When I Grow Up

When I was a little girl I had a dream for my life. Where others wanted to be Doctors, Astronauts, Entrepreneurs… I wanted to be a mother. To so many it seemed so mundain, what a boring choice. Of course I had other aspirations, but growing up I’d always been so maternal. I begged my parents to have another child and couldn’t wait until the day I’d have my own.
I fell in love with my dream man, we got engaged, had our first baby and then married – the modern way!
I thought conception would be so easy. I was still young, healthy and fertility would be no issue. But after 9 excrutiatingly long months Tiny One was conceived and 39 weeks, 2 days later there she was.
So life carries on, baby grows and parenting becomes easier and after a little while we knew we were ready for Baby 2.
It seemed like a bigger decision in a way because our little Tiny One was and remains the apple of our eye. Spoiled, loved more than all others – how could we do such a thing to her? Maybe she’ll be jealous, maybe she’ll be okay. But silly worries subsided and the pull of maternal love grabs at me once more.
Lets just see what happens. The famous last words, and amazingly for us, straight away it happens.
Two little blue lines. One little baby.
The joy of growing a new life is worth so much. Overwhelming happiness consumes every bone in my body as my little family is growing and life is almost complete.
The worry of pregnancy sets in quickly. The post-pregnancy-test bliss has faded, why am I not experiencing any symptoms? At 6 weeks it hits me like a tonne of bricks. I was one of the unlucky few with severe pregnancy sickness. Those who have it so bad it has a really long unpronounceable name.
A bunch of trips to the hospital, handfuls of drugs, several injections and even being admitted and after a few weeks I was feeling better.
Bloody hell, I’d forgotten how hard pregnancy was. Dragging yourself around and trying to look after a toddler whilst your body is literally killing itself is exhausting.
But as I said after a few weeks I was on the mend and a few weeks later I nearing the joy of the second trimester.
I couldn’t wait for the 12 weeks scan, that time when you feel safe to finally announce to the world that, woohoo, we are having another baby! My head spun with clever and witty pregnancy announcements. Maybe we’d have Tiny One in a big sister t-shirt? I’ll use my professional camera, take a lovely picture. I wonder how many people will congratulate us. I can’t wait to tell so and so.
Nothing can prepare you for miscarriage.
On the morning of the scan, I started bleeding. At 11 o’clock the sonographer tucked the paper towel into my jeans, put the cold jelly on my stomach and the screen produced a black and white image of our unmoving child. Our worst fears were confirmed.
We had lost our baby.

17966041_1911565859057648_705281186070373854_o(Photo: 11 weeks pregnant. So full of joy for the future. A memory I can hold, forever.)

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