five years ago...

I always felt when I was pregnant, that I really knew that child within me. I knew whether it was a boy or girl long before the doctor's told me and I knew I was pregnant because I could feel an extra 'presence' within me - their soul was so clearly sharing my space.

When I was pregnant with A, I was still in university and horrendously broke. I amused myself by sitting in the mall and people watching. One day I noticed a painting just outside a store. It was of a little Amish girl holding a chicken and I was mesmerized by it. I kept thinking it looked like one of my children. I used my credit card and bought it because I couldn't bear to be without it. The picture was named Emma but I felt very strongly that this baby inside me was not Emma.

So, I had A and Gabriel and then J and then finally, I felt like my Emma was coming. I named her before I knew she was a girl but we got confirmation eventually by ultrasound and sure enough my Emma looks eerily similar to the Emma in the picture.



And then along came M. Somewhat of a surprise as we were still discussing whether we'd have another but there was a pregnancy and another soul sharing my space. I contemplated this little soul carefully and decided it was a boy. We held off on finding out for sure by ultrasound but so confident was I that I named him Roman Blaine Richard.

It was five years ago that I arrived at the high risk clinic and the doctor sent me home to have my baby here. He felt my placenta was strong, the baby was strong and he released me from his care. I was terrified. What if something happened? What if this baby died inside of me just like Gabriel? All the old familiar fears that had paralyzed me in the pregnancies right after losing him were suddenly fresh and new again.

So I set about doing what I consider as one of the bravest things I've ever done. I came home and I waited for nature to kick in and deliver me my son. Every day and night I quietly prayed to God - let this baby come home, I need this baby to come home, please let this baby live. I talked to the baby squirming inside me - please, you have to come home, I need you to be born screaming, I need you to grow up and grow old, please, don't die.

Labour never came and the days crawled by. I was tired and fat and uncomfortable and terrified (along with my family doctor) that something would go wrong in these last days. Finally, after reaching my due date, my doctor agreed to induce me.

The birth story is a story unto itself and I'll reminisce about that eventually - but the big thing is...I was wrong. It wasn't a boy. It wasn't Roman. There lay my little girl and I was shocked and confused and taken aback. I had been so sure but I was completely wrong.

Who was this little being?

I had no idea what I was in for.