It turns out that I am not going crazy, and that in itself is jolly good news.
I went to the Doctor, thinking I was going on a journey of recovering from some form of mental illness, when lo and behold, it turns out I was pregnant!
A couple of times, I had wondered if perhaps, I was. But dismissed it straight away. We have only ever been able to have kids through IVF; weird, bi-cornate uterus and pathetic fallopian tubes are the culprit. The gazillion doctors we had seen on that particular roller coaster ride, all said the same thing…you will never conceive naturally. Never say never huh?
Seriously, I was dog tired ALL THE TIME, an emotional time-bomb with the shortest possible fuse, a sense of smell that would make a Perfumier wildly jealous, and in the few days before my appointment – constantly nauseous. And I kept thinking, nah, I cannot be pregnant… major case of head in the sand, or too good to be true-itis.
Anyway, it was a crazy, emotional, nervous, excited few days until I started bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. Number 4 was not meant to be.
I went for a scan, it was booked when I thought my little miracle was gonna happen and it would have been about 9 weeks, and the glimmer of hope I had harboured was squashed. Zip, nada, nothing.
I had no idea how much I had wanted to see that little coffee bean shape with the madly flickering heartbeat on that screen.
My head knew it was over before I went for the scan. My heart had no idea. I was crushed.
Another week has passed and I can honestly say I am OK with it. I will always miss what might have been, but cannot wait for the morning sickness to subside – that is just cruel. It is hard enough to cope with when you are growing a new life, but to suffer that, when that little life has been extinguished, well that is just mean.
I don’t do secrets and cannot imagine keeping all this to myself. My friends and family know all that has happened, and boy oh boy, I am so not alone. So many women have miscarriages and it stays with them – always. It doesn’t matter if they were trying for their first or fifth child – it matters and it counts in a big way.
I thank you all for your love and support and for sharing your stories with me. It matters and it counts in a big way.
So to the Universe I say; This body of mine might be nearly 42, but you can teach an old dog new tricks. And if this body of mine can do it once, you betcha it can do it again – only better. Thank you for letting me know this.