The anticipation of an ultrasound is really hard. The anxiety can get pretty thick. But the payoff – a good ultrasound showing a live, healthy baby – is so worth it. I have been so happy today, so full of joy and excitement. Every time we confirm the baby is still alive I think, maybe this will work. Maybe this one will live. And for a little while I actually entertain notions of birthing this baby, of holding him or her in my arms, of watching my husband hold his child. Hope lives alongside this baby. And I need confirmation that it’s still living – that there’s still reason to hope.

A loss changes the way you view your life. You walk into every appointment not knowing what the outcome is going to be – and you see both options very clearly. There are no assumptions. Lots of hopes, lots of, “Well, it SHOULD be fine…” but you’re never really quite sure. You can’t take it for granted anymore, you’ve been on the other side. But when you do walk out of a completely normal appointment with a picture of your little one and no bad news you feel like you just won the lottery. You go to bed at night thankful that you made it one more day.

I’m still struggling to get used to the idea of me carrying my second child. It still seems unfathomable. I remember so clearly my time with Devin – and I never had a day’s problem accepting that I was pregnant with my first child. So now, to be pregnant again, with another baby, a different baby… not Devin. My brain is still trying to catch up. I can’t say I feel dissociated from this little one – I certainly feel emotionally overwhelmed when I look at his/her picture. But there is some holding back of my heart, some wariness, some caution that didn’t exist last time. I feel pregnant, with all the nausea, but yet I can’t feel the baby at all. It’s just so weird to know that you’re carrying this living being inside you where you can’t see it, can’t feel it. I want to be able to see some limbs sticking out, to feel some movement. It still feels like a little ghost inside me.

I’m really struggling to put into words all that I feel this time around. I’m overwhelmed. With fear, with joy, with sadness – and it’s all wound together, there are no clear cut lines.

But today I am happy.