Around the time of our second BFN last year, El Prima and I turned up to our local SANDS meeting (stillbirth and neonatal death support) to find that every other couple, bar the convenors, was pregnant, including the ones who'd only started coming the month before. Better still, I found out that the psychologist who had urged me to wait a year before trying to get pregnant again, was herself pregnant. Within a few days, we found out that other dear friends, who'd lost their child six months after we lost Z were pregnant. It was such beautiful news for them, but I found myself feeling stingy with the goodwill - it felt like I'd been patiently waiting my turn, and had suddenly realised that there actually wasn't a queue at all - everyone else was helping themselves. And for whatever reason, I just couldn't manage to do the same.
From where I am now - holding four positive tests tightly against my chest and wrestling with hope and fear over next week's scan, it is easy to say that there is no fairness, conception happens when it happens - it (like death) is one of the ultimate uncontrollables. But I know that was no comfort to me when the BFNs kept coming and I wondered whether I'd lost the only child I'd ever conceive (don't laugh - I'm good at melodrama).
So that means I'm very conscious that my moaning on about my uncertainty where at least it does seem that there is some tiny little embryo to be uncertain about for the moment may be hard for you. Feel free to read or not read as you see fit, but please know that with every step I am sending love and the biggest, beef-i-est wishes possible that everyone who is wishing for a BFP gets it soon. And any posts blathering on about psychosomatic symptoms or thoughts about this potential PLB will be helpfully prefaced by a *P*.
Pinafore Obsession - I have been casually searching since sometime last year for the perfect pair of dungarees and the perfect pinafore. The dungarees are for another day, th...
4 weeks ago