If only ...

When I got pregnant with Freyja it was an enormous shock. Really, that's what it was at the time - a shock. I was a heavy smoker and drinker and when I looked at that stick I really didn't believe that the two lines meant I was pregnant. My husband looked at the stick and told me what it meant. My reaction was to go out on the balcony (we lived in West Melbourne in an apartment at the time) and smoke several cigarettes and open a new bottle of wine. I peed on two more sticks and went visiting the GP to confirm my shocking discovery.

You see, Craig and I had only just been engaged for a few months and we weren't supposed to have any babies!

Craig suffered from testicular cancer when he was 29. He had radiation therapy and, although he recovered from his cancer, tests every two years for four years after the treatment confirmed that he could not father any children. His doctor had already warned him of this danger before he had the treatment and so he had sperm on ice ... just in case.

We had known each other for a long time before we got together, so I knew he had had cancer, and I wasn't concerned about not being able to have any children. Just a month or so before the shocking discovery we had had the discussion about IVF. We were both 37 and so if we were going to have any kids, time was a-wasting. I did the research and decided that I really didn't want to go through all that. I had never had any great desire to have children myself. I enjoyed being an aunt (my two younger sisters have 7 children between them), but I had my career and now that I had Craig that was enough for me.

So we'd discussed our options, discussed them with our GP (who recommended that Craig have his sperm tested "just in case") but we were happy to leave things as they were.

But then the shock came. And I was freaked. So was Craig. This wasn't supposed to happen.

I told my family and Craig told his and they were all over the moon. (Everyone knew about Craig's cancer and were therefore terribly excited for us.)

And something happened to me ... I fell in love with the baby inside me. I fell in love with the idea of being a mum. I fell in love with the thought of a baby girl. When the ultra-sound confirmed we were having a little girl, we knew immediately that Freyja would be her name. Even Craig got over the horrific shock ... he'd spent 8 years believing that he couldn't and wouldn't father any children.

But then the worst happened of course. Freyja died. For no apparent reason. We were devastated. And I was left with the overwhelming desire to be a mum and to have a baby.

I missed my baby incredibly much. During my pregnancy I had been very aware that things could go horribly wrong ... a friend had lost her baby at 36 weeks because of a detached placenta. So I had not spent 28 weeks dreaming of perfection ... rather I had spent 28 weeks in fear. I remember so clearly being relieved when I got to 28 weeks because that's when a baby's chance of survival is abut 90%. But then of course my Freyja died.

So there I was ... a mum without her baby. A woman with an overwhelming desire to hold her baby and actively parent a child. In that 6 month period of my pregnancy I had gone from being an ambitious career woman to being a mum lost without her baby.

I wanted another baby immediately ... or actually I wanted my Freyja, but hadn't realised yet I couldn't have her.

It took me 7 months to convince my husband that we should have another baby and a further three months to conceive. And then we spent 37 weeks in terror waiting for our second baby. And we cried tears of joy and relief when he was finally born ... a healthy 3.5 kg boy. Nothing wrong there! But then of course everything went wrong again ... he suddenly died and the autopsy showed that he had a cold or flu virus which attacked his heart instead of his lungs. If only the virus had attacked his lungs ... he might have ended up in hospital with serious complications, but he probably wouldn't have died. If only ...

We waited 6 anxious months for the autopsy results. Then I managed to convince my husband that we should try to conceive another baby. Nine months after Kees' death I conceived our third child.

So here I am. A 40 year old woman. About 30 kg overweight (from the weight I was when I got married three years ago). Recovering (to the extent possible) from two terrible losses. Now working part-time because I can't cope with full-time any more. Nearly twenty weeks pregnant with her third child. But pretending that I'm not ... after all, I don't want to get attached to another baby only to have to bury another one. And this is the last one ... if this pregnancy doesn't result in a healthy living baby, I don't think I can cope any more. One thing is for sure, Craig won't let me have any more pregnancies ... he's worried that the woman he married will disappear altogether (not an unreasonable fear given how I am now).

Sometimes I wish that I could go back in time. I wish that I could back to that appointment where our GP said to us that Craig should have his sperm tested again. If only we could. If only Craig had the test done and found out that his swimmers weren't inactive any more. If only we could sit down and make an informed decision about pregnancy. Who knows what would have happened then?

I wonder though ... would I now be a baby factory? Would I be pregnant with my third child after having buried my first two? Would I still be that confident, career driven, fun and self-assured woman I was then?

If only ...