It was interesting to read back on what I was feeling that day, so I thought I’d go ahead and publish this post. Since that little one was with me for such a short amount of time, I want to document anything and everything that “belongs” to it. Even my thoughts.
This is the first time that I have ever had a positive pregnancy test and not immediately smiled upon reading the test result. This time I saw the result, and I was instantly anxious. I put my head in my hands and said out loud, “Please don’t let me lose this one.” I wish I could have looked in the mirror, like all the other times, and smiled at myself and said, “You’re a new mommy!” but this time around, it was just different. I feel afraid. I don’t trust my body like I used to. My body somehow failed the last baby, and I just don’t trust it anymore. I know that’s an awfully negative way to view things, but I can’t help it. Some might say that my body did not fail me, that it knew what to do when “something wasn’t right” — but that’s a hard pill to swallow. I wanted that child no matter if “something wasn’t right”.
Typical Rich…wanting to shout to the world right away. He is always so proud and so excited whenever we are expecting. Hearing his excitement made me feel good.
Reading this post produces mixed emotions in me. Especially in reading the last paragraph…where a little of my excitement showed through. I was so reserved and guarded with this pregnancy, and rarely did I let myself get excited. And I’ve been feeling a little bit of guilt about that. But in this post, some excitement reveals itself. And that makes me feel good, in a way — to know that I did celebrate this little one in my heart, after all. And yet, it makes me feel sad, too. Sad because it never came to be. Another little one who I will never hold. And this one was due just days before Alex’s birthday. Oh, he would have loved that! He’s such a good big brother, and I just know he would have loved to have shared a birthday month with a new sibling.
I’m so glad that I found this post. It’s a memory, you know? Just something to document that little one’s existence in this world. For 10 weeks that little soul was here. He or she was real. Sometimes I need little things like the words in this post to give evidence to that.