Child Loss | Grief
I am a Bereaved Mother
My child may have died, but my love — and my motherhood — never will.” — Dr. Joanne Cacciatore
“Mahal, she’s gone.” My husband’s voice trembled as he broke the agonizing news.
“Wala na siya, Mahal. Kasama na niya si God (She’s gone, love. She’s with God now).” He cupped my face and kissed my forehead, his dry and chapped lips signified the daunting breakdown he endured in the ICU.
I looked at him, and his face was streaked with tears. I dragged my body close to him, braving the sharp pain from my recent C-section surgery. That time, I didn’t care if my stitches rupture, and I bleed to death. In fact, I wished I really did die since the impaling agony was too much to bear.
I hugged him tightly as I could as tears welled up in my eyes.
He embraced me back, and from there, I knew our lives would never be the same ever again.
Nurses from the hallway heard our lament.
Some went inside our room to check if everything was okay.
Everything was not okay.
We were crying hard, and loud.
We didn’t care.
We let our emotions pour like a heavy rainstorm and thunder.
He lifted my head, and I stared blankly at his lifeless and grief-stricken eyes. We were trying our best to hold our sanity, but the pain was taking a toll on us.
We averted our eyes to the cradle beside my hospital bed.
It was empty.
From that moment, the weight of the entire world dawned upon our shoulders, and together, we sank in the torment of trauma.
It’s been a year and three months since our daughter went to heaven. Since then, we have lived our lives under a constant reign of misery.
Our daughter, our firstborn, we wanted her so much. And the fact that we lost her to Thanatophoric Dysplasia hurts us to the extreme.
Thanatophoric Dysplasia is a rare skeletal disorder that affects 1 out of 60,000 births in the world. A mutation in the FGFR3 gene causes it. This gene regulates the activity of a protein that guides the development of brain tissues and bone, making it overactive, leading to malformation and deformity. (Source: verywellhealth.com)
We were the very first case ever recorded in our region. I have so many questions about TD. However, the doctors we have consulted in our province remain clueless as to the origin of this disorder.
We couldn’t understand what happened and why it happened with us. I traced the probable cause that might lead to TD, and all I remember was having a healthy pregnancy — I consumed nutritious foods, vitamins, and milk. I also performed simple exercises to keep my body fit and active. As for my husband, he had a healthy lifestyle as well. So, where did we go wrong?
I tried looking for parents on Facebook who were in the same boat, and I found a Facebook group named Thanatophoric Dysplasia Support Group. There, I saw people from all parts of the world, asking questions, and sharing their stories about the disorder. They, too, were plagued with nightmares brought about by the suffering of losing a child from TD.
From my interaction with my fellow bereaved parents in the group, I learned that TD is a fluke. Anything you eat or do doesn’t contribute to its development. It’s a random genetic mutation that can happen to any expecting mother.
For some unfortunate reason, I was the chosen one in my league of 60,000 mothers last February 2019.
The day after losing my daughter was the toughest day I somehow endured. After we laid her to rest, I cannot believe I was still breathing.
I wanted to hug her so badly and tell her mommy loves her to the moon and back.
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and witness her grow up into a fine lady.
I wanted to give her the best of everything, even if it means life and death.
But when I saw her in her little coffin peacefully sleeping like an angel on earth, all my dreams were shattered, and I felt my heart plummet into my guts.
Today as I celebrate Mother’s Day 2020, my heart still burns for the one who is not here with us. No amount of material things nor memories here on earth will ever replace my firstborn in my core.
She will always have a special place in our lives.
My daughter, Yzla, may have gone too soon, but her memories will remain forever in my heart until I take my last breath here on earth.
I am a mother of an angel in heaven, and she is redeemed by God from above. She flies with the angels and plays on the clouds. No pain, no suffering.
In Memoriam of Yzla
You will forever be the sunshine in our hearts.
Zsanyla Cabansag is a ‘lady of feelings’ and a lover of serendipities. She writes about books, love, and dolce-far-niente. Read more of her works here:
