When I was first asked to write this blog, I hoped by some miracle, it would jinx me into becoming pregnant. It worked for so many other bloggers - especially those who decided to be "out" about their experiences and not write under a pseudonym.
Never in my wildest dreams did I actually think it would happen to me, but dear readers, I am thrilled to tell you, it did.
I am pregnant.
But the readers of this blog have only read a small portion of what it took to get here. Reading the few entries might suggest to some readers that I am one of those who got lucky first time, but I was blogging about my sub-fertility long before Essential Baby asked me to do it for realz.
So there you go. I am pregnant. I can't belive I am writing those three words. I can still hardly bring myself to say it because it seems so unreal. If it wasn't for my obvious bump, my massive boobs, the constant headache and the lack of interest in champagne, I wouldn't believe it.
But it's true. I have not one, but two little fetuses (fetii??) squriming around inside - sucking their thumbs, kicking, waving and generally having a party in my abdomen. It's really cool.
But at the same time, I feel like I'm in some kind of limbo land. I was comfortable in my infertility. I
didn't like it, but I knew a lot about it, there was always something to read, and it was kind of like being
part of a club, albeit one nobody wanted to be a member of. But now I am just one of the flock.
I'm not even special at the hospital where I am treated like any other pregnant woman. But I'm not. I look around at all the other women there - and of course I don't know if they had fertility treatment or not - and I want to stand at the front of the clinic and tell them just how long and hard the road was for me to get to be there with them. Of course I don't, and I sit there and blog about it instead on my iPhone.
I don't feel the sense of closure, or satisfaction, or completion that I thought I would feel if I ever got pregnant. I don't love my fetii - to be honest, I don't even think about them very much. Maybe I even resent them a little for being so sick in the early weeks. I didn't cry when I got the good news from the clinic, or when I saw the first ultrasound either, and I worry that years of disappointment has conditioned me to feel nothing, when I should feel amazing and maternal, or at least grateful.
But I am glad, and happy, and I wouldn't change a thing.
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