… is that you’re not supposed to tell anyone. So I’m writing this because I enjoy writing this sort of thing, but I can’t publish it. At least not for a while, if ever at all. But it would be nice to have it here, if we make it pass the magic 12 week mark.
When we had the miscarriage in June, we kept pretty quiet about it. We told our families about it, but there was probably no need. We just wanted them to know how it was for us. Even though it was unplanned and unexpected, the pregnancy project had taken hold of us, and we really wanted it once we got over the surprise. I was so taken aback that I never quite believed in it, and I kept expecting someone to tell us we were wrong about the test result. When the miscarriage started and we had the scan, it was quite reassuring to know that there really was something in there – I hadn’t imagined it.
We found out at 7 weeks that it had stopped growing right about the time that we did the pregnancy test, which meant that all the time we were getting excited about having a baby, it was already over.
We started trying properly when I came back from China in August. Taking the folic acid, cutting the alcohol, counting the days. Coping with the waiting and the not-knowing and the disappointment.
And it only took us three months to catch another one. Now that we really understand some of the pitfalls, we are more cautious. We are not planning too far ahead, not thinking too much about when to make it official. We aren’t playfully giving it a bump-name. It’s impossible not to make thin little pencil-sketch plans that we daren’t colour in. But our main objective, at this point, is to be quietly glad of each day that we get through without losing it.