I’ve been slack in not writing for a while. Which is hilarious in a way because I’ve been delaying these posts anyway so no-one would ever have known unless I told you. But I am telling you. I’ve been hiding.
I keep thinking I should write. I should spell out the magic of this pregnancy in week 4 with the boobs so sore I cried, week 5 with that one day I felt like I was on a boat and probably vomited a million times and all of the other tiny nuances of being up the duff.
But I didn’t.
Because mostly I am still just afraid. I live in a bubble of barely-bearable fear that one day I’ll go to the toilet and discover a bleed. Or even worse, I won’t. And that we’ll go to a scan at some point in the future and the ultrasound technician will have to tell me that my tiny human has stopped growing. It’s a gnawing fear that I know I should ignore, but it lives there in the pit of my stomach alongside the tiny blueberry-sized creature whom I love already.
The thing is, I am having a pretty darn easy pregnancy. Some slightly sore boobs, one day where I spewed and the occasional bit of feeling erky. And then these things will disappear for days at a time. These tiny clues that my body is changing and adapting go away, and I panic that a viable pregnancy will go away with them.
There is the double-edged sword in my life that is pregnancy forums and secret facebook pages. Because we haven’t (and won’t) announce for quite a while, there is a secret community of fellow secretly-knocked-up women who convene in facebook land and can complain together of our aches and pains, our plans and tests, our thoughts and fears. All of us are in the ‘pregnant but not publically pregnant’ phase together. It’s nice. And comforting mostly. Except of course, that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage.
It feels like every day, I log in and there is a post from someone else saying “Sorry Ladies, looks like I’ll be leaving the group…” and a short explanation of how/why they’ve realised that they aren’t going to carry a healthy baby this pregnancy. Every time, I cry. I realise how incredible the odds are. And like the cannons firing in the Hunger Games, I am both filled with sadness that someone is leaving our ranks and relief that I have made it another day.
Today I am 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Only 220 days to go 🙂
With love and the absence of cannon-fire,