Hopes and Fears

I really hope that, this time next year, I am a mummy.

It took us a mere five months to conceive, but it felt like a lifetime. It’s nothing really and we are very lucky. I feel so lucky.

However the fear of something going wrong is very real. Although I know the odds are in our favour. 5% chance of a miscarriage, and only 3% for us because I’ve already had one. I keep telling myself that everything should be fine, but that doesn’t stop me worrying endlessly that it won’t.

The twelve weeks scan is my ultimate goal at the moment, I cannot think past that. I cannot wait to have a scan. I have broken up the first trimester into mini-goals. Next milestone is 8 weeks, then 10 weeks, then 12 weeks. Seems more manageable in little chunks. Time seems to be passing really slowly right now and absolutely nothing feels real.

Initially I was so elated. Now I'm more scared and impatient for progress. Still very happy of course, but it’s a cautious happiness, as if being too happy will tempt fate.

I am worried about telling people. We’ve told our parents and my work know. My husband’s boss. Some of my online friends. It seems like too many. It doesn’t feel real enough for that many people to know yet. But maybe telling more people makes it more real?

When I went to the doctor, I somehow expected that she would ‘do’ something to make it official. I have no idea what. However it didn’t even get put into the system while I was there in the room. I hope she didn’t forget about it after I left.

I cannot wait for my booking in appointment, just to feel like the ball has started rolling. Progress. We’ll be a bit closer to the scan then, and to hearing a heartbeat. God I hope there is a heartbeat.

I have so many fears for the future.

Will I be a good mum?

Will I like it?

How hard will going back to work be?

How will my marriage change?

Will my child love me? Will they even like me?

It’s scary. I haven’t always been sure I wanted children. It’s a subject around which I have flip-flopped. Have I made the right decision? Is there any such thing? I want it, in my bones, but my mind is much more erratic.

It feels like I am the first woman to do this, how truly ridiculous!