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?

Green-eyed monster

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.