Thingy’s pregnant! Well she better not count her chickens

I’m at that age, early thirties, where 2017 has been a baby-booming year. Speaking of booming, pregnancies are a bit like a ticking time bomb. Is the pin going to stay safely in? Or, is it going to drop and all end?

I spoke in a previous post about the green-eyed monster – being jealous of other people’s pregnancies when my first one ended in misery and the deepest bitterness. The news now is like someone standing next to a balloon with a sharp object for nine months. I know it’s cynical, and nothing really to do with me, but it’s the flood of emotion I feel when I hear someone’s news.

The reliving my first time – the positive pregnancy test, the visions of a baby in nine months time, going to the scans, going baby shopping, the birth, their first tooth…and so on. It’s there, like a wave of motherhood washing over you, before it’s all really begun. A poppy seed in fact, buried deep in your womb.

The termination that sticks in your memory forever – the letters ’TFMR’ branded on the side of your frontal lobe. The promise you once had dissolved into an appointment at a clinic, throwing you back into the past where you were 16 weeks earlier – baby-less and never-to-be-the-same-again.

For anyone who has a TFMR will probably always relive that feeling when they hear new baby news, even if you go on to have 2,3 or 10 Rainbows. We will feel it because pregnancy presents it’s self as risk – odds, numbers, age – whats the risk? Will I have this baby or not? “We’re having a baby!” – well, it’s not a done deal I’m afraid.

After the three second influx of absolute dread, you dust yourself off again and think logically. I have my Rainbow now and she was worth it all. And Thingy is pregnant? Oh wow! That’s amazing – how far along is she?