Is it Karma?

To all of our friends,

We thank you again for your kind and supportive words. As you have in the past, you allow us to stand up a little quicker, smile a little sooner, and look forward a little faster.

Ken's follow up scan was done Saturday. Along with the hygroma, he had several other complications, and sadly, no heartbeat. We can only hope that he is in a much better place now.

As most of you know, Ken was one of three miracles due to arrive come spring. We feel incredibly fortunate that along with the loss of Ken, we have not completely lost this very last opportunity to become parents. Nevertheless, I have packed away my first purchase-- a wonderful book called "The Night You Were Born," I have ceased my online baby gear browsing, and I have decided that I will no longer attend my very first "Moms of Multiples" meeting this week.

Sadly, along with losing Ken, I have lost that confidence that I will become a mom this spring.

I feel foolish for thinking that we had finally escaped our black cloud, that surpassing our first trimester meant we were "safe," that we had endured enough loss, enough grief, enough hurt, that lightening couldn't possibly strike again. I have returned to sleeping with my phone, to checking my email at all hours of the night, to fretting over our next scan... even though it is still a long three weeks away. 

Not surprisingly, we didn't do anything we had planned for the weekend. Instead, we just did "sad." Having gone through this far too many times, we still have not figured out an easy or a right way to do it. A lot of tears, a lot of anger, no one to blame...

As we sat in bed at 5:00 p.m. Saturday night, not really sure how to function, we came across a documentary called The Sounds of Mumbai. We tuned in, as seeing the people and the sights of India elicited a few longed for smiles.

The documentary is about a group of slum children who are asked to sing with the Bombay Chamber Orchestra. Ashish, a boy of eleven, is given a solo part. Both him and his family see it as their opportunity to escape generations of poverty, their "golden ticket" out of the slums.

Ashish struggles with the immense pressure placed on him, however, his determination is admirable; I find myself cheering for him as he nails his solo on the night of the performance. Shortly after, I find myself crying along with him, as he realizes that aside from compliments, none of the rich attendees have offered him money, a chance to become educated, an opportunity for a new life... none of the rewards he was certain would flow from all of his hard work.

When asked to reconcile the perplexing disparity in wealth amongst the Indian people, a wealthy Indian woman comments that perhaps it is karma. She suggests that perhaps, these slum children, they have done something in their former life that has caused these circumstances, and regardless of how unfair, how unjust, how inexplicable it may seem, it is simply their lot in life... and it is something that cannot be changed.

It makes me wonder. Can we change the direction of this seemingly endless road of sadness? Will all of our hard work, our determination, our perseverance pay off? Surely it cannot be our lot in life to remain childless. Surely we CAN change the future.Though we have lost Ken, we are blessed to have two remaining rays of hope. Please let us hold them in our arms come spring.

Please let us become the parents I know we were meant to be.