‘It's a strange mixed feeling’
The life of Tess Hoens is amazing, but getting pregnant didn't go as she had thought. Because there is already enough of a facade and because honesty helps, she writes about how her pregnancy is going. This week she gains a little more confidence.
The positive test has happened. I feel happy, but it still feels very unreal. My parents, who are on vacation but with whom I always like to share everything immediately, are FaceTimed a few minutes after the test. ‘Mom? Are you still comfortably in bed? Where's dad, call him over too.’ I can see from her face that she finds it strange right away. First of all, we never do FaceTime and secondly, we always chat for at least ten minutes before I would ask about my father. Nothing against my father, but god, my mother and I can talk a lot on the phone.
Dad's face appears on the screen and we tell them about the positive test. I don't think I dare to say the words ‘I'm pregnant’, so that's why we talk about the positive test. That's how it feels. Logically, there is no hysterical joy on the other end of the line; everyone is a bit cautious. At one point, my father says: ‘Well, if it goes wrong again, at least you know it can happen.’ That comment immediately rubs me the wrong way (even though I think about a possible miscarriage every millisecond myself). ‘Yeah dad, that's not how I'm going into this! And besides, I already knew it could happen. I was pregnant last year, remember?!’ He doesn't say much more back, knowing that he is not very tactful in these matters and I am very sensitive. We end the conversation happily, but it's a strange mixed feeling.
I really want to inform my friends right away. Because they are my friends who have supported me throughout the whole process. But I also don't know how. Then I tell it, we all react a bit flat and what's the fun in that? For a moment I consider only informing everyone after I have given birth to a healthy child, when there is obviously good news. But coincidentally, a group of friends comes to have lunch that afternoon. ‘How's it going with the hospital?’ someone asks, referring to my hormone treatment. And a grin appears on my face. ‘It's going in the right direction, I have a good chance, they said yesterday.’ I wasn't in the hospital yesterday at all, but this way I provide a positive message that perhaps somewhat explains the grin on my face. They suspect nothing. Later in the afternoon, another friend comes by, one of my best. I know I can't keep my mouth shut around her. I also don't want to keep my mouth shut around her. I would love to drag her by the arm into my bedroom to reveal my secret, but that would be quite noticeable.
Everyone is gone, except for my best friend. ‘I need to tell you something but I don't quite know how I feel about it. I'm scared.’ ‘Are you pregnant?’ she asks. ‘Yes...’ She doesn't get hysterical but lovingly takes my hand and calmly says: ‘I'm very happy for you, and you'll be fine. This time it will be okay, I feel it.’ That's nonsense, she can't know that. But it makes me feel good. I gain a little more confidence.
