Friday, 2 July 2010

today it was a tiny thing that made me cry.

---

today i went back to the hospital i was booked into. where i had the scan. i didn't have to go to the maternity unit, but when i woke up and remembered that i had to go there again, i winced. i didn't want to go.

but i went. and it was ok. i suppose. although for some reason there seemed to be ultrasound pics of my baby in the back of my file. in cardiology. i don't understand that. (and no i've never had an ultrasound for any other reason.) but i was confused more than upset.

(don't worry, i seem to be ok. they're just investigating.)

i told the consultant about the miscarriage, insofaras it related to today's appointment (not much). i kept calm. i didn't cry.

i made it back out and got onto the bus back to work.

i sat and daydreamed, gazing out of the window and listening to HTDA. but halfway back, i found myself looking at a car showroom, the cars sparkling in the summer sun.

and out of nowhere i was transported back nearly eight months. to a sunny day in october, when D and i were wandering round, looking for a newer car to replace the one that kept going wrong. i thought we were being quite previous, that it was jumping the gun to be looking at buying a new car when the baby wasn't due for another seven months. (i thought at that point that it was quite previous to assume we were having a baby at all. i'd already started worrying about having a missed miscarriage. oh the irony. if only i'd kept worrying about that. maybe it wouldn't have been such a body blow.) but D insisted that keeping me safe while i was pregnant was just as important. so we spent our week off trekking round car showrooms.

at that one we looked at a mondeo. we thought about buying it for a while but ended up with something else. we didn't tell any of the salespeople that we were having a baby. it was our secret. we protected it.

i remembered.

and suddenly, on the bus back to work in the middle of the morning, my hand was over my mouth, trying to keep the sobs in, and tears were rolling down my face.

i could've expected many things to make me cry. but never just driving past a car showroom.

i don't think i was even crying for the baby, not this time. i was crying for the loss of who we were that day. i was crying for our lost innocence. i was crying for the couple who smiled secret smiles at each other.

it's not even that i wish i could have warned us what was going to happen. i wouldn't want to take our happiness away. our joy. our utter belief that once the 12 week scan was past, everything would be ok.

i just wish we could be those people again.

i miss that version of us nearly as much as i miss my baby.

---

three weeks later or so, the baby would be dead.

we wouldn't find out for another four weeks after that.

i still find that impossible to comprehend.

5 comments:

Catherine W said...

Oh sweetheart. I am so sorry. Sometimes it is things like car show rooms that seem to hurt the most. I don't know why that should be, perhaps because we miss that innocence and that joy. We miss the old versions of us, as you say.

I was the same. I worried and worried about miscarrying but, after week 12, I stopped.

And it is impossible to comprehend. It truly is. x

Illanare said...

(0)

car said...

We bought a new car in anticipation of having 2 kids (I just had to have something with sliding doors)and every time we drove it for the first couple weeks after Reid I cried. I totally want to go back to being the person who was so sure that her baby would arrive safely that she spent thousands of dollars.

I wish that we all could back to having happy joyful secrets, not scary horrible ones.

B said...

Thanks Catherine.
Thanks Illanare. It's always good to know you're reading.
Oh Car, it's that as well. We borrowed thousands of pounds from my parents for the car, so there's an extra layer of guilt. I'm sure they don't begrudge it, but I feel so stupid, like it was such a waste of money.

I'm so glad I have people reading who understand. Thank you all, again.

Aoife said...

"it was our secret. we protected it" - exactly. That's exactly how we feel now. I miss the innocence from before. like you say - the people we once were.