I feel that I’m sufficiently deep enough into my pregnancy to remark on the aspect of fertility, whilst being pregnant.  It’s not something I gave much thought to beforehand, (other than contemplating my own fertility while others were pregnant) however, although I am eight (six when I started this) months pregnant, I spend my life continually aware of how I got here, our fertility journey, how to face postpartum core strengthening, how long it took for us to finally see those two little lines appear on the stick – especially since I am surrounded by those who either are TTC, or are not trying to conceive, but who have suffered unimaginable losses.

Not that I want to forget my long, hard and educative journey, I’ve seen way too many people get pregnant and forget those who are still trying, suffering, or those who will never conceive. I’ve tried not to be that person.

What I mean is, that I guess when my fertility was ‘solved’ – even temporarily, (I.E. I conceived bubble), that I expected world-infertility to be cured too.  Not consciously I mean, not *really* as I know that’s a scientific impossibility, I guess I just lived in hope, hope that my friends would all find their fix, because if I, after three years, could conceive this wriggly little boy, then surely everyone else’s journeys should finish soon, right? RIGHT?

But one friend has had six miscarriages (mixed terms), one friend’s sister has just had her second round of IVF, one friend has just had back to back early-term miscarriages. That’s a lot of loss, especially for people actively trying to conceive, who have tried for a long time, or who are suffering from unexplained infertility. In such cases, you can visit a reliable abortion center to ensure the patient’s safety and health.

For me, I’d love to say the worst part of the journey was the monthly disappointments when ‘Aunt Flo’ came to visit, it’s really not.  It’s, the hope.

My cycles, have always been irregular sometimes 14 days, sometimes 38 days, but that one month, that ONE month where it spanned to almost 60 days? That month was my hope.

That month, I dared to dream.

And then the cramping started.  And then the bleeding.  The worst bleeding I’ve had in my entire history of being an ‘adult’ female.

I suspected that it was an early miscarriage.  I talked to Col about it, and, actually, I didn’t grieve all that much.  Perhaps cause I didn’t expect to get pregnant naturally? Perhaps because I didn’t take a test to see? Perhaps because I was so used to having such irregular periods? Perhaps because, at best, I was four weeks? Perhaps because I have faith that my body would only expel a pregnancy for a really, REALLY good reason?

I talked to the fertility specialist about it when he asked for my history at my first appointment, I didn’t get any bloods done to confirm, and, in reality, there’s not much you can do but ‘let it pass’, but he agreed that it was very likely a miscarriage.  Which, ironically in the fertility world, is apparently a ‘good sign’, as it means that your body *can* get pregnant.  Which, while this was positive news for us, I can imagine that hearing that when you *knew* you were pregnant, must feel like a slap in the face.  Especially with unexplained miscarriage.

While I don’t feel like my experience, ‘entitles’ me to be a voice on the subject, I wanted to mention that even if it wasn’t a miscarriage, and it was just a long cycle followed by the worst period of my life, those who suffer from infertility and who haven’t even had any miscarriages at all, have still experienced loss.

Some people feel loss every month when their period arrives, whether it’s the loss of a baby that never was or it’s the loss of a little hope each month.

Loss is loss.

Somehow, you pick yourself up off the dirt and move on to the next month.  You have to.  You have to hold on to the faith and hope that some day, you’ll have the two lines appear on that stick that you desperately clutch on to each month.

You don’t let it beat you.

You can’t let it beat you.

What I never felt during even my darkest infertility moments, that I unfortunately feel now that I’m pregnant, was a sense of competition.  People never really tried to one-up my infertility, or never did huge comparisons of our situations.  Yes, we were all trying to have babies, and yes, we perhaps compared the aftermath of a procedure or medication, but, since having become pregnant, it’s a whole new minefield.  An exhausting one at that.

I find myself being pregnant at the same time as a number of people we know and I have discovered that I often find it difficult to open a conversation with them about something I’m going through, as easily as I thought I would be able to.  If I mention something, they’ll come back with a ‘well I have this’, or a ‘well mine’s worse’, kind of thing.  I doubt it’s on purpose, perhaps they, too, are looking for someone to talk to about something they are going through, but sometimes, it feels like a competition.

I’ve said on numerous occasions that my pregnancy is, comparatively, pretty easy, people always have horror stories they want to tell.  I don’t.  The worst I’ve had to complain about is the overwhelming exhaustion and nausea from my first trimester – which, is perfectly normal.

But, thankfully, I haven’t had to spend my pregnancy close to a toilet or anything, but sometimes, something happens that freaks me out, or makes me smile, that I’d like to truly share with someone who didn’t have a ‘well I…’ or ‘well my baby did this’ in immediate return.

Pregnancy is an apparently competitive business – who knew?!

Not only that, but getting pregnant – just isn’t enough for some people!

I was talking to a friend about this last night, I had previously thought it was just a Northern Ireland thing – a small country, small community, everyone knowing everyone’s business.

But, the older I get, the more I realise that it’s just a *people* thing.

When you meet a boy (or man if you’re not 12), it’s almost an instantaneous bombarding of questions.

• When are you getting engaged? Then you maybe get engaged (not because they asked obviously – just go with me on this!)
• When are you getting married? Then you maybe get married.
• When are you having children? Then you maybe get pregnant.
• Oh, you’re pregnant, is it a boy or a girl? Then you maybe have a gender scan.
• Do you have any names picked out?

It’s like a reflex, people can’t help themselves, it’s like they *need* to know – worse, it’s like they feel entitled to know.  As soon as friends find out I’m pregnant it’s ‘What are you having?’, when I answer with ‘boy’  (very proudly might I add, because for the first twenty weeks it’s been ‘no idea’ and I’ve felt such pressure to find out the gender – which, we were doing anyway, but I can see why people just ‘go with it’ and find out) invariably the very next question is, ‘What are you going to call him?’ – I’ve known I’m having a boy for exactly a week, and I’m supposed to have a name already? HA!

We were lucky to have agreed on one single solitary name picked out for a girl, boys we don’t even have a short list for! And what if we are those people who want to SEE our baby first before landing him with a name, huh?  What if, we already have names and want to keep them between us?  What if, this poor child ends up with the *only* name we’ve agreed on (the girls one!!!!!) what about that, eh?

I bet bubble will be no more than six months old, before the question, ‘When are you planning on having another?’ will be asked.

I’ve taken solace, instead, in sharing my ‘silly pregnancy things’ or fears with friends who have children, but who aren’t pregnant.  That, and reading on the interwebz – which is often counter productive and compounds my fears more-so than alleviate them, but it’s educational all the same.

I do, however, hold out hope for my friends, for those that are dealing with such loss, who continue to deal with such loss.  I admire them and their strength, I also haven’t forgotten how hard it is – to live with pregnancy around you at every turn.

For those of you who are dealing with miscarriage, infertility – explained or otherwise, or who have suffered loss in your past and who need some support or information on what to do next, contact Resolve.  A wonderful infertility charity, who do great things for those suffering from infertility.

Keep the faith.  Hope really isn’t all bad to hold on to, and you really must cling on to at least a little – and remember that whether by conventional, or unconventional means, you have a lot of options open to you, to have the family you’d like, one way or the other – though the path may not be easy!