Little Gem

It was interesting reading about myself in my medical history stuff with the lawyer.

Reading about the actual fear of repeating it again.

The risks were so much higher now.
There was just to much scarring to much damage for anything else.

Yet it was the one time I knew for certain there were no more and the one time I truly remember baby fever.

There were three and that was enough. I was good with that, really good with that. We all were. Accept the kids, but that's another tale in and of itself.

If Faith precedes the miracle, there's was the faith.

Three years. The pain started the spring after Q was born. And it got steadily worse over time.

Tests, specialists, all concluded surgery was final option. That was April. May was car accident. Things did get worse then a bit better. I was sure there was something off by end of June. Again no one listened to me. All in my head. Causing psychological trauma. Physically improbable if not impossible now.

I asked for new BC. Legally have to do pregnancy test. This time 22 weeks. No one listens to me.

I've heard conversations where someone said it would be easier to deal with something if they knew it was coming. They have clearly not experienced the knowing to say such a thing. Knowing doesn't necessarily make it easier, just longer to think and maybe prepare, or over think.

I knew this was going to be more difficult than anything else, and that I was going to experience pain unlike anything I had ever felt before. It would be beyond difficult. I knew it was coming, I knew the actual date, Christmas Day. I knew it was unavoidable. I was tired alot. The pain was a constant thing. I knew it was nothing compared to what would come. We were both healthy that was the main thing. I just wanted that day to be as normal and exciting for them as possible.

We did the party thing. That day was oddly calm and tranquil compared to the month prior. Then that hour came and something happened. I could feel the change. It was bad. Worse than I had imagined. I could feel it, feel what it was doing inside, to him. Had to get to the hospital.

I spent that week between holidays screaming and crying. Being drugged with one thing after another and none of it having any effect. Emergency MRI - very cool baby pictures by the way. Everything and anything to try and figure it out and make it stop. It was a very long week. Eventually it was sorted out enough for me to leave hospital. Knowing the delivery was going to be complicated. Somehow we both made it through next two months. Keeping him long enough to finish cooking.

Delivery was not good. Emergency Epidural, to stop seizure and spasms so contractions could do their job. Heart rate and blood pressure came back up. She arrived just fine. Yes she, who we thought was a he was a she. I was stunned again. How could be wrong about that? Even ultrasound showed that.

She was perfect. My heart's song.

Had no clue what to name her. She left being registered as baby.

I felt amazing after she arrived. All the pain and trauma calmed nearly immediately. For the first time in months I was good, happy and I could sleep. So I did.

Daddy stayed up with all night that first night, just watching.

He thought she was a jewel, a perfect gem. My Emma. Emmie wasn't pretty enough for her though. Jewel is not a child's name. So he took the letters JEMM and created her name.

Julie (my grandmother's sister name, one of my very favorites) Elsa (grosmuti's name, who she never met) Marie (legacy of me, my mother and my grandmother given to my daughter)

Daddy's little JEMM.

Of all of them, I see myself in her the most.

In how she looks, acts, behaves, personality, smile, her hugs.

The way she talks about her people.

She and I have been through alot together.

I already know her the best, even if we havnen't had much time to get to know one another.

My perfect jewel.

Mi Julita.