I haven’t been able to write for a while. In fact, it’s been hard to keep my mind focused on anything for more than a minute or two. Just this afternoon I decided to make toast, well a tuna/cheese toastie to be precise. I stood, watched it start to cook. Almost as soon as it started to brown I left the room! Needless to say I returned to black smoke and a disintegrated toastie, though this was no worse than when I picked up the pan of soup and actively poured it across the hob as I ‘checked the texture’…
We had a scare on Monday. Blood. Red gushing blood and lots of it. It didn’t seem real. To have got so far, 37 weeks pregnant; the fear it was all going wrong then, now, terrified me. I can’t imagine a world without my baby in it. He exists already, his spirit’s in the bathroom with the rubber ducks waiting to entertain him, he’s in the clothes folded neatly or in those waiting to be ironed. He’s in the freezer packed with food to give me time to devote my whole self to him in those first precious weeks. My little boy, who’s not even a babe, surrounds me, encompasses me; completes me. The thought that maybe, something.. I can’t put it into words.
And since then I can’t concentrate. I need to hold this baby, our son needs to be born and in our arms because I don’t feel like I can keep him safe anymore. As a Mum that’s your job, right. To protect your child from harm, to prevent anything going wrong. That’s your job. But what if I can’t? What if my body rebels against me, the placenta drops as the doctor fears and puts him in danger, puts me in danger, leaves G alone… I’m scared now. And I don’t feel right. I hurt and ache in more places than my heart, my son feels heavy in my womb and my stomach’s in knots. I’m scared my prayers aren’t enough.
But there’s nothing to do but wait. Wait. Inject the daily medication and swallow the iron. Rest when I can and tidy when I can’t. Read the koran and post-natal guidance. Seek wisdom from a higher ground. And remember that while I wait, G’s waiting too. And he’s scared too even though he’s too into protecting me than to admit it out loud. There’s nothing to do but wait, but together not alone. Our baby completes more than just me, our baby completes us and is the reason we’re here right now. So I’m going to try to write. Whether it makes sense or not. Because sometimes simply to put it all out there is all you need.
Pregnancy’s a rollercoaster, up and down through the trimesters you go; at times flying higher than the clouds and at times dipping down below. But there are times too when the coaster goes off the rails and spins you round. And that’s when I need to blog the most – that’s when it has to come out.