Lil tells… Part 8
The days leading up to the eight-week scan crawled by. I dared not download my baby growth app anymore, calling the midwife for a new intake I postponed for life, and telling my friends was super difficult. I had the idea that everything would bring misfortune and I became almost superstitious about it. Once at the appointment for our first scan, I sit in the same waiting room in the gynecology department of the hospital, and in a situation I had only dreamed of months ago, I have never felt so uncertain. More nervous than ever, I get to sit again in ‘the chair’ of the gynecologist for a scan. Seconds seem to last hours. But yes: there it is, our little one. The image of a beating heart that we fell head over heels in love with last year is once again in my belly. We decide to schedule a scan every week for now as a double-check and are outside the hospital doors in no time with a printout of the scan. ‘Well, this doesn't mean anything yet, huh...’ I immediately start. ‘Last time everything looked ‘good’ at eight weeks too. I'm not falling for it again. I'm waiting for the ten and twelve-week scans,’ I rant in blind panic to my boyfriend. Where I had hoped to have a bit more confidence in my body after seeing the scan, this is far from the case. And I'm afraid it will stay that way for a while. But for now, I try to be grateful. The scan was good. And our baby's heart was beating.
The terrible struggle of ultimate happiness and total panic lasted until the end of the first trimester. After the ten and twelve-week scans, I actually walked out exactly the same as at my very first scan: distrustful. ‘Because yes, during my previous pregnancy, it also went wrong at 13 weeks.’ With ultimately the twenty-week scan on my own (thanks, corona), a good NIPT test, and feeling the little boy (yesaaaaa, it’s a boy), I became day by day more confident in myself and the growth of a healthy baby in my belly. The enjoyment and sharing can finally really begin. Super exciting, but ultimately this was the moment I finally dared to be pregnant. There was babbling on Amayzine, I proudly posed with my baby bump for the camera and celebrated a dream of a baby shower with the sweetest people around me. For the first time, I felt really happy and #blessed to the power of two.
At the beginning of my ‘Lil tells...’ series, I told you about the bench outside, the woman with the dreads and our miscarriages. A moment I still think about often. The bench is right by my house, so I still walk past it often. One day, again walking with my Enzo, I cross her path, we glance into each other's strollers and smile kindly at each other. Until... We both realize who we are. It was goosebumps all over the place. There we stood, both with our sons. Who would have thought? We decide to give each other a hug, swallow our tears, wish each other a nice day, and walk on.
Once home, I realized how grateful I was to her for sharing her story. I didn't know the details, but I didn't feel alone. Never. And that's something I would love to share with everyone who has read my series. I’m here. You are not alone. Really not. I hope to be the woman with the dreads for you from a distance. To give you a hug and tell you to never give up, to be strong for a little longer, and to eventually cross paths during a walk in the park with our little ones. Dear you, dare to dream. Always.
And thank you, thank you, thank you for all the kind words and messages every time after ‘Lil tells...’. Together we are the strongest. You go, girls.
