Eight time lucky… 🤞🏻🤞🏻

I had my twelve week scan today.  I have been been anxious about it.

During Covid I went for a twelve week scan - Toby wasn’t allowed in, social distancing - so I went in on my own.  There was no heartbeat.

The poor woman had to tell me that my baby was dead, both of us wearing masks, and I had to try and deal with it alone until I made it outside to the car park and had to tell Mole what had happened.

I have had seven miscarriages now.  Each one searing agony.  Emotionally and physically.  I was blue lighted to Dorchester hospital with one because I was bleeding so badly.

I don’t say this for sympathy.  I say it to share.  For anyone who thinks they are going through a similar tragedy alone.  You are not alone.  I think the statistics are that one in three pregnancies end in miscarriage.  It’s just that no one talks about it.

This little broad bean has had quite an exciting start to life.  He (we all know he’s going to be a boy 😂) has survived the celebrations of my fortieth birthday (🫣) and then he was bounced around like a margarita in a cocktail shaker in Patagonia for eight days.

But so far, so good.  He has a little heartbeat.  He has two arms and legs.  A brain.  A little nose.

I am waiting to get blood test results back to check if he’s healthy.  I am a geriatric mother 🤦🏽‍♀️ so there’s now more stuff to worry about.

I am not a natural earth mother.  I feel sick for months.  I can hardly get out of bed in the morning.  I pile on weight.  I am terrified of giving birth again.  I put my keys in the fridge.  Milk in the cupboard.  (Pony in the kitchen).

With Merlin I think I had prenatal depression.  I was absolutely mental for about three months.  Toby and I almost got divorced after three months of marriage - oops).

With Pippin I was parallel to the ground for eight months.  Unable to be a mother.  Unable to do anything.  Luckily Toby has the patience of a saint!!

And, boy, it is so worth it when you get that little bundle at the end.

If you’re trying for a bubba and things are not going to plan.  I hope this might give you something to think about.  (And things could be worse, I promise.  Imagine if you’d been married to Henry VIII)

I thought I would not be able to carry another child.  We had stopped trying - I had lost all the weight I’d accumulated over the years being pregnant - I had moved on to my next chapter.  I was excited about it.  Then it happened.  And I’m so grateful for the curve ball.

I wanted to share - just like my brave husband has about addiction - because if I can help one person, as Toby says, it makes sense out of the suffering.