Everyone already believes that this pregnancy is going to make it.
Except me, my husband, and our doctor. Even she's hesitant.
We have a heartbeat; we've reached 7 and a half weeks.
And yet... that doesn't really mean anything.
My sister is visiting from across the country, so we went out to lunch with our mother today. It was nice, until they started talking about this pregnancy. And they started talking about it as if it were going to succeed, wondering if it's going to be a boy or a girl, going on about how amazing it is they start so small. It was like an ordinary conversation, and yet... I was fidgeting, hoping they'd change the subject.
But they kept talking... until my sister asked if were were going to find out the gender, and I answered "Yeah, if it's still alive."
Everyone keeps saying "this one is going to stay, I know it," "this is it," "you're going to have a baby," and yet... when we're done talking, and we say our goodbyes, I start crying.
Not because it's amazing, or this is "finally" happening... but because this can end. Because all the others ended. Because I can never share in their naitivity. Because it hurts, their joy hurts, their assumptions hurt.
People talking about pregnancy has been hard on me for a long time, who'd have thought that conversations about my own pregnancy would be so hard for me too?
I can take joy in today, sure, but I can never take joy in something that hasn't happened yet. Getting excited about finding out the gender or having an actual baby? Sorry, I can't do that. I just want to get through today.