Even before I became pregnant, the first time round, I always found it difficult to deal with pregnancy news. I put it down to my body clock and its underlying need for a child. I always knew I would have children one day but hearing the news of friends and family announcing their ‘new additions’ always turned me into a bit of a green-eyed monster.
I denied myself the opportunity to announce my pregnancy when I knew we were high risk. It was an odd feeling walking the streets ‘pregnant’, sitting at work ‘pregnant’ and speaking to friends ‘pregnant’ – I mean it’s a big deal, but I was cautious as I didn’t know which way it would go.
After the TFMR, I remember the pregnancy announcements at work. Five in fact. All around the same due date as mine. I became a bit obsessed – picturing them in their scans, all receiving the good news, “Everything looks fine”.Their twenty-week appointments, “It’s a boy!”. I’m not sure why but only assume it’s so I could live some sort of pregnancy even though mine had vanished.
I had the pleasure of witnessing their conversations of hospital appointments, sicknesses and ailments, baby names – bumps growing month by month. I actually managed to completely avoid one lady for the whole duration, as she got married the same time as me, and the pregnancy was too much of a reminder of how I had been robbed.
It was one of the hardest things to deal with, completely selfish and of course, I wished nothing negative on these women. After all, I’ve learnt pregnancy is a blessing and precious. Who knows what these women had gone through to get their baby.