I've been absent. I don't know what to write. There has been an elephant in the room. I'm pregnant but I'm scared to write (talk) about it. I'm not superstitious just an old fashioned worrier. Being a worrier is in fact one of the many contradictions in my personality. I don't worry about hundreds of other things that lots of people do - BPA's, cancer from everything, numbers in my food, the latest scary research on X.Y & Z, kids falling, mysterious rashes, serious sounding coughs. I'm an 'it'll be alright kind of gal' in many many ways but when it comes to being pregnant I'm a nervous wreck.
I have every right to be - I have a very checkered history. My first son died in utero at 26 weeks and my beautiful boy Noah was born healthy but after a very tumultuous pregnancy with multiple scares along the way.
I know this pregnancy could be perfect - logic tells me this. My inner worrier lies awake at night thinking about what could happen. I have unexplained blood and autoimmune 'things' that nobody is really sure about. The Dr's are constantly guessing at what caused Banjo's death. In the end it could have been a one off freak of nature but they're not sure so we test everything and monitor everything just in case. It's a nightmare.
I wish for the innocence of those first 26 weeks of my first pregnancy. I was just swanning around without a care in the world. Ignorance really is bliss.
Today I had a scan. I have them scheduled every 2 weeks. My doctor is happy for me to go in earlier if I am feeling worried. This time I lasted 8 days.
Each time I see that little heart beating I am reassured - for a couple of days I am full of confidence then the niggling doubts creep in.
I wish I could enjoy the ride but I really just want a healthy baby in my arms to make our family complete.
It shouldn't be this hard.
From one worrier to another, let me say "I hear ya sister, loud and clear!". You're right, it shouldn't be this hard, but unfortunately, and as you already know, from now until that baby is in your arms (and even beyond) you will worry, worry, worry. You know my history better than anyone - I worried every second of every day about delivering a healthy baby, and then worried that all that worry was somehow affecting the baby. I would feel a sense of relief making it just one more week and was absolutely jumping out of my skin with excitement to make it to 32 weeks; the magic number where the chances of having a relatively healthy baby are really good. When I did have them, I was on speed dial to the paediatric neurologist at least once a week as I had complete paranoia that they were unwell. I, like you, just wanted that big man in the sky to whisper in my ear 'everything will be just perfect'. It was the frustration of knowing that that wasn't possible, and that I would have to live in that world of fear and worry every day until the babies were born...and nine months, or 40 weeks, or 280 days, or 6,720 hours is a hell of a long time....to finally feel a sense of relief from worry! It made me angry when people used to say 'everything will be just fine' as I thought they didn't truly believe the level of anguish every day of pregnancy brought with it. I wish I could tell you everything will be just perfect; I am sure it will be, but for some reason, you and me have to fight so much more for that precious end result. But just think, every second of worry is a second closer to holding that baby in your arms. It has been a long road for you, and it will continue to be a worry fest, but all this worry will make you appreciate, love and cherish that baby more. The most wonderful thing about worrying is that it makes you keep busy - super, uber, unimaginably busy, and the next few months will fly by in a blur. The time will arrive when that the baby is in your arms before you know it, and all this worry will be but a distant memory! I love you and am thinking of you and I will pray for you and that little cheeky mini-Kirsty in your belly that is making you sick with worry. S xx
ReplyDeleteAll I have is a hug and to say, I hear you. xxxxx
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