Photo: Courtesy of Heather Hamilton
Here?s the first kind of mom I was: a nervous?but thrilled?first-timer. When my oldest son, Ty, was born with the help of IVF 14 years ago, I worried about everything, as you do with your first, but I was so, so happy to be a mom. I couldn?t get enough of him. We travelled to the Caribbean, we rented a cottage and we took him everywhere, singing him songs all the time.
Then I got pregnant with my twin boys four years later and, again, I was utterly delighted, and again I was worried. We had undergone in vitro fertilization again, which adds a heightened anxiety to any pregnancy: I wanted these babies so desperately, and we had cleared out our savings to conceive them. If something went wrong, trying again just wasn?t an option.
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Meet Jude, my two-year-old who died from the flu Jayden was born gorgeous and healthy. Moments later, they placed Zack on my chest and I saw his face for the first time, so different from his brother?s. With my feet still in stirrups, the doctor started using phrases like ?dysmorphic facial features.? Then my baby started to turn blue and they whisked him away. My abstract worries became true fear, and I instantly became a different type of mom: one of a child with special needs. Zack ...