Until I see the consultant at the fertility clinic.
I’m feeling really hormonal. I’ve been bleeding lightly now for 3 days, but it hasn’t developed into a proper AF yet.
This morning as I was pulling up outside school I saw the mum who gave birth on Thursday walking in with her husband, two sons and a baby carrier.
My heart sank. I thought I’d have a couple of days to prepare before the baby showed up. I was feeling tearful already this morning, so I walked into school as slowly as possible, but it wasn’t slowly enough. I arrived in the playground and the doors were still closed and there was nowhere to go, but over to say hello…
She’s had another boy – three boys. What I would have had if my son’s heart hadn’t suddenly stopped without explanation at 10 weeks 4 days (or possibly if any of the other 6 babies had made it in the last three years). She had a home birth – her second. What I desperately wanted and had to have counselling over because my peaceful home birth turned into a hospital emergency. And this morning she’s doing the school run, saying I’m just glad it’s all done and I’ve got my body back to be honest.
Why are some women able to have babies so easily?
I couldn’t look anyone in the eye on the way out, and I cried silent tears all the way home with a monster of envy and jealously in the pit of my stomach. She has everything I have been dreaming of. Just like that.
Not a great start to the morning, but at least now I’ve faced the worst part – seeing the baby for the first time, and having to feign wonder, and excitement and joy.
Tomorrow I meet with the consultant. I’ll call her Dr Bird (no real reason, it’s the first thing that came into my mind).
I have all my forms, all my pregnancy losses listed, all my consent and questionnaires filled out. And a credit card at the ready. Ha ha.
I have no idea what she’s going to say, or recommend.
I’m afraid I’m going to cry when I visit her, because I don’t talk to anyone about this apart from my husband. My emotions are like a great body of water behind a dam that no one else knows is there. I might start crying and not be able to stop. A torrent of almost three years of tears flooding out, like a tsunami through her office. I hope that doesn’t happen. I hope she says something nice. I hope she doesn’t judge me on wanting a baby when I already have two children.
Wouldn’t it be great if I could just go in there, and come out miraculously, perfectly pregnant?
Most of all, I hope that I don’t come out of there tomorrow feeling worse than when I went in.