Empathy In The Impossible Choices

I am now five years on after having to make an impossible choice in my first pregnancy.

We ended up deciding to proceed with termination for medical reasons when I was 22 weeks pregnant.

My darling son Jacob had multiple medical issues as well as myself being at risk with recurrent placental abruptions. I am only now starting to unpack everything that has happened and getting professional help to work through it all.

I struggle with the guilt, and one exercise my psychologist has me do is try to find empathy for myself.

Below is what I came up with.

I hope it may help anyone out there, who is also struggling with the guilt of living without their baby, to be kinder to themselves and find empathy for their situation.

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I feel empathy for the woman who was going for her ultrasound and didn’t know what was about to happen.

I feel empathy for the woman who was laying on the ultrasound table and whose whole world fell apart.

I feel empathy for the woman who was put in the situation of being asked to decide whether she should continue with a pregnancy or to end it – even though there was nothing more she wanted than to take her baby home with her.

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I feel empathy for the woman who had to sit and listen to everyone’s opinion on what to do when nobody else could feel that baby move and kick.

I feel empathy for the woman who felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and there was no way out no way to save her baby.

I feel empathy for the woman who had to deliver her baby, who had long dreamed of the moment she would deliver her first child and how amazing that would be.

I feel empathy for her because that was not how it turned out.

I feel empathy for the woman who held her baby close to her chest, but the baby didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t open his eyes, and was cold. I feel her pain and her sadness I feel her longing for a miracle.

I feel empathy for the woman who had to hold her dead baby, who had to look at her child and see their whole future together slip away.

I feel empathy for the woman who didn’t know what to do, who was overwhelmed by the fact this baby she had loved so much is now dead.

I feel empathy for the woman who had to hand her baby over and walk away.

I feel empathy for the woman who was asked whether she wanted to bury or cremate her child when the answer was – she wanted to have her baby with her forever.

I feel empathy for the woman who wondered if there would ever be happiness in her heart again.

I feel empathy for the woman who has questioned her ability to be a mother.

I feel empathy for the woman who managed to get up and keep going even though all she wanted to do was hide under the covers and never come out.

I feel empathy for the woman who wondered if she would ever have a live baby.

I feel empathy for the woman who still doesn’t know how to heal her broken heart.

I feel empathy for the woman who feels like it’s all her fault, even though she did the best she could in a situation she never wanted to be in.

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I feel empathy for the woman who doesn’t know how to forgive herself for letting her baby go even though it was what had to be done.

I feel empathy for the woman who still feels lost and doesn’t know how to live her life without her first baby.

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Kate is a mother of 4. 3 children here and one who had to leave.