Tuesday, 30 November 2010

the lovely Angela Rodman has an amazing giveaway on her blog. spread the word!


i went to see my doctor today. we've decided that i'm going to start weaning off the antidepressants. i'm quite optimistic about it, but at the end of the day if i start to struggle i'll just go back onto them and try again later.


i am actually a little more positive today. kind of. in a wonky kind of way.

i can't imagine this baby is alive. but i also can't imagine it's dead. i just can't imagine there is a baby. the idea that there really might be one is just ridiculous. like i say, my brain cannot grasp what is supposed to be happening.

last time, i didn't really believe there was a baby until we had the scan. which, unfortunately, fell only four days before it died. unfortunately, i then spent over four weeks with a dead baby inside me, finally getting excited about what was going to happen, utterly unaware that it was already over.

i suppose that if i acknowledge this pregnancy - the bump that has to be more fat than baby, the tiredness, the hope that i'm too terrified to let in - then i acknowledge the fact that it's already too late. that if i lose this baby too, i am sunk.


i'm scared that the minute i believe in this baby will be the minute it dies. it's weird; some people are terrified that buying baby clothes or nursery furniture will somehow kill their baby. i'm actually ok with all that; i've bought far more baby things this time than i did last. for me, it's love and anticipation that i'm scared will prove fatal.

after all, it was when i was finally filled with love and anticipation last time that the baby died.


i realise that some readers might find it hard to hear how negative i feel about the chances of this pregnancy sticking.

it's similar to anticipatory grief, i think. last time, i was so utterly unprepared for the possibility of things going wrong (i was past 12 weeks!!! NO ONE has a miscarriage after 12 weeks!!!! well, except for all the people that do....) that it utterly broke me when it happened. as a result, my psyche is trying to prepare me for the possibility of the same thing happening again by telling me that it's already happened. i mean, that's all very well. it sounds really sensible.

apart from the whole fact that it doesn't actually work at all. but who cares about that part?

if that doesn't protect me, i have nothing to stop me from falling into the ravine.


less than 40 hours until my scan.


mare said...

Oh B, I know I do not know how you feel, but I just wanted to give you my two cents anyway: Please don't beat yourself up for how you feel. I mean, all you can really do is enjoy the good feelings this pregnancy brings and weather the scariness that will inevitably keep rising to the surface. I want to support you no matter what you are feeling.

(I apologize if I sound too preachy.)

Thinking of you and waiting with you until the scan. xoxo.

Hope's Mama said...

I bought a lot of things for Angus,my second child who was born alive, but each and every day I still thought he was going to die and wondered if he'd ever use any of those things. It is hard not to think that way.
Hold on, mama.

Miss Ruby said...

Everything I say to anyone at the minute tends to offend someone so I'll just say, I'm here, I'm reading and as always you're in my thoughts.


sarah said...

b, I dare you to find me the one pregnant-after-loss mama who doesn't experience the anticipatory grief and all the fears. I just don't think she exists. sure, maybe some experience these to an extent more than others, but it's gotta always be there. I guarantee you that if I ever get pregnant again I will be at the very least somewhat consumed by the belief that babies don't come out of pregnancies alive. Because, well, mine didn't.

And at the same time, millions do, every day. And I hope that this time around you are on the "good" side of all the statistics.

You have every right to feel everything you're feeling, no need to apologize to any of us. (Or, well, to me at least. I can't speak for everyone here.)

I'm sorry that it feels so consuming, so overwhelming, and so confusing - the hope showing up as buying clothes, interspersed with the despair or fear...it's got to be just crazy-making.

Have I mentioned how much I enjoy your tag "I don't like not knowing what's going on" It gives me a giggle every time I see it.

Sending love and counting the hours with you until your scan.

MK said...

I know exactly how you feel. I'm 33 weeks today and if she doesn't kick me "enough" times in a day, I'm convinced it's over. Here's the thing. I'm not religious but I've decided that I'm going to have faith. I'm going to see this through, no matter what but I want to enjoy the ride, not just rejoice in the destination...but really, what the hell do I know, I'm gorked out on anti-depressants and anti-anixiety pills ;)

Tears in November said...

Oh B, how I know. I know. Love to you.

B said...

thank you mare. it didn't sound preachy at all.

sally... it's so good (and so bad) that people understand. thank you.

rach, i have times like that too. it's good to know you're still reading hon.

thank you sarah for understanding. and i'm glad the tag makes you giggle ;)

MK i'm glad things are going well, even if it's just because of the drugs :) not long to go now....

paula thank you so much for being there and for understanding. it gives me hope that you and sally got there and had living babies after everything.

Illanare said...

My cousin miscarried her first baby at 8 weeks. She has gone on to have 2 gorgeous (living) babies but she didn't believe that either one of them would last until the day she gave birth. Both times. Anticipation of loss is the enduring legacy of loss.

Thinking of you and reading your blog, even when I don't comment.

Many hugs xx