yesterday i went to Almonds and Raisins, the health food shop i go to most in Newcastle (for many reasons, although vegan chocolate cake slices are one of the most important... yum).
anyway. i asked the lady behind the counter about whether she knew anything about Bach flower remedies, as someone has mentioned that they might be useful for me and i was wondering if they are safe in pregnancy. the upshot of the conversation is that she didn't know, but she was very wary about taking anything in pregnancy that hasn't been prescribed (which is my opinion too). but as a result, she realised i was pregnant, and i ended up telling her what happened... i was going to say at the end of last year, but i can't say that now. at the end of 2009, i guess.
and. she. was. horrified.
'seventeen weeks? you didn't find out for five weeks?'
and you know how some people could make that sound like a criticism? like, 'how on earth could you not know something was wrong?'? (the thing i think myself.) well, she didn't. and it's a long time since i've seen that look of compassion on someone's face.
and i was ok while we finished talking, and when i left the shop. but as i walked towards the library, i realised it again. five weeks is a long time to think you're pregnant when you're actually not. and when you think you were well into the second trimester and the 'safe' (ha ha) period, to find out that as far as the NHS is concerned you had a first trimester miscarriage, not something that deserves investigation, or even extra scans the next time around? that's an extremely hard thing to deal with.
and! i didn't cry, but i was definitely tearful as i walked on.
but then... my brain continued with this train of thought, but then it made a leap. an amazing leap.
partly because last time is my only experience of being pregnant, of wanting and expecting a living child...
and partly because i'm pregnant at the nearly exactly same time of year and living through a very similar winter to last year's grief-filled season...
and partly because i'm terrified to believe, in case my belief somehow kills the baby....
i haven't been living this pregnancy.
i've been reliving my last pregnancy.
and we all know how that turned out, so i've just been waiting for bad news to turn up. and really, i've been expecting it in the next few days. i'm well aware that on saturday i'll be 16+6. the day when it all went to shit last time.
in the meantime, i haven't really realised that this pregnancy is different. even though so many things are different to last time. a different hospital. more scans. a baby that moves slowly, deliberately on the ultrasounds, rather than last time's that wouldn't keep still. a bump that is growing, albeit slowly, rather than last year's, which popped out and then didn't really change.
a baby that i already know has lived longer than the last one, even if it only turns out to be one week and three days longer. it's progress. maybe not a huge amount, but it's progress.
and with all that came a lightening. not a huge one, but a lightening all the same. my fears have not disappeared, but they've become a little - just a little - more manageable.
and i'm starting to realise that maybe... just maybe... there is hope.
maybe this baby will make it.
this also kinda links into this post inspired by a comment from Merry
and i'm still really scared, and i'm still going to blog about it, because i need to let the fears out, because i don't want them staying inside, where the baby is.
but... maybe there is hope.
maybe this baby will make it.
maybe a week today the scan will see a baby that's moving, that's the right size, that's healthy, that has a perfect heartbeat.
not definitely. nothing's guaranteed. but it's a possibility.
and maybe that will keep me cracking up. for the next seven days or so, at least.