They said it could not happen…

This goes back to when I was 18. My doctor would prescribe me medications after medications for my depression and anxiety. I was also in a very abusive relationship: mentally and physically. It reached a point where my boyfriend, whom I lived with, would beat me constantly. He went too far one day and kicked my stomach. He had his steel-toed boots on.

I did not realize the magnitude of this until much later. My womb and ovaries were damaged and I was told that my chances of conceiving was too. I was 18, and the thought of a child was far from my troubled mind at the time. I left him and recovered my mind and spirit. It was a painful journey, and many times I thought I would succumb to the darkness, but I persevered.

My body didn’t however, and this was going to be a life-long legacy of this relationship. I was not going to enjoy that special bond of motherhood because of one horrible choice I made. Luck found me in my early 30’s when I met a loving, strong man. He is my husband now. My rock; my light when all seems dark. He never gives up on me and my faults are nothing more than “cute” characteristics to him. He knew that children would not be in our future but accepted me nonetheless.

I worked in a kitchen as a chef, but had to quit due to some health complications. Even painful therapy and medications would not help. Then the medical specialists talked to me about the “injury”. They told me that I can never have a child. An appointment was made for a hysterectomy—to remove my womb. Any last shred of hope was fast disappearing.

But I missed the appointment. Let’s just leave it to another day as to whether I knowingly did it.

I clung to my religious faith, and believed that a divine miracle was in the cards for me. There is no way I would miss out on this most precious of experiences because someone uncaringly thought I would make a good kicking post. Life could not be that unfair.

And the miracle did indeed happen. My apparently useless womb still had one last fight in it. I got pregnant last year, in December. When the results came, I saw stars in my eyes. I had to pinch myself to snap out of this dream. Life suddenly changed, but there was a long journey ahead and challenges remained.

One of the gynecologist asked me if I wanted to follow through with the pregnancy. It was not possible to have this child, and even if born, it’s not going to be healthy. It was a very high risk pregnancy in their eyes.

I had already come this far, but now I had a tough decision to make, one that would affect this baby’s future and life. I kept praying and decided to go through with it. Fate would not have been so unfair again.

On August 25th, 2015, Zechariah was born. At 6.6 lbs., our miracle son was healthy. I continue to thank my faith and my husband. They both blessed me with the strength and determination to see this through. The nights can be long, and I do sometimes miss my free time. But I would not give this up for anything in the world.