It’s been a month. One whole month to the date since I first found out that I was pregnant, but not to the day, that was on Friday.
I realised this morning when I woke up and checked my phone and I realised that it was the 7th. I guess it doesn’t really matter what I’m doing or where I am, some things will just stick with me for a long time.
Like yesterday – it sounds crazy I know, but I wore the jumper that I wore to the clinic for the first time since that day. It was a new jumper, a really nice caramel colour, and that was the first time I wore it. Then and yesterday.
I didn’t even think about it when I picked it up and stuffed t in my bag for after my work meeting. It was just a jumper, the thing I was able to grab quickest from my wardrobe yesterday morning. But when I put it on, it hit me. I remembered how it looked a little bit tight around the stomach when I first wore it, how when I sat down in the clinic I could see my tummy pushing against it. Yesterday that didn’t happen.
I tried so hard not to think about it, I told myself I was just being really silly, that I would wear this jumper 10000s of times more in my lifetime and I can’t always tie it to that one event. To forever taint it with abortion memories and pain and sadness. But now I think I have. Because I was so relived to get it off, it wasn’t even dirty but I threw it straight in the wash. I thought it was crazy that a whole wash/iron cycle has been done since that day, that my clothes are all coming back clean, the underwear I wore over the days after, the pyjamas I stained. Everything has been cleansed and is fresh, ready to be reused. Everything is back to normal, except for me.
I was in a shop today and there was a baby, a really tiny baby, I think it was only a few weeks old, and it had that cry, the newborn cry. I would know that cry anywhere, even though it’s been four years since I had to endure it day after day, night after night. I don’t know if it’s a mum thing, but you just know a newborn cry like the back of your hand.
For a split second, it made me feel sick, and just seeing babies still does that to me. At the minute I’m just avoiding them wherever I can. I avoid serving parents with pushchairs at work, I rush past the baby aisle in Tesco if I can help it and I scroll past cute baby videos on Facebook and instagram, and that wasn’t who I was before, because deep down, I was so broody.
I would watch endless cute videos of babies burping and playing and snoring and smiling just because I could. I would pick up baby clothes and be in awe of how tiny they were and how desperate I was to have one that would fill them and have that baby smell when I snuggled them. I would look into pushchairs at work and make as much conversation as possible about weight and size and how many months they were and if they were sleeping through the night yet. And now I just don’t want to know.
But the thing that’s harder than all of that combined is the baby chat. The talk of another baby coming along after our wedding, or friends talking about babies, or seeing people from work having babies and posting pictures on Facebook. All of the things that feel way too close to home, too tangiable. I’m not ready to plan yet, or to look at babies of friends. There’s this woman that I follow on instagram who is only two weeks ahead of what I would have been, so I’ve been getting into the horrible habit of calculating things, looking back at her pictures from a few weeks ago and knowing that’s where I’d be right now.
I know that I would be two days shy of eight weeks, I would’ve had a prominent tiny bump by now and if that initial morning sickness was anything to go by, I would probably be vomiting morning noon and night at this stage. My cravings would be in full swing and we would be only a month away from our first offical scan, where the doctors would’ve been able to see any immediate problems. But I know that they wouldn’t have, they would’ve seen a perfectly formed 12 week baby, and so would’ve we, just in time for Christmas.
I know I can’t live like this forever, because living in the past isn’t healthy and it won’t make moving on any easier, but I just can’t help it right now, it’s always at the back of my mind, that thing that I did. That thing that I remember at the most random times. That thing that still makes me cry in the shower and that I think about before I fall asleep. That thing that I don’t think I’ll ever fully let go of.