to see me talking to D last night, joking about what the baby was up to and whether it can hear yet, you would think that i'm faking the fear that i talk about on here.
but then, if you talked to me when i get upset and scared and convinced that the baby's dead, you'd think i had to be faking when i joke with D about the baby.
in reality, they're both true. even when i'm scared and convinced the baby is dead and there is no hope, i'd still be shocked to the very core to find out there was really something wrong. even when i'm joking and talking about the baby, i'm still hating myself inside for believing.
the joy and the terror coexist, nearly every single moment. it's exhausting.
i'm 15 weeks 4 days today. i'm not hating this part of pregnancy quite as much as i thought i would. since i had that scan a couple of weeks back time has actually been passing at a more normal rate, not superslowly as it was for the first trimester. but still. last time around, the baby was long dead by now, but i still wouldn't find out for another 9 days. part of me is expecting a similar outcome, part of me simply can't believe that the same thing would happen again.
and yes, i know how naive that is. i would expect more sense from myself, knowing all i know now.
last new year's eve was when the shock wore off and the pain and the grief really started. i'm a bit nervous about it. i'm going round to a friend's house with D; it'll just be us, J and her husband, but... what if the echoes of last year get too strong and i just sit there in tears?
i think i'll be ok, but it's hard to tell for sure.
i still need to write properly about christmas. soon.