It’s a New Year but it’s not quite a new me. Not yet.
I have my appointment tomorrow with the recurrent miscarriage clinic. I officially suffer from “recurrent miscarriages”. I hate that this is an issue for me. I find it so hard to stay positive sometimes. All my family and friends keep saying “Don’t worry, it will happen eventually. It will happen when the time is right, when you least expect it”.
I guess that’s supposed to make me feel better, but I just smile and nod while secretly seething on the inside; frustrated at their total lack of understanding.
Everybody seems to feel the need to come and tell me about their neighbour/sister/daughter/cousin/niece who’s trying for her 7th baby or just announced she’s pregnant after she forgot to take her pill that one day. Sometimes I imagine saying to them that while it’s lovely news, I can’t be overly happily as I’ve sadly lost 3 babies. I imagine their smiling faces dropping. I imagine them not being able to look me in the eye; not knowing how to cope with their guilt. Of course, I only imagine it. The good that’s in me lets them enjoy their moment. They’re entitled to be happy.
I know I would be.