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I Don’t Know How To Feel About My Pregnancy, and That’s Okay..

1
I have wanted to write about my pregnancy for a while but I never quite know what I want to say. I find it very confusing now to look back on because I just can’t decide how I feel about it. I watch Ozzy laugh hysterically at his daddy when he gets home from work and I know I’d have another one tomorrow in a heartbeat. I see an Instagram picture of a mum on her due date filled with anticipation and I remember how magical that was and realise how badly I miss that.

Then I see an article about pregnancy loss and stillbirth and it fills me with fear

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2
because I can’t imagine that kind of pain. I see a photo of a test with 2 pink lines and I remember the awful first few weeks, obsessively testing to watch it get darker, and I remember my first pregnancy where it didn’t get darker and something felt wrong, then eventually it got lighter and turned into bleeding. I see an early scan photo on mumsnet, and I remember pleading with a clinic to scan me a day before I was 6 weeks pregnant with Ozzy, just incase there was a heartbeat despite the blood. The lovely sonographer who showed me my babys heart
SelfishMother.com
3
beating strongly at 5w6d and told me to always trust my maternal instinct. The follow up scans and the doctors saying ”threatened miscarriage” and the blood running down my leg and being told to assume we had lost the baby. I remember frantically calling private clinics so I could check he was still in there.

I willed my body to show symptoms of pregnancy and then hated when it did. I still throw up from certain smells that take me back to those weeks on end I spent laying unable to move with a sick bucket cursing anyone who told me to try ginger or

SelfishMother.com
4
sickness bands. I remember how spaced out the medication made me but how atleast i could keep down water now. I think about the delight when we told our parents, and the fun we had taking a photo for facebook. I remember knowing we were having a boy before the sonographer even told us, and watching him kick and turn and being terrified because I loved him so much already and I knew that was dangerous, we still had so far to go. We bought some clothes but held off on the big items at first. We talked about names and I watched my bump grow and I loved it
SelfishMother.com
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and I hated it. I went through blood tests and injections and internal scans and exams. I visited two different hospitals countless times when he stopped moving for a while. I read all the books and I took all the vitamins and I watched one born every minute and cried at each birth. I felt sick to my stomach in the mornings if he wasnt moving and I worried when he moved too much. He had hiccups constantly and Google told me this meant a cord issue so I spent months worrying (and it CAN be, and it was in this case but it isn’t always). He engaged early
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and we worried he would come too soon.

Then we got to my due date and we worried he would be stubborn and never come. We said we would never accept induction because i wanted a pool birth and we wanted him to be ready in his own time. We worried about him not moving for the 5th time as I sat attached to a monitor, and we said yes when they showed that his heart rate was dipping and asked to induce me, because we wanted him to be okay. We sat there as my contractions started on their own minutes later, pleased that he was ready and it was time, but

SelfishMother.com
7
terrified that it wasn’t in the way we wanted. My birth plan said no sweeps or exams but I can remember having at least 9.

There was no pool and no music. I let them break my waters even though I had always longed for the excitement of them breaking on their own at home or in the cinema. I spent months imagining calling Tom to ask him to come home because it was time. I imagined labouring at home and excitedly calling the hospital when it was time to go in. I missed out on all of that. I gave birth laying on my back with my legs in stirrups and a

SelfishMother.com
8
suction cup on my babys head. I didn’t get skin to skin, and he wouldn’t feed properly for the first 2 days. I didn’t want to be cut but I was, and I didn’t think I would need drugs but I begged for them. And then he was here and it was wonderful and terrifying and he looked so familiar because I had known his face all along. His name was perfect and he looked wonderfully like neither of us and exactly like himself. And everyday with him is a beautiful adventure. I still long to do it again but at the same time it fills me with dread. I can still
SelfishMother.com
9
taste the sick, feel the heartache and worry, remember the contractions and the pushing and the burning when he crowned and the screaming. I still get an ache in my scar if I walk too far. I feel so much disappointment because didn’t have the labour I wanted but I have the dread of doing it naturally again now I know what the pain of childbirth really is. A few times everyday I simultaneously wish I was pregnant again and also can’t think of anything worse than being pregnant. It’s a long old slog and nothing is ever straightforward, but I realised
SelfishMother.com
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today that it’s ok to not really understand how I feel about my pregnancy. I don’t need an answer or to explain whether I did or didn’t enjoy it. It doesn’t need to be compared to others.

It was what it was, but each time I ask myself or someone asks me how my pregnancy was and if I enjoyed it, my answer will be that Ozzy is here and is wonderful.

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- 24 Apr 17

I have wanted to write about my pregnancy for a while but I never quite know what I want to say. I find it very confusing now to look back on because I just can’t decide how I feel about it. I watch Ozzy laugh hysterically at his daddy when he gets home from work and I know I’d have another one tomorrow in a heartbeat. I see an Instagram picture of a mum on her due date filled with anticipation and I remember how magical that was and realise how badly I miss that.

Then I see an article about pregnancy loss and stillbirth and it fills me with fear because I can’t imagine that kind of pain. I see a photo of a test with 2 pink lines and I remember the awful first few weeks, obsessively testing to watch it get darker, and I remember my first pregnancy where it didn’t get darker and something felt wrong, then eventually it got lighter and turned into bleeding. I see an early scan photo on mumsnet, and I remember pleading with a clinic to scan me a day before I was 6 weeks pregnant with Ozzy, just incase there was a heartbeat despite the blood. The lovely sonographer who showed me my babys heart beating strongly at 5w6d and told me to always trust my maternal instinct. The follow up scans and the doctors saying “threatened miscarriage” and the blood running down my leg and being told to assume we had lost the baby. I remember frantically calling private clinics so I could check he was still in there.

I willed my body to show symptoms of pregnancy and then hated when it did. I still throw up from certain smells that take me back to those weeks on end I spent laying unable to move with a sick bucket cursing anyone who told me to try ginger or sickness bands. I remember how spaced out the medication made me but how atleast i could keep down water now. I think about the delight when we told our parents, and the fun we had taking a photo for facebook. I remember knowing we were having a boy before the sonographer even told us, and watching him kick and turn and being terrified because I loved him so much already and I knew that was dangerous, we still had so far to go. We bought some clothes but held off on the big items at first. We talked about names and I watched my bump grow and I loved it and I hated it. I went through blood tests and injections and internal scans and exams. I visited two different hospitals countless times when he stopped moving for a while. I read all the books and I took all the vitamins and I watched one born every minute and cried at each birth. I felt sick to my stomach in the mornings if he wasnt moving and I worried when he moved too much. He had hiccups constantly and Google told me this meant a cord issue so I spent months worrying (and it CAN be, and it was in this case but it isn’t always). He engaged early and we worried he would come too soon.

Then we got to my due date and we worried he would be stubborn and never come. We said we would never accept induction because i wanted a pool birth and we wanted him to be ready in his own time. We worried about him not moving for the 5th time as I sat attached to a monitor, and we said yes when they showed that his heart rate was dipping and asked to induce me, because we wanted him to be okay. We sat there as my contractions started on their own minutes later, pleased that he was ready and it was time, but terrified that it wasn’t in the way we wanted. My birth plan said no sweeps or exams but I can remember having at least 9.

There was no pool and no music. I let them break my waters even though I had always longed for the excitement of them breaking on their own at home or in the cinema. I spent months imagining calling Tom to ask him to come home because it was time. I imagined labouring at home and excitedly calling the hospital when it was time to go in. I missed out on all of that. I gave birth laying on my back with my legs in stirrups and a suction cup on my babys head. I didn’t get skin to skin, and he wouldn’t feed properly for the first 2 days. I didn’t want to be cut but I was, and I didn’t think I would need drugs but I begged for them. And then he was here and it was wonderful and terrifying and he looked so familiar because I had known his face all along. His name was perfect and he looked wonderfully like neither of us and exactly like himself. And everyday with him is a beautiful adventure. I still long to do it again but at the same time it fills me with dread. I can still taste the sick, feel the heartache and worry, remember the contractions and the pushing and the burning when he crowned and the screaming. I still get an ache in my scar if I walk too far. I feel so much disappointment because didn’t have the labour I wanted but I have the dread of doing it naturally again now I know what the pain of childbirth really is. A few times everyday I simultaneously wish I was pregnant again and also can’t think of anything worse than being pregnant. It’s a long old slog and nothing is ever straightforward, but I realised today that it’s ok to not really understand how I feel about my pregnancy. I don’t need an answer or to explain whether I did or didn’t enjoy it. It doesn’t need to be compared to others.

It was what it was, but each time I ask myself or someone asks me how my pregnancy was and if I enjoyed it, my answer will be that Ozzy is here and is wonderful.

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