I thought I’d be as big as a house right now. I’d be finding it hard to get up and down our twisted steep steps. I would be making excuses at work about why I was wearing tracksuit trousers and stretchy tops instead of smart jeans and a shirt.. not that I’d need excuses. I’d be asking Bear to get me ice cream and making baby booties. I would be planning Christmas loosely based around a hospital trip on Boxing Day, possibly sooner. I would be trying to control the happy bounciness of my crazy mother-in-law and father, whilst having calm conversation with my mother and father-in-law. I would maybe know whether the life I was carrying was male or female, and would be fighting with anyone who suggested my choices were blue or pink, as if! I would be planning the budget in relation to whether they wanted music lessons when they were older, or wanted to go to University (those fees are only going to get worse). I would be trying to calm my Bear of a husband as he rolled from joyous to terrified and back again. I would be walking to stay active and probably trying to walk on my arm strength knowing that I’d need it soon.
But I’m not and that still hurts.
When we’ve talked about children and trying now or in the future, it has felt strange to even consider getting pregnant before Christmas. It’s strange because that’s their time, that’s when they are coming, and I can’t use space that’s already filled. It’s like my brain hasn’t completely accepted that it’s over already, and was over before it really began.
It has been said that time heals all wounds, but time is part of this wound. Every pregnant mother counts down the days till she will meet for the first time her son or daughter. There are routines within that time of doctors visits, checkups, ultrasounds. There are stages you count down as you find out more and more and try to prepare for your life changing forever.
I don’t have any of these points along my journey. Instead I have 1 month since, 6 months since, 1 month and they might have been here. Christmas to me represents not only Jesus, Santa, and family. Alongside all that there is a child I’ll never meet.
This child will grow older with me, but doesn’t exist. They haven’t disappeared, they are just not here anymore. I’m not sure our society is good at understanding this. I don’t blame them but it still hurts. 8 months along still hurts, and I can’t imagine I’ll ever forget.
For those that have been in this position, I understand. For that haven’t, I hope this shines a light on what many women have been through.