Today I called the doctor who should have been telling me all about my happy pregnancy tomorrow, but instead they are now helping me to come to terms with what could happen. But as a precaution, as my last clutch at hope, they must have two blood tests to confirm if the numbers are falling before they can set in stone my fate of a miscarriage. The hours truly are longer than years, and every time I change position in bed I’m terrified of triggering off more stomach cramps, it feels so alien lying on my back to sleep and it’s almost impossible to switch off my thoughts at night. But for those few quiet moments in the early hours of the morning when I realise I’ve started to drift off panic shocks me back to reality for fear I might roll onto my stomach and return to my usual comforting sleep pattern at the expense of this little one. I’m bursting to go to the toilet but I lay frozen too scared to stand up, too afraid to push in case anything more comes out. I’m trying my hardest to keep you safe little one, but I don’t even know if you’re still with me.
The waiting is sending me insane and it’s all that I can think of. Out of desperation I took another pregnancy test, wanting to know if it would give me a different answer to last week to tell me what those terrible numbers were doing. As I sat waiting with the pregnancy test in my hand I begged it to change, I wanted it to tell me I was further along in the pregnancy now, my heart willed the screen to change, but at the same time I was preparing myself to see ‘not pregnant’ so that my heart could be spared any more suffering and waiting and uncertainty. But in a bittersweet ending the test appeared the same as before ‘Pregnant 1 month’ and it did little to calm my nerves. Surely this meant the numbers weren’t falling? But they also aren’t rising. Or maybe I was still a few days from turning five weeks and it isn’t close enough yet to show the next result?
In sadness I even had a tarot reading and asked if this baby could be mine, and I was shocked to be told such precise answers to my question. I thought it would be vague like something out of the back of a TV guide telling me about love and life. But instead it told me I had to wait because it was buying me the time that I needed, and that I wouldn’t conclude this all until the near future? Perhaps it meant next year when I would be due to give birth, and not tomorrow in such a terrible and inhumane way. Or maybe it meant I would have a healthy baby soon, but not right now? It also said I would have a boy, with dark hair and he would be lovely and kind and make me so proud. And it makes me so happy to hear, but does that mean I won’t get to keep him now, or that is what I would have had if none of this were happening? My little baby is so delicate and so close to the line, he could have such a beautiful life, and he would be loved more than anything in the world from now until forever if only I could have the chance to keep him. But it all lies in somebody else’s hands, on my blood test results, and those horrible numbers that spin through my mind. And so I must wait, this time with soft hands resting on my stomach, staring at the ceiling in the darkness trying to hold onto every last minute with my baby until the morning comes. And every time I allow myself to go to the toilet I close my eyes in fear to look down the pan and see what I don’t want to see, but somehow I am surprised that the blood is slowing gradually, and in the morning it is very nearly gone, and at last I can sleep for an hour at least.