I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of November. It was a dream come true. Love, wedding then baby.
I was so excited I told everyone. So did my hubby. People were a bit shocked I'd broken the 12-week rule, but at 38 I was overjoyed to be carrying a child for the first time in my life. It had to be all OK. We loved each other and wanted a baby so much.
I'm glad now we did.
We had just got married and I'd received the little livret de famille or family book with empty pages for each baby and ready to be filled. It felt so natural that I'd fall pregnant straightaway.
The first few weeks were tougher than I'd expected. I didn't feel very me.
Tired, withdrawn, fat and spotty. I accepted it was part of the process of putting the baby first but I was shocked that my body was taking such a battering.
I realised that this is what motherhood is about. Putting yourself second, at the key moments.
I tried to keep up my old life, but felt so exhausted I'd fall asleep on the gym bike and as for sexy fashion I started to dress in flat shoes and chasuble style tents, as my husband put it. I wanted to bury myself in cotton wool.
Then I started to get used to the idea and felt a bond forming. We put our house on the market to find somewhere else for the whole family.
I had had an appointment at an obstetrician who did an early scan and was a bit dubious about what he saw. A perfectly formed baby sack, but no baby.
The sight of the empty sack was ominous. I had to do another scan in 10 days. He wrote down on my report that there was no "viable fetus." I felt crushed. I hadn't made a baby, but I was pregnant still. Surely the baby must be somewhere.
The next few weeks were hard as my body seemed to be blooming. Boobs fuller than before, a little tummy and even stretch marks. I let myself dream about names Ellinor Emma Harriet. Rufus Percy Archie.
I then went for a second opinion from a lovely female doctor. Surrounded by feminine photos and soft furnishings she made me feel at ease at once.
She gently scanned me. But there was the empty baby bag again.
But still no baby.
My doctor tried to reassure me saying that one in five women go through the same.
I felt every emotion in the same moment. Distressed that something had happened to the baby. Distraught for me and my beau. Scared about having to miscarry. A failure that I couldn't produce a child.
Yet in all of this I felt some form of peace that I knew now what it takes to be a good mum. I had gone to the edge of knowing.
I had changed my diet, only used bio products and cut down on excessive stuff of before. I had read books, blogs and blurbs.
But actually being a good mum is being patient and accepting what is thrown your way. It's staying calm for your baby when something bad crops up. And that my inner-voice had known all along.
Because actually deep down I felt something wasn't quite right. I was overprotective and desperate to prove I was a good mum so I didn't accept the situation. There was no baby but I didn't want to stop being pregnant and miscarry.
Nature is a powerful force and if the baby never incarnated, it wasn't meant to be.
I am writing this blog because I had never heard much about miscarriages before. They are kept quiet as painful experiences. But as I had shouted from the rooftops about being pregnant I can also talk openly and publicly about what happens when it doesn't work out.
I dedicate this blog to all the mums to be who have lost their babies prematurely. My experience was nothing compared to others' experiences. But I had a taste of what they must have felt when losing a child at four, five or more months. The deep sense of loss, failure, desolation. I hope for all including me that something more positive will come about.
I guess I had my pregnancy test-run. I know the lay of the land now. I am ready for the next time, if it is meant to be.
This blog was originally published on 12/17/2011 but is being re-featured for HuffPost Global Motherhood
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