This time last year, I thought I was pregnant. If we take Saturday 13th of May as a year ago, I didn't know for sure, but I was, in my own words, scarily hopeful. I had suspected that I was pregnant for a few days before that. I'd never been pregnant before, to my knowledge, but I knew that this felt different. That those uterine tuggings and pullings I was feeling were like nothing I'd ever felt before. I didn't want to believe it until I knew, but it was hard not to hope.
The following morning I eventually took a pregnancy test just after 4am. And it was positive. I have rarely been that happy in my life. I woke H up, we laughed, we cried. I wrote you all a long post, and I went back to sleep for a while. It was a wonderful feeling.
It didn't last. On our wedding anniversary I still believed it, but the weekend before our 6w scan I stopped believing it. I didn't feel pregnant any more. My boobs shrank. I 'knew' I was no longer pregnant. It didn't end then, but it ended 2 weeks later.
That baby would have been born about 3.5 months ago, or about 1 month into this pregnancy. There was nothing wrong with him genetically, we don't know why he didn't make it. But he never got as far as having a heartbeat.
It's hard to think about him now. In all the discussion of whether the baby of this current pregnancy is a boy or a girl, and how I felt about that, I did think about him, but found it too hard to mention him in the posts. If he had survived, I wouldn't have had this pregnancy. I wish he had survived, but I also don't wish this baby away. I had a dream early in this pregnancy, I can't remember if I typed about it or not, and I can't remember the details now, but it involved 2 babies, or being pregnant with twins, and being told I could only have one of them. In the dream I screamed and cried, but in the end I had to give one up so the other could live and thrive. It seems pretty bleeding obvious what that was about, no?
I know I'm lucky. I got pregnant 3 times in 8 months, after all, that barely qualifies as infertile, even if 2 of them were through IVF or FET. I know I'm lucky in that nothing seems to be wrong with this pregnancy or this baby (but remind me to tell you about our Friday night trip to labour and delivery when I get the chance. Short version, nothing's wrong, but it felt wrong enough to get checked out). I know I'm lucky in so many other ways. And I'm not saying I'm suddenly too sad to appreciate what I've got. I haven't woken up this morning and felt suddenly bereft. I'm still so very excited about this pregnancy. I miss him but I'm happy to be pregnant with his sister. It's the usual mess of feelings that we all walk around with every day. We're happy to be pregnant but worried what it does to our community and how it will make our friends feel. We're relieved that the failing pregnancy is finally over, yet we are still grieving the loss of the baby that didn't get to be. We're thrilled to finally be submitting our home study, but a part of us still mourns the biological children we lost. None of it is easy, none of it is straightforward, but we're all just doing the best we can to get through it ourselves, and to support others as they suffer, too.
This morning I'm remembering my son who didn't made it.