I spent last weekend at a women's retreat, which I organized months ago for a group from my church. We had a great time, and I managed to hide the fact that I wasn't drinking any wine by telling people that I had given up alcohol for Lent. Handy season, Lent.
However, you get a group of 30 women together and there is bound to be a whole lot o' conversation about children, birth, conception, and gynecological topics of all sorts. Nobody knew I was pregnant, so there was no need for them to be careful, and let me tell you: I heard horror stories the likes of which I really, really did not need to hear. At all.
Much of the time, I'm experiencing a great sort of zen about the pregnancy. The nausea is increasing, though not at a terrible rate. Boobs still sore. (Poking still abounds.) I am hungry all. the. time.
But I'm not zen all the time. Sometimes, when I think about the ultrasound in a week (10 days, to be exact), my heartbeat stops for a second. I imagine the doctor saying, in a sad voice, "I'm sorry; there's no heartbeat." I imagine trying to get out of the office without sobbing. I imagine my husband's heartbreak. I don't think about this a lot, but it's the sort of thing that pops into my head at 3am when I've gotten up to pee (again) and can't quite get back to sleep.
So, I could use a favor. If you have stories of yourself or others who have experienced pregnancy loss, or some terrible complication: please, don't tell me. Please don't mention it in a comment. There was such a comment on my last post, and while I'm sure it was not meant to hurt, believe me: I don't need any help scaring the shit out of myself. I'm perfectly capable of doing that on my own. I can't comment privately to that person because their blog is private, and it's not really about one person anyway: I'm just making my own personal public service announcement.
This blog just needs to be a happy place. Feel free to think of me as an unrealistic Pollyanna, but it's what I need. Thanks.