I started 2018 convinced I was pregnant. So convinced in fact, that I confided in a couple of close female friends that I thought I probably was. I’d had implantation bleeding (which I’ve never had before), my breasts were in agony, and I felt ‘different’. I had lots more symptoms that pointed towards pregnancy, but the tests were all negative and my period arrived – three days late.
I was devastated.
We weren’t even trying for a baby at that point, but it made me realise how badly I wanted to be pregnant again. It was like my womb ached with emptiness.
Nick and I had a big chat over Christmas about whether we felt ready to start trying again after our miscarriage in the autumn. Following the miscarriage, the thought of having another baby filled me with such fear and dread. I wasn’t sure I could go through the trauma and pain of miscarrying again. I didn’t trust my body. I still don’t really trust my body, to be honest.
Why didn’t my body tell me that my baby had stopped growing? Why didn’t my pregnancy nausea stop? Why did my bump keep growing? – I still ask these questions every day.
But then we saw friends who were pregnant. And more friends announced more pregnancies. And we realised that we weren’t ready to give up on the dream of three children quite yet.
So this month we have started trying again once more.
Attempts have almost been thwarted by nasty colds (nothing says sexy like blowing your nose midway through!) and sick children. But now we’re in that ‘fun’ period of time where we have to wait… and wait… and wait… And February – usually the shortest month of the year – becomes agonisingly long.
I am useless at waiting. Patience is not a quality I possess in abundance, and I know I’ll be stockpiling pregnancy tests from Amazon in a week’s time. The bin gradually filling with more negative tests, day by day.
We have two beautiful children. And we are so incredibly lucky to have them. But it doesn’t lessen my yearning for our final piece of the jigsaw puzzle.
Something a lot of people (including health professionals) said to us after our last miscarriage was “You’ve had two healthy children – there’s no reason why you can’t have another one.” Endometriosis is the reason we might not be able to conceive again. I was advised by my consultant when I was 23 that I should start having children before I was 30, because it was unlikely to happen afterwards.
I turned 30 last August, and I fear that even though I have been able to conceive in the past, this might be it for me. That the 30 deadline is here.
I haven’t slept well the last few nights, which is usually my first pregnancy symptom. But then I’m worrying that I’m reading too much into everything… and that my worrying is stopping me from sleeping. It’s a vicious circle of fear, anxiety and hope.
Please let it be positive next week.