One born every minute...

Watch One Born Every Minute they said, its really good they said.  So I am........ oh my goodness.  That coupled with reading a blog about someone who is pregnant and documenting their journey has turned me into an emotional wreck. It's started me thinking far too much .......

I'm really rubbish at being pregnant.

My first pregnancy lasted about 6-7 weeks.  It was upsetting, but at the time I told myself it was for the best.  I hadn't really had chance to get to used to the idea it was there before it was gone.  I'm not saying that I didn't care.  But I came to terms with it.  Its really hard to put into words really,  I grieved, but if I'm honest the timing would have been dreadful and I got my head round it by convincing myself that fate had stepped in.

My next pregnancy didn't have the best start.  I didn't even realise I was pregnant until I was almost 8 weeks and I'd injured my back quite badly at work when unbeknown to me I was already pregnant. To cut a long story short I only managed to get this pregnancy to just over 35 weeks too. But I loved being pregnant, loved feeling the baby move inside me. Despite finding out half way through that I'd been carrying twins but one hadn't survived, I did manage to produce one, eventually healthy, baby girl.

She was breech presentation and so born by emergency caesarean as I went into premature labour. In some ways it's a good job she was the wrong way up or she'd probably have been born at 32 weeks, which was when I first started having contractions. Due to a bit of gestational diabetes she was a hefty baby for her term, 6 pounds 9 ounces, but unfortunately not healthy. So she spent the first two weeks of her life tucked up in SCBU. Not that you'd know it to look at her now! She's almost 15 and taller than me!

My last pregnancy is one of my biggest regrets, and greatest sadnesses. It wasn't planned, and was quite a shock I can tell you. But I knew almost straight away, which I never had before. I had this one till 14 weeks, but because I knew almost from the point of conception it felt like much longer. I had hardly any sickness, the total opposite of the time before, but he sat on my bladder the whole time, so I was constantly aware he was there. He (or she) would have been 10 in October last year. Or maybe August/September given my track record.  I'm very thankful for the beautiful, intelligent daughter I have, however I often think about what might have been, I guess that's natural.  I shed a tear or two for him every October 15th (the day he'd have been due), maybe I always will?