*Three years into our marriage, there was still no pregnancy. After many attempts, it finally happened—but I miscarried. Later that same year, I became pregnant again, only to miscarry once more. Over the next two years, I experienced two more miscarriages. I was exhausted from hoping, only to have my hopes crushed each time. Beyond that, I was tired of crying.*
*My body felt empty and hollow, so I told my husband, "Let's take a break. If you need a child that much, please consider having one with another woman. I’ll understand."*
*He understood my pain, and we decided to use family planning. However, the method disrupted my body and menstrual cycle until I finally decided enough was enough. I stopped using it and consulted a doctor. He asked us to meet him in two weeks since he was out of town. When he returned, we went to see him. He advised against stopping family planning, but I was determined to give my body—and my heart—a break.*
*Days later, during another appointment, he requested a test. I took it and discovered I was pregnant again. I was shattered and scared. "What if...?" I began to say, but my husband gently interrupted, "What if it works out this time?"*
*That baby is now on my lap as I write this. Fifteen months old and full of energy. She was completely unexpected, but she was the one who survived. We call her Miracle—a miracle that came just when I had given up. All the heartbreak, the physical pain, and the emptiness from countless tears have culminated in an unexpected joy that I now hold in my arms every day.*
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