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His Name Was Going To Be McKay

by Alex Daly

Date: Sun, 02 May 1999

For as long as I can remember, I never wanted to have children. I remember telling my parents not expect any grandchildren for me. I told them that that was my little sister's job.

All I wanted in life was simplicity. I just wanted a steady partner, a dog and a house. I knew I'd be a good mom if I ever became one but given a choice I didn't want to be one. That is, until I got pregnant.

The pregnancy came as a surprise for both my boyfriend and myself. We used protection every time so when my period didn't come, we figured it wasn't unusual. I'd been late before.

But just to be on the safe side, I buy the home pregnancy test. Positive. We go to the doctor to confirm. Positive. We were both unprepared for this but I knew my baby was a keeper. Loosing him was not an option. So I thought.

My little boy was supposed to be born on July 15 of this year. Instead, he came out too early. I was seventeen weeks on February 6 when I miscarried. My doctor told me it was rare for women to miscarry on their second trimester. I was one of the unfortunate one in so many hundred. The night before I miscarried, I felt a sharp pain in my navel area, like someone yanking my bellybutton from the inside. I paid no attention to it. I didn't worry. In hindsight, I now realize that my angel was saying goodbye to me.

I went to the rest room and saw pink on my underwear. The doctors and the pregnancy book I was reading said red is a cause for an alarm. Not pink. So again, I didn't worry. When I got home that night, I told my boyfriend. He insisted that I call the doctor but I did not until the next day.

Upon the nurse's insistence, I showed up at the ER for a check up, "just to make sure." The bright, sunny morning turned into a black, painful night. The sun hasn't shone since. My baby died that night and I along with him.

The doctors couldn't find his heartbeat and had to use a Doppler and an ultrasound machine in order to determine if he was ok. I still wasn't worried. My regular doctor has had problem finding the baby's heartbeat before. I didn't feel this was unusual.

Panic didn't set in until the ER doctor said, "it doesn't look good." She said it doesn't look like there's a heartbeat but more tests would be done to me to know for sure. It wasn't necessary. My baby came out about an hour after she said that.

My boyfriend and I buried our little boy a month after he died. Only he and I attended the funeral. Neither my family nor my friends knew we buried him. I preferred it that way. I didn't want any tears shed for me. I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. No one in my circle of friends or any members of my family has gone through what I have. They simply can not relate. They simply can not fathom the pain I feel. Nothing they can say will ease my sorrow so I'd rather them not mention it.

So nobody asks and nobody brings up the topic. My boyfriend has been great about warning others not to mention the subject to me or when I'm around. And it's great that people have responded respectfully.

I still marvel at the irony of this whole situation. I never wanted a child but when I was given the chance, I fell in love with my boy.

I had so many plans for us. His name was going to be McKay. We going to take walks together. We were going to discover new places together. He was going to be my little helper in the garden. We were going to go to Disneyland for a family trip when he turned one but little did I know I wasn't going to see him alive.

I reveled at the thought of becoming a soccer mom. I even bought the car for it. Now it's for sale. I was going to join the PTA, after school programs and volunteer my time in the community and his school. I so much wanted to be a part of his life that...

I still don't understand why we were never given a shot at it. I was so excited I assumed he was going to be around for a long time. It was presumptuous of me to think that I was going to die before him.

I started a savings account for him as soon as I knew I was pregnant. It was supposed to go to his college education, not his burial.

I feel completely and truly cheated. I'm angry. I want to scream but can't find the energy. I want to join him but... Our time was cut so short. He and I were never even given an opportunity.

All I can do now is cry. I visit him almost every day. That's where I talk to him. I bring him flowers, toys and upkeep his area. I don't share my thoughts and feelings with anyone close to me. They simply will not be able to understand. What I plan for nowadays is what flower I'm going to buy for him, what statuary I will choose and what plant I will add to his makeshift garden in the cemetery.

I don't plan on ever getting pregnant again. I would've loved to be a mother but that chance I will never allow again. I only want to be a mother to my son. It pains me to say that but I never want to through this again. Plus, I feel like I'm trying to replace my son.

Anyway, I've got a newborn niece to enjoy. I was one of three women due to give birth this year. I was supposed to be the last one. Instead, I became the first and the only one to be without a child. Yeah, I hate the situation I've been put in but I have no choice.

As my sister count the years, I'll be counting with her. As she celebrates her daughter's birthdays, I'll be mourning my son's.

I should laugh at irony but instead I cry.

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