reminders, free to take all of the energy that has been tied up in these other things and channel it into--or birth--something new. Maybe a new me. Maybe finally start to turn all of this into a book. I am using this recovery time to try and figure it out. What I do know is that I am excited to find myself pregnant again--not with child, but with possibilities. And, as sad as I am, and will continue to be, about the loss of my baby boy, I can be excited about what is ahead; excited to move forward in this new phase of life; excited to figure out how best to honor Patrick's memory.
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