I have a good friend who is 18 days more pregnant than I, who is, in fact, due on my birthday. I spent some time today reading her pregnancy blog, and several thoughts occurred to me as I did…
That I envy her. She, in many ways, is living her pregnancy much more so than I. It took me almost two months to write in the journal I’ve bought for the baby because while I want this child more than I want to take my next breath, I also am terrified of going through the loss I went through with hope. Sure I talk, I obsess, I think about the pregnancy almost constantly, but it’s hard for me to buy things, to think too far into the future, to even really believe that I’ll hold this child some day this fall. She, while fearing miscarriage in the same amorphous way I did with Hope, doesn’t share in my visceral need to try and detach from this child I love (which is impossible because I love this baby) because I know exactly what it’s like to go through that loss. And for that innocence, I envy her.
The next thought I had was much more about me, and how I’m approaching this pregnancy, which is constantly through a lens of fear. So much so that I’ve already had two ultrasounds because of (a) what was probably a piece of food floating in the toilet that I decided looked like tissue and (b) some actual spotting (what might have been some blood caused by the placenta implanting) and I have yet to have my first OB appointment (which is Tuesday). I am 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and there’s no way I can go through the next 31 weeks and 3 days like this. I had already made an appointment with a therapist, because I know I’m going through too much to handle on my own, but it really does bother me how little joy I’ve allowed myself.
Understand that I have no rational reason to be afraid like this. The two ultrasounds dated the baby a little older than I had expected and then confirmed that s/he (although I think it’s a he…just a feeling) had grown EXACTLY how much s/he should have. The second ultrasound (last weekend) at 7 weeks 6 days also allowed us to hear the baby’s strong and regular heartbeat. And yet, the fear persists.
So there you have it…the fear and envy of a pregnant woman scared to love (while deeply in love) with her second pregnancy, terrified that this too will end in blood and tears and no child in my arms.