Every time I take a photo of Busby and H-Bear together, all I can think is: “Hopefully, soon, in a few months, there will be three! Three of them in yellow coats. Three of them stomping around in wellies. Three of them ignoring my camera!”
As I write this, I’m sat at my desk 30 weeks pregnant and feeling extremely lucky with every week that passes. 30 weeks… that means we’re in single figures for the weekly countdown. It’s gone so quickly, which I’m very thankful for as it’s given me less time to stew over my worries. I am so excited and so equally terrified. And to be honest, it still doesn’t feel real. I don’t know whether it’s a self-preservation thing, where I’m trying not to get my hopes up that this will all end happily?
I just feel so cautious about everything. Like I’m playing the part of a pregnant lady, without truly living it, because I’m scared we might lose another baby.
Although physically straightforward (for the most part, if you ignore the nausea that lasted over 20 weeks – bleurgh!), this pregnancy has been a strain emotionally and mentally. Not in the same way H-Bear’s was, where depression and anxiety were rife. But having miscarried twice prior to us falling pregnant with Bun, I seem to be ultra-aware of every niggle, every twinge and still, even at 30 weeks pregnant, I check the toilet paper every time I wipe to make sure there is no blood.
My dreams are anxiety-ridden. I’m having a lot of nightmares where I wake up with heart palpitations, sweating buckets, and it takes me ages to calm down and drop off back to sleep.
She is growing well; the consultant was very happy with her growth at our second 20 week scan. Her kicks are regular and are forming patterns (hello 5am!). Our 4D scan was incredible; seeing her face has really helped with my positive visualisations. Knowing that she looks so like Busby and H-Bear helps convince my mind that she is real too.
We’ve reached viability now, which has definitely helped me relax a little more. I know that the hospital would do everything they can to save her if she decided to arrive early.
After experiencing loss, you almost expect things to go wrong. You find yourself wondering whether you actually deserve the miracle that you are growing in your womb. You keep thinking “it’s all going great, but…” and it’s difficult to get out of the mind funk, because you’re always preparing for that moment when it doesn’t go right. It’s self-preservation again; it’s hard to get excited when you’re continuously expecting to hit the depths of low at any moment.
But there is hope. Oodles of it. And when I stop worrying and tensing up about what could go wrong between now and full term, I start to get excited about our future together as a family of five. Our first visit to see Father Christmas as five! Our first Christmas! And then first teeth. First foods. First steps. There’s so much to look forward to.
I’m really hoping that seeing our amazing hypnobirthing teacher this week will help with the confidence aspect. I’ve found myself getting worried about giving birth again, which is silly really as H-Bear’s birth was so glorious and I know deep down that I can do this again! I think I just need to bring that belief back into the forefront of my mind. So it’s time to get reading Ina May Gaskin again, time to practice my hypnobirthing visualisations every day, and time to really, truly believe that in a few weeks time, our final family member will be snuggled up in my arms. Both of us underneath the rainbow blanket I bought when I first found out I was pregnant with her, watching the Christmas lights twinkle away in the corner.