A Shadow on Your Joy

It's been almost a year now since I lost my first baby.  I still think about it, and think how old that baby would be now, how it would make celebrating Christmas different.  How we would have presents under the tree for him or her.  How it would have affected the year just past, my job, my future job, our finances, our life.  Life would be very different.

And life will be different, it's just been postponed.  I've probably even ended up with different opportunities that may have passed me by had I not been in the workforce. 

It still makes me a little nervous though.  Last Christmas Day, I was pregnant.  All was well.  Two days later, I wasn't.  It happens so fast.  And there is nothing you can do about it.  This Christmas Day, I am pregnant, again.  I know the same thing won't happen again with this pregnancy.  I'm much further along.  But you still know that something could happen.  And there is nothing you can do about it. 

I don't usually think like that during this pregnancy, but this time of the year, with all the reminders, those thoughts start creeping back into your head.  Not as often or with as much impact as early on in the pregnancy but they are still there.  Just a little shadow clinging onto your joy.

Boo

It was a pleasure to escape the mad crowds of Christmas by wandering quietly through Mothercare.  The crowds and queues did not encroach on this peaceful space and it gave me some quiet time to wander through and look at the myriad options you can buy for your baby (most totally unnecessary, I'm sure - but fun nonetheless).

I found myself browsing through the pram section.  I knew I would eventually have to find a pram I like, and now, with a new job starting and maternity leave shortened, I will need to make this purchase in the next few weeks.  So I began familiarising myself with the offerings.

I already have an idea of what my perfect pram will be.  Although I'm not sure the vision will match the perfect price tag.  It doesn't take me long to dismiss a pram - too wide, too heavy, doesn't lay flat, no basket, just ugly.  None of them really seem just right.  Until I turn around and spy one style, separated from the others.  It looks promising.  I wander over and start taking it in.

Tick
Tick
Tick
Tick

Hmmm, nice pram.  Pretty much perfect.  Wow, it is perfect.  What's the name?  Oh, it's a Bugaboo Cameleon.  I don't think I want to look at the price tag, but I do...

Ouch.

Boo to the Bugaboo.

Clarity

I went along to pregnancy yoga last Tuesday, and there our teacher invited us to choose a card.  I chose one, just from my gut feeling, I did not know what it said before I picked it up.  But the patterns and the colour and the feeling drew me to that card.  I can't remember the exact words, but its message was that it was time for me to seek clarity about myself, and my future with my baby.

This is interesting.

I had a pretty clear picture in my mind about my baby, my family and my future.  As clear as you can be about an uncertain future.  Who really can predict what will happen in 6 months time, 2 months time, tomorrow?  But my vision was this:

I would take maternity leave starting from the new school year, have my baby when she chooses to make her appearance, stay at home for an unidentified period of time (at least 3 months, at most... 20 years?) and go back to work when the right job came along and it fit with how we, as a family, felt at the time.  That's enough clarity for me.

So I had applied, and been granted, maternity leave.  Everything was on track.

Then three weeks ago, a job was advertised.  It was a job that I have wanted to do since I started my career, only it has never existed before.  So I applied.

Then I was asked to attend an interview.

Then I was offered the job.

I accepted.

So I cancelled my maternity leave.  I start my new job in February, and will work as long as I am able.  That may be two weeks, it may be six, it may be eight, although I doubt it.  If they allow me to go back part time after finishing maternity leave, perhaps that's what I will do.

I think I still have clarity.  The picture is just a little different, that's all.

The Moment

A few weeks ago, we had a morphology scan.  This is standard practice.  It was absolutely fascinating.  Technology allows you to see the ventricles of the heart, to see the blood pumping in and out, to watch the movement and flow to make sure all is functioning well.

Technology allows you to see the hemispheres of the brain.  It allows you to study the limbs, the spine, the digits.  You can see the eyes, and even the retina, to ensure all is well.  You can see the stomach and other internal organs.  You can see the nose, the mouth and the shape of the skull.

Technology is truly amazing.  All this, to make sure your precious little baby is developing as healthily as it can, and if not, to help it out in utero.

The funny thing is, while this information was fascinating and made us both happy and surely what every parent-to-be wants to hear, the moment that truly made us stop, shed a tear, and squeeze each other's hands, was when the sonographer said:

You've got a baby girl.

Creature

To my joy, I have now been feeling my baby move around for about three weeks.  I love it, and await those times eagerly (usually just as I am settling down to relax or sleep of course!)

At first, it was only me who could notice it.  The movements weren't strong enough for my husband to perceive them.  One night though, I was lying in bed reading, with my bookmark balancing across my upper stomach.  I noticed the bookmark moving slightly as I breathed.  An experiment then!  I moved the bookmark down low, to where I knew my bub was, and watched, and waited.

Waggle!

The bookmark waggled!  It was very obvious.  I told my husband, and he in turn watched and waited...

Waggle!

He saw it too!  He laughed and smiled and gave me a big hug and kiss.  This was his first hint of reality.  That there really is a baby in there.

I had a different hit of reality a few days later.  I felt the baby move.  And I realised that there was a human being in there.  In my body.  A little human being, different from and separate (although dependent) to me.

That's just weird.  There is a creature in my body!