What a wonderful and difficult time this past month has been. We found ourselves staring at a positive pregnancy test with apprehension, victory, and pause. Yes! We did it! But am I ready for whatever life has in store for me in these next two months? Back in January, I was bursting with the strange newness of it all. It was a state in which I had never been before and I couldn’t wait to share the news with our family and friends. This time around it is jarringly familiar. There is a sense of déjà vu. As I go through the motions of downloading pregnancy apps and reading forums and driving to the OB I feel the presence of a ghost, something of a sister of mine who has been here before. She is so happy and I am so scared.
I was ready to be pregnant again but I was not ready to deal with my emotions. A special cocktail of dread and distance. I wanted to keep the news to myself at first as I didn’t quite know what to do with it really; the only other person to know besides Andrew was my star-crossed friend and pen pal Allana. After a couple of weeks it began to feel odd leaving out the biggest detail of my daily life in the phone conversations with my mom. So we told our parents. I felt my anxiety begin to dissipate a bit as though it was being shared by those who knew. I toyed with the idea of surprising our friends with an ultrasound (a step we never got to take before) instead of just words but I knew my nearest and dearest would want to help me through the first trimester rather than hearing the news (good or bad) at the end of it. So we told our friends and that anxiety spread out a little bit more.
A scare involving a blood clot and an unplanned ultrasound last week had me thanking God that I had reached out and was not going through this alone.
I am now 9 weeks + 1 day. Our missed miscarriage grew to 9 weeks + 3 days and was found at an 11 week ultrasound. I am walking on eggshells to our next appointment.
I am not used to declaring what I want. It has always made me feel selfish. I am used to resigning myself to what is given to me, accepting that I am not special and do not deserve all good things. Right now, I am declaring what I want. My voice is shaky and meek and trying not to end my sentences with question marks. But it’s there. I want this baby to live, thrive, grow, and be born into this world and into our family. I want to go into our next ultrasound and see that heartbeat again. I want to fantasize about strollers and how our dogs will react. I want to decorate a nursery and pick a name. I want this. Please God, I want this.