My husband and I have been telling our friends and family about our little Roo (our nickname for whoever is growing in there) in waves as we get closer to the 12-week mark. Seeing their […]
My husband and I have been telling our friends and family about our little Roo (our nickname for whoever is growing in there) in waves as we get closer to the 12-week mark. Seeing their reactions and feeling their excitement for us never gets old, but sometimes I wonder if my excitement level isn’t high enough. Truth be told, I’ve been hesitant to bask in too much joy over this pregnancy because I’m so scared it could be taken away. Prior to this blogging opportunity, I was afraid to invest my emotions in a written testament to how thrilled I was to be pregnant in case I jinxed things. There’s no way I could pass this up, however, and I thought it was time to face my fears.
How could I be anything but ecstatic about having my first baby? Because technically, this isn’t my first pregnancy. Last May, I experienced an unexpected one that had us deliriously happy, albeit shocked, on Friday and devastated Sunday when I lost it. That’s when I learned about chemical pregnancies (very early miscarriage). It’s taken me a long time to process what happened, since it was my first brush with motherhood (the insensitivity of medical personnel at the time didn’t help).
This time around, we were definitely trying for a baby, and after two months, huzzah! As a type-A person, I’ve always striven for success, but I’ve never been more unsure of the result or as relieved to see a positive sign. Within a week, though, I assumed the worst would happen and that our blessing would be short-lived. I was desperate to get a confirmation blood test, but the doctor’s office told me it wasn’t necessary and to wait until the eighth week for my first appointment. So I kept my fingers crossed that I’d make it to eight weeks.
And I did! Up until the moment we saw our baby’s shape take form on the ultrasound monitor and saw Roo’s heart flicker and flutter, I was half-convinced that I either had a false-positive pregnancy test or the heartbeat wouldn’t be there. It was a sweet relief to be proven wrong.
Now I’m approaching my second doctor’s appointment, and we’ll get to see Roo again! I still have fears about a miscarriage this close to the safe zone, but I’m doing my best to stay positive. Telling more people has helped a bit, since they all automatically assume that everything will be okay. Why wouldn’t I have a healthy pregnancy and a pink, chubby-cheeked baby in my arms at the finish line?
My mom’s confused then ecstatic expression and my friend’s squeal of pure delight when I first told each of them remind me that this is a time to be excited. Just because the first time around wasn’t meant to be doesn’t mean this one won’t work out. Blogging for P&N has escalated my joy, and now that I’m closer to the safe zone, I plan on basking in it for all it’s worth.