Life is tough. But so am I.

Today I had a brilliant day. A few people have told me today that I seem so much happier. I am. Only tonight, I’ve spent the last hour crying. Because life won’t throw me a break.


If you have been following our journey through miscarriage, you will know that we have decided to take some time off from trying whilst we get all the testing sorted. Having a break has actually been a relief. Such a relief we’ve been happy. And forgetful. So forgetful a couple of weeks ago, as we sat in the car quietly listening to the radio while Boo slept in the back, I realised I was ovulating. Which would be fine. If we were trying. The next few days were filled with my typical exhaustion, extreme thirst and vomiting. Pregnant.


Each pregnancy, my reaction has been different but there has always been joy. This time, it took a little longer to warm up to the idea. We were terrified. I was furious with myself. I also was not up for another first trimester over Christmas. Strangely, my response to this situation has been different – we went quiet. I stopped blogging. Stopped talking. Didn’t tell people. I just needed to get my head around it by myself. After wanting a baby so much to suddenly facing an unexpected pregnancy and being thrown by it … well it was a lot to get my head round.


Days past. We started to come to terms with it. Tendrils of hope started to warm my feelings towards our situation. Joy even. Our happy ending would come sooner than we thought. I still didn’t want to tell anyone. I enjoyed being happy and I didn’t want to see people’s fear. And, I don’t know, I was just scared.


Then the winter bugs rolled in. We got SICK. Not preggo sick but the whole house was wiped out by a horrible bug. I’ve had it the worst. I still haven’t shaken it. In the midst of feeling ill, I couldn’t feel the brain fog of pregnancy. I put it down to having sinusitis but after a few days of my temperature shooting up and down, I got the feeling that things would not work out. I know that colds don’t cause miscarriage, but I also know that my body has become an expert in rejecting pregnancy.


I came to terms with it. Held on to a shred of hope.  And carried on. Keep getting happier. Keep looking forward. But the little bit of hope remained. I was definitely pregnant for a while there, maybe, maybe, maybe we would be lucky enough to keep this one.


Fast forward to today. I still hadn’t tested. Still hadn’t told anyone. Tiny shred of hope. I had a good day. I left the house and went to a busy crowded area. Cooked while Boo napped. Self care queen today. My husband got home just as I was rushing out to meet someone. I decided I had time to spend a penny before I left and I’m glad I did. Blood had soaked through underwear, tights and my denim dress. Soaked. I looked on in horror, while my body went into autopilot and got itself changed and I went out as planned. I got on with my plans. After, I came home and ate the delicious food I prepared. Then finally, when I was ready, I fell apart.


This is not fair.

This wasn’t even supposed to happen this month. I am so angry with myself. And sad. And angry. And sad. This isn’t fair.


Do I call this number 5? Do I write it off as a question mark? Do I ignore it like nothing happened?


As usual, there is a voice telling me what I should be doing. But then there is my voice that can confidently say: I know when I am pregnant. However early. For however long. For some reason, my body is incredibly sensitive and so I am blessed with knowing. So, tonight I let myself cry. Sob. Weep. Because I know that for me to heal from grief, I have to let grief in, I have to let it wash over, I have to go through it. Trying to hide from it, or hold it all together will not help me. Tonight I need to cry. We will see what tomorrow brings. Life is tough. But so am I.




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