Am I an owner mother?
When death and the corner of the perinatal mourning occurred in the Hernani cemetery, I received the first blow. So I started thinking about where that lost child was. There I left him to take care of others. Why didn't I do something? Time goes fast and immersed in day to day is saved on the hard drive, on the back, if possible far behind. I recently heard of Auri Lizundia's new book in the Berria newspaper: Grieving mother. Read the interview, another paragraph. What I had stored behind that hard drive has come back. So I think I'm a mother who owns me. The wound is not complete. There are many unclarified questions and feelings. My defense has always been: our mother has experienced harder situations than me and our mother too. I too will move forward. What a fool. Maybe that's how we've been taught to women.
I bought the book and started reading it. I do not agree or do not agree with everything, and since I am so ordained, I have thought “I have to read the book and then give my opinion”. But no, I don't care whether or not I agree on some things. I don't care about having different experiences. It is important that I have been struck. And I've been driven by emotions and thoughts. The other day I read Xabier Amuriza and agree: “I think because I feel it and I feel it when I think it.” They both go together.
I was a mother at age 27 for the first time. A wonderful pregnancy. My illusion begins from the beginning. Kattalin. On the day of my birth, when I felt the first contractions, I took a shower, prepared the bag and prepared it in Basurto. When I got there, it was almost completely dilated. The treatment was very sweet. I was clear that I wanted to feel that birth and they didn't give me any trouble choosing the right posture. I read a leaflet that was given to me by a friend until I dived completely. Matilda. When he was fired with his hand, he went to the delivery room and left braust after a few nudges. They put him on top of me and cried with joy.
After an ultrasound, the child is dead. His name was Jokin. I couldn't believe. Can that happen? What have I done wrong?
I've experienced very sweet moments nursing my chest. Up to two years or. We both enjoyed, I think, myself at least. I wanted to become a mother again and I got pregnant easily. I predicted it again with joy. But I had a question. Could I want so much? Then I've seen that yes, which is, but I had that concern.
The gynecologist told me that he was very small, that he wouldn't make any progress. I didn't worry, go ahead with my illusion. I spent most of my pregnancy in the United States. In principle I had no problem, maybe I was small but not others. Back to Euskal Herria and all the same, good. At 15 days of birth, I went to Basurto to try the belt. Before I left I felt a different pain, I don't know if I had anything to do with it. When I was lying down, the nurses saw no heartbeat. They got anxious and called the gynecologist. After an ultrasound, the child is dead. His name was Jokin. I couldn't believe. Can that happen? What have I done wrong? Is it a pity? I lost my mother when I was 15, and I thought that the most holy calamity out there was suppressing for something.
So I felt what pain is again. The one that comes from the viscera. A. Fire that appears on the skin of the mold book in the abdomen of the mother. Smoker, suffering. Statistics are cold. There are several cases and it touched you. And that? It didn't reassure me.
I didn't want to go home. I wanted to take out the rest of my son. The treatment of the professionals was enormous. They gave me anesthesia and caused contractions. The pain didn't go away, there were no drugs that would make it go away. I still hear my words.
He went out and couldn't else. The midwife told me it was convenient to see the child to do better grief. I couldn't. Now I feel sorry. Another load.
Where is it?
Then I had two other children, Ane and Martin. Always with enthusiasm and a little fear.
Thank you to all the mothers who have helped me get here.
Eunate Guarrotxena Arzubiaga, mother
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