I’m still in a state of shock as I write this. Thinking that The Toddler would be the last bump, the last baby, the last journey. But I guess we get to ride this one out a little longer after all. I haven’t booked in with the GP or a midwife yet. I haven’t told anyone either. In the days since this:
I have even forgotten at times that this is really happening. Apart from today.
Today is full of nausea. Breathlessness. Headaches. Stomach cramps. Exhaustion. A dull, thick head. A sense of tiredness sweeping through every single bone in my body. I am 36. I have already carried three babies. I am to do it all again, with a body less young, less willing. But a spirit that is determined, just as it was nine years ago.
I am feeling blessed, despite the sickness and the nagging fear that is spiralling away in the pit of my stomach. I know so well of all the things that can go wrong; I know that there can be no reassurances. I know of all the things I have to fear, to fight for. But I also know that I am lucky. I have a poppy seed of hope inside.
There is not much to report at 6 weeks. All is fairly quiet, we are awaiting the storm. Let’s hope this journey is not too bumpy.