Part of me expects that nobody else, other than me, will ever get to read this blog post – although I hope that won’t be the case. I’m pregnant. And, as much as I wanted this, and I really did want this – I’m not overjoyed or excited… I’m bloody petrified. You see, this is my fourth pregnancy and thus far my success rate for a healthy full-term pregnancy is 33%. Doesn’t sound a lot, does it? But the numbers don’t mean anything, not really. Either I’ll lose this baby or I won’t. I’m trying to be optimistic but I’m finding it incredibly hard.
At the time of writing this, I am 5 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I count the days because every day counts. Every day closer to meeting my baby matters to me. Every day I get to stay pregnant, I’m thankful – to whom, I’m not entirely sure, just thankful.
There’s been a spate of pregnancy announcements in ‘real life’ and in the blogging community over the last week or so. I thought it would be easier to be happier for people, knowing that I’m pregnant myself. But I’m still jealous – I’m jealous that they know their baby is growing well and that everything is as it should be. I’m jealous that they’ve got to see their wriggly bean in black and white, that they’ve looked into their husband’s eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. That’s a moment I’ve been dreaming of. (My own husband’s eyes though, obviously!)
I’m envious of the fact that they, having reached 12 weeks, can shout their news from the rooftops (often in beautiful and elaborate ways). Right now, I cannot even comprehend getting that far. My mind daren’t let itself think about ways of announcing my pregnancy. I can only think about today, I can only hope I’m still pregnant at the end of it. And then the same process will start again tomorrow. I’m just taking it one day at a time.
Of course, I know that all of these newly-announced pregnant ladies would’ve no doubt dealt with their own fears, anxieties and struggles over the last 3 months. The first trimester is a scary time, no matter what you have or haven’t been through previously. It’s such a shame that, as a society, we feel forced to keep quiet about what is often the hardest part of pregnancy.
The good news is, I’ve stopped peeing on pregnancy tests now, which is progress. I’ve peed on an embarrassing quantity of pregnancy tests since I got that first positive in order to check that “Yep… I’m still pregnant.” However, the sore boobs and sheer exhaustion I’ve been experiencing is now enough to reassure me that somethin’ be going on in there. That said, I do check for blood every single time I go to the toilet. And I do worry myself sick that I haven’t been sick. I was so, so poorly when I was pregnant with Jasmine. Why am I not puking already?!
I’ll probably regret having a desire for morning sickness in a week or two. Here’s hoping!
Next week is going to be especially tough, both of my previous miscarriages were in my sixth week of pregnancy so I’ll no doubt be on ‘high alert’. But it’s also going to be Jasmine’s second birthday and then we’re off on our first holiday abroad as a family so there’s also a lot to look forward too. I’m determined to enjoy it all.
For now, I’ll keep wishing, hoping and being thankful, one day at a time.
Stay sticky, little bean. xx
This post was originally written on the 30th March 2016.
I wasn’t sure whether or not to publish this post publicly as, reading it back now, it seems very negative. But that’s how I felt at the time and I want to be honest with myself and my readers about pregnancy after a loss.
To see more posts from My Pregnancy Journal click here.