Guest Post #2 – Fern Chasida Rabinovitz

Guest Post #2 – Fern Chasida Rabinovitz

Thank you to Fern for sharing her story in honor of Miscarriage and Infant Loss Awareness Month. If you would like to submit a piece please email cari@twentysixandfour.com.  

Fern Chasida Rabinovitz, aged 51, originally from New York and living in Israel since 1988. Wife, mother, friend, reader, librarian. 

I’ve been pregnant ten times, but who’s counting. Just me, I guess.

My first daughter was born by emergency C-section very small for date (1.215kg) at 37 weeks with some health problems which kept her in the NICU for three months and although her health was stable for years she died unexpectedly a month before her 14th birthday.

After she was born I had five first trimester miscarriages. Some so early we never saw a heartbeat, some at a stage we were positive we were out of the woods. Some I just started bleeding, some an ultrasound showed no heartbeat when a week before it was beating away. Most required a D&C, one happened totally naturally, and one required hospitalization for intravenous antibiotics after I started running a fever. All were heartbreaking and devastating. Most I suffered alone. Crying at night (and during the day) into my pillow. It was so hard to open up, to share what I was going through. In the days before the internet, support was hard to find. Everyone around me was having babies so easily. A woman who had her first a year after my daughter was born had her fourth before I had my second. But who’s counting?

Almost six years after giving birth, following medical intervention and a two and a half month hospitalization, my second daughter was born at 35 weeks, also small (1.415kg) but healthy.  Her NICU stay was only a month and when she came home, I finally felt like I had my family. My community includes many large families and as an only child I always wanted many children. So when my daughter was a bit older, and though my husband was adamantly opposed, I desperately tried for a third child.

Two more first trimester miscarriages followed and then with medical intervention, the next pregnancy held. For a bit. At 24 weeks I started bleeding. After a brief hospital stay I was sent home. And soon I was back, bleeding again. At 26 weeks my son was born, 500 grams, another emergency C-section. Nobody minced words. The chances were so slim. After six days in the NICU he died. And though there are women who don’t start having children by the age of 35, my childbearing years were finally over.

To say I was shattered would be an understatement. I could barely get out of bed in the morning, my marriage was a shambles, and my two daughters just wanted reassurance that life would go on as usual. With the help of a therapist, I managed to survive. I honestly believe that she saved my life.

I’m now 51 years old. I rarely talk about my pregnancy losses. And when I do, it’s just outlines, hints, and bare bones. Not the full story. I don’t want to scare younger women who are still in their childbearing years. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I find it hard to open up. And although time has certainly helped, it’s still too painful. The lost dreams of a big family, the wondering if today’s medical advances would have helped me have successful pregnancies, the lingering anger and bitterness which I try not to let surface.

I’m glad there are support groups today. I’m glad women share more and reach out. And I’m glad for the opportunity to share my story.

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