This week marks the realisation that I am now in the third trimester. We have spent the pregnancy on a pulsing tide of emotions ranging from fear, joy, anxiety, excitement, grief, low mood, and lots of love that grows in abundance.
We have avoided stretch mark cream, antenatal classes, buying baby things, all because we wonder if we are “pregnant enough yet” and each step we take holding our breath due to the fear of becoming too attached and then things going terribly wrong. Now on the home straight, it’s time for us to embrace these experiences. I’m proud to say we have finished the nursery, complete with furniture and a crib in our room for the early months. We have booked an antenatal class and I am starting a daisy birthing course which hopefully will help me to relax.
It seems ironic in a sense that at this stage of pregnancy, when things are getting real for us and we are having to learn to embrace it through our fear, it is now the time leading up to losing Robyn and his first birthday. Two very different emotions running along the same time line. The lead up to Easter has been more triggering than I had first imagined. Easter is a time of new hope and life, last Easter certainly was. It was a milestone for us as we were in the second trimester and had begun to feel safer. Then sadly a month after entering the new season we lost our little boy.
I’m frightened about Easter this year. The fear that the same thing will happen with this baby. I worry when family and friends are going away over Easter, that something awful will happen and I’ll have to break the news to them when they arrive back. All these irrational fear and worries sadly overshadow our pregnancy. I wish that we could indulge in the classes and books and purchases that others do during pregnancy, instead of looking at each item of clothing and cloth nappy as items that we may have to return. We have grieved the loss of innocence for this pregnancy.
The pain of losing Robyn gets easier in that we can have days that feel more normal again and have days that we cry and it feels so raw. It’s the unfairness and injustice of losing him that never gets easier. I still have days when I question why. Why did he have to have amniotic band syndrome? Why? It is the inability to give him the full life he should of had that will never heal in my heart.
The next eleven weeks can’t go quick enough, we just want this little one here safe in our arms.