Lately people say to me, “and how are you going? Are YOU ok?” and every syllable that rolls off their tongue is weighted with the word ‘miscarriage’
And I don’t know what to say. I am ok. I guess. Sometimes I’m not. And is it ok to be ok by now? Because this was not my first and I have two happy, healthy boys to remind me that I am blessed with life every day. I’ll never be fully ok with it, but I move. I keep moving. And when you’re a mum you know how easy that is.
Last night I bunkered down under a soft blanket and watched Knocked Up. I’ve never seen it and I usually hate stupid funny. I’m more a witty/quirky humorous banter type of person. But that movie made me laugh. It was bordering on too crude but it was funny…until the end.
My brain mostly ignored the fact that she gave birth to a baby that looked old enough to play football, because it was stuck on the faces of the parents – they perfected that moment of relief and joy when the pain finally washes away and you’re left with a perfect bundle in your arms. It looked so familiar, it resonated with me. I needed to tell myself this was a movie, and child birth happens in movies all the time so I better train myself not to cry every single time. Or maybe I will just roll with it and cry. It felt good in a way.
At 5am I fed Jeremy for the 3rd time that night. Yep. 14 months and nowhere near sleeping. I don’t even care. I looked down at him and just wished him to stay the same, just a little bit longer.
He communicates with lots of finger pointing and baby noises now. The other day he passed me his plate and repeated after me “no more”. I was floored. Where on Earth did my baby go? As long as he can still fit his entire body curled up under my neck with his head on my chest then he is still my baby.
He can still do that. And he still will, for just that little bit longer…