I met with my Dr a few days ago and we poured over the facts of this pregnancy. Everything looks good, she concluded. It seems your past experiences were probably just bad luck. I came home feeling pretty good. G and I had our first conversation about it as if it were going to happen. It felt a bit awkward. New territory, I suppose.
Yesterday I made a decision to change the way I live this pregnancy from here on. I have been so conditioned by my experience with g and his twin, which was fraught with complication from early on. I was told to take it easy and so I spent my months staying as far away from living as I possibly could. I became a shut in, afraid to waste even the smallest of efforts on anything that happened to concern the present tense. I existed, as still as humanly possible, and just waited for the other shoe to drop. Eventually, the giant thud arrived.
I decided not to do that again. Yesterday, I tried on the guise of the sanguine pregnant woman. I went for a walk. I met a friendly woman at the park, 7 months pregnant, and exchanged chit chat about having a second while our sons scrambled about, omitting all of my usual qualifiers.
I told my family.
Today I woke up feeling a little strange. I felt cramping. Then I discovered the spotting. Neither is acceptable at 18 wks.
I don’t think I would feel much different if thunderbolt-wielding Zeus himself had stepped down from Olympus and told me not to forget where I belong.
Today I’m back in my old oversize clothes, all the better to conceal the bump. Except for the fool’s cap – that’s new.
And now I’m just waiting for that giant thump.