Keeping it Real

Keeping it Real

Back in the early days, the just post-potential-diagnosis-but-not-sure-but-there-is-an-AVSD days, I was pretty sad. I had a right to be, having just lost an Aunt I cared about very much (and didn't call much in her final years) and almost losing a very dear colleague in a horrific car crash. I was also super pregnant with twins, super heavy, slow, in pain almost constantly and had to wear "Batman" anti-embolism hose that took me no less than half an hour to sweat my way into each and every day (and a nerve wracking 5 minutes to gently fix every time I had to pee, which at that point was eleventy-zillion times a day). I was very sad when I was told about my unborn baby's diagnosis. As time went on, I was told I was sad as I was "grieving my perfect baby". Once they were here, once we knew about Wyatt's karyotype, once the twins were being kept alive in the NICU, I was told by a social worker and every piece of literature that I was handed that I was grieving...

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