The title may change. I wanted something funky and eye catching but I can't think, so it will do for now.
So, this is my journal. This is the first time I've ever done a journal so it will most likely be rubbish
First of, I will introduce myself to those who may be reading:
My name is Kirsten (Kirsty). I am 38 years old. I was born on St Patricks Day! My mum thinks this is the most excited thing in the world as her grandma was Irish.
I live in Wiltshire in England but I was born and raised in Somerset. Most of my famly still live in Somerset. My parents have been trying to sell there house for sometime, to move to a smaller property, and my husband and I want somewhere bigger (keep reading below for the reason why), so we came up with this plan that my parents will sell there house, we will sell ours, and we will all live together in Somerset. I have found THE most perfect house and I want it so very very much so we just need to sell our houses and hope that this one is still available then.
I met my husband in high school. We were in the same registration class. On our first day of high school, we had to sit boy-girl-boy-girl and in alphabetical order (did you follow that??) It just so happened that I had to sit next to him. I was also on the end of our row so I had nobody on my other side. We sat next to each other in registration for the next 5 years. For the first two years I did not like him one bit. He was the class idiot and all the popular girls fancied him. Something changed in Year 9 and we started talking more and became best friends which, during the summer between Year 10 and Year 11, developed into much much more... :eek:
We moved into our first house together in June 1994.
Our first baby, Amelia, was born in January 1999 followed by Laura in May 2000. Later that year, in September, Adam made an honest woman of me. Officially married, we decided on one more baby. Adam wanted a boy. He got his wish in March 2002 when Noah was born. In August 2003 and July 2005 we had two more babies- Lily and Bryce. Five was enough. We were done. Except we got pregnant with #6. At 12 weeks we discovered #7 was in there too. Identical girls, Hailey and Melissa, arrived in April 2007. To round up the family, we went for #8. We found out we were having a girl, named her Madison Ivy, and waited for her arrival. In August 2008 I went into labour and delivered....a boy. What??? After the shock wore off, we renamed him Alfie. As much as I loved Alfie, something was missing. I wanted my daughter. I wanted Madison Ivy. Shortly after Alfie was born, we discovered #9 was on the way. This time, we didnt find out the sex but secretly I was desperate for my Madison Ivy. Alfie was just ten months old when #9 was born in June 2009 (born one month early). It was a girl! I was so happy. But. The name Madison Ivy just didn't suit her. So we named her Daisy instead. We were soon pregnant with #10. Once again, at 12 weeks, we discovered a stowaway! Twins again!
This is where it starts going very, very wrong. I was due in July 2010 but my girls just couldn't wait. Charlotte & Heidi were born in May 2010 at 31 weeks. Heidi did remarkably well, and was allowed home at just 3 weeks old. Charlotte, on the other hand, was so fragile, so weak. She passed away two days after Heidi came home. I can't tell you how overwhelmed with grief I was, still am.
We had the shock of ours lives when, in August, we discovered that, yet again, we were having another baby, due in April 2011. Another small age-gap of just 11 months. Only a few days after discovering I was pregnant, I started bleeding. At 5w0d it was announced at the hospital that I was suffering a miscarriage. I must admit, I wasn't as shocked and upset as one would expect. I know this makes me sound like a truly awful person, but the timing wasn't right. We had just lost Charlotte. I couldn't cope with the children I had, how was I supposed to cope with one more?
A few weeks later, I was still feeling very sick and was incredibaly tired. It just wouldn't budge. Most people said it was grief. I knew it was more. I went back to the doctors and explained my symptoms. I was sent for a scan. There, on the screen, was a beautiful baby with a beautiful heart-beat. I was too far along for it to be another pregnancy. I demaned answers. The only explanation I got was I must have been pregnant with my THIRD set of twins and that I had lost one but the other was fine.
On November 5th at 17w3d I was walking down the stairs when I tripped and fell. I landed on my stomach. I felt fine but DH rushed me to hospital to check the baby was okay. They couldn't find a heartbeat so I was sent for a scan. At least 5 minutes passed before the lady turned to me, a grave look on her face. My daughter had died. I blamed myself. They said I would have to deliver as I was too far along for a D&C. I told them I wanted the baby out. Now. They asked if I wanted to go home and come back the next day but I just wanted her out. I hated myself for what happened and couldn't stand the thought of my dead baby inside me. Looking back, I was I had kept her with me longer.
I gave birth that same day. We named her Zoe. I don't remember much about those next few days but I do remmeber one thing. A doctor or nurse, I don't remember which, saying that my daughter was smaller than they expected for 17 weeks, and that it looked like she had died before then, around 15 weeks. I will never know for certain but I don't blame myself as much as I did to start with. I will never, ever, forget my angels.
So whilst I say I am mother of 13, I only have 10 of my babies with me now.