We decided to start trying for a baby at the beginning of 2015, so I also decided I’d keep a journal and write in it every day. My plan was to hand it over to my daughter one day to show her what pregnancy and birth was like and how she first entered the world.
When I fell pregnant in March with an early December due date, the dream had become a reality. I could document every step of the way, ending with the fantastic December birth day finale. How neat is that?
But life doesn’t always go to plan. At a routine 9 week scan we were told the baby no longer had a heartbeat and that I was going to miscarry.
On Mothers Day in May I mourned the loss of my baby and bared all to the pages of my journal.
In September I found out I was pregnant again. This one was going to be the one! I wrote all about it in my journal, the hopes and the dreams. There’d been a setback but this time we were ready.
Then at just 5 weeks pregnant, on Fathers Day, I started to bleed. And we lost that baby too.
I fell into a depression. Some days I found it hard to move. Every day I wrote about it in my journal. I wrote about the pain and the negative thoughts and the inability to see any joy in the world.
The very next month, I discovered I was pregnant again. And here I am. Pregnant and terrified, but stronger and more resilient. Whatever the outcome I know I will manage through it.
It’s almost the end of the year, and I’m getting close to the end of my journal. The original dream to have my full pregnancy and birth documented is no longer an option, and the chance of miscarriage again is high.
But, what I realised this week is that the story in my journal, the story of hurt and grief and disappointment, is far more interesting that the ‘perfect pregnancy’. This is the story people will actually read. The story that truly reflects the ups and downs of every day life and death.