In the back drop of last week was this thing. It’s a thing that has me worrying, fretting, freaking out. I have watched 7 bad action movies in the last 3 days and knit compulsively while trying hard not to think about the thing. Every time I did think about the thing, it hurt to breathe.
The thing started simply-with an email, would I be willing to talk to the media about pre-eclampsia and some new research? I thought maybe some local media. And then we moved it up so the eastern media could come. Then CBC wanted to interview me at home.
I’ve done media before, for local issues. I have never talked about Gabriel on TV. (Excuse me, I am getting that “it hurts to breath” feeling again.) Yesterday was the first interview (at home) and then there’s a press conference today at 1:00 PM MST.
Yesterday I talked about what happened, the first time I heard the words “pre-eclampsia.” I talked about Gabe and how he died and how I lived. I said I hoped that the new research means that someone else won’t die. Maybe this means that there will be life, maybe this means that we are a few steps closer to the cure.
When it hurt to breathe, I thought about seeing my son on the ultrasound machine, and I thought about holding him in my arms as he died, and I thought about sitting on my kitchen floor and sobbing, unable to believe I could ever live with this pain. I thought about the times when I was convinced that it would have been easier if both Gabe and I had died, because I didn’t know how I could live with without my baby.
I thought about the friends who couldn’t see past their lives and into our pain, and the people who weren’t friends but became friends in tragedy. I thought about all of you, and I thought about my husband and how this disease almost took me away from him and I took a deep breath, and I started talking.
Today, tomorrow and yesterday I can stand up, I can say that babies die, they die for ridiculous reasons, because we don’t have a cure for this terrible disease, and we should. Women and their babies still die, they die every 5 minutes. Over and over and over they die. And when I got that funny “I can’t breath” feeling in the interview, when I get it as I type this with a camera filming me, (because I talked about blogging and baby death and now all of you are being filmed too), I thought about the 18 women who died during the 90 minutes of filming. You can’t tell your story when you’re dead.
All I have are my words. I am rubbish as a researcher – I’m just a story teller. So, for the sake of the research, to get someone else the help they need and to remind others that we are still dying, our babies are still dying and we can cure toe nail fungus and not the 5th leading cause of perinatal mortality, I can use my words.