It's very hard for me to blog about my pregnancy. It's not that I have nothing to tell. Not that I don't enjoy every tiny little moment it will last. Not that I am not completely in love with whatever is growing inside of me.
It's just that somehow, I feel I didn't deserve it...
Two years ago, when I was pregnant with our twins, I was fully aware of the fact that it took a lot of hard work to get that far. 4 hard tear-filled years. And since everyone around me had already become pregnant once (or twice, or even...) and had the child(ren) they wanted so much (or didn't want at all...) during the time we'd been trying and failing, I felt fully justified in enjoying every moment of my pregnancy. I was in love with our twins from the moment that second line appeared. And I wasn't afraid to show that love to other people.
Oh yes, I was still aware of the vast amount of people that have trouble conceiving. But I'd been there. I knew those tears. I'd cried them myself. And even though I was still afraid it was all just a dream, that I would soon wake up never having been pregnant at all, or that I would suddenly lose them, I never felt I had to excuse myself for being pregnant.
Even though with the twins I never really felt I belonged at maternity-classes, even though I felt out of place and lost at a baby-store, I still felt I had every RIGHT to be there.
This time around? I'm having a hard time with it. I have so many fears about this pregnancy. I worry so often that it will go wrong, that I will lose the baby, or that it will be born extremely premature. I can't do anything to prevent bad things from happening. I know that. The only thing I can do is love this child with all my heart, for as long as it's here to stay. Whether that's a few more days, a few more months, or forever. Those worries won't go away, but I can deal with them.
What I'm having a hard time dealing with though, is the GUILT.
In my mind, I know that we worked just as hard for this baby as we did for the twins. We cried the same amount of tears for it. It was conceived at the exact same day as our twins, during the same IVF cycle.
But.
My heart feels it was somehow too easy. This FET was basically our very first serious try for a second pregnancy. And it worked. Just like that.
Two of our closest friends started trying for their first just after our twins were born. They got pregnant their very first cycle, but miscarried at 9 weeks. And have not been able to conceive since. It somehow feels WRONG that I am pregnant now, and they are not. It feels out of order. We have our twins. AND this pregnancy. They have nothing. Just the hurt of losing their first baby, and an uncertain future. And they are not the only ones.
When in the privacy of my own bedroom, I stand in front of the mirror and marvel at how fast my body is changing. I touch my belly and dream about this new child. I wonder if that little movement I just felt inside me was our baby. I secretly try to find it's heartbeat once a week with the doppler I got off the internet. My heart skipped at least three beats when I finally found it Yesterday. And when I know for sure that I'll be able to find it again, easily, I'll let my husband and the twins in on my little secret. Let them hear it, too. Let them get to know our new baby.
But before I go out, I put on wide shirts and jeans that are at least two sizes too large. I don't fit my regular clothes anymore, but I'm afraid to dig out the maternity clothes I saved after the twins were born. Afraid I'll tempt fate, sure, but also afraid to show people I'm pregnant. Afraid they'll judge me, just a little. But mostly afraid I'll hurt them.
And so this blog, too, has been quiet.
It won't be for much longer, though. I want to write about this pregnancy so much. About the way it's changing my body and heart. About how it affects the way I look at our twins. About my worries and fears, but also about my dreams. I want to remember every little thing about it, want to be able to read back in a few years and relive every single moment. The good ones, AND the bad. And I want to share it. It's too much for just one person. Too much worry. Too much love. Too many fears. Too much joy.
If you don't want to read it, don't. But I'm going to stop hiding. This child deserves more...
