Nano

This post has been coming for awhile. I think. I'm still not sure I have anything coherent, or even specific, to say, but I feel the need to say something. I miss Nano.

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I just cried, as I wrote that, for the first time since I saw that little blob with a distinct lack of a heartbeat. For a week or so now I've felt 'fine'. Actually fine, so fine that I wondered why I was so okay with this. I told myself it was easier 'cause I have 2 bubbas at home already, it would be harder to drive home in an empty car to a lonely house. It was easier 'cause I hadn't felt Nano kick yet, that would make it harder, would make the connection more real. But it still felt weird, I felt sort of guilty that I wasn't really grieving, more just biding my one month waiting period until I was allowed to get pregnant again.

Now I guess I was biding my time. Not studying. Not thinking. Just being with the kids. Waiting for the grief to hit. I kept thinking I should write something, but until today it was for Nano, for the future, to have a record of him/her, and for others who read this blog. Today I just wanted to write, for me, to say something. To recognise Nano, who followed Bean and Dot, but didn't become more.

There are so many reminders. I read today a post written by a Mum who lost a baby, who just can't understand those people who tell others of the their pregnancies when the second line turns blue. I am one of those people. I had already signed up to receive weekly pregnancy updates from Baby Centre. I had written on my wall calender each week of the pregnancy, with a big 'Nano arrives' on November 7th. I had told the Director of Undergraduate Studies that I would probably need to sit my exams in January because I would be having a baby in November. The other day I was chatting to a good friend about how awkward it was having to tell people I was no longer pregnant (yes, that was my mindset, not hard to talk about without crying, just awkward). She has a very direct way of speaking that I appreciate and recognise as mirroring my own. It's honest, without the crap that a lot of people feel the need to coat difficult words in. She said 'yeah, that's why people don't announce their pregnancy straight away, I guess you just got a little cocky after two easy pregnancies'.

Despite all that, and my absolute refusal to give credence to superstitions, I think I will still tell people when I get pregnant next time. Not to, when I always have before, seems to be admiting that something bad might happen. And it won't. I have a great pregnancy record. I carry babies easily. I have good genes in this department. And I've now had my 1 in 3.

Although, maybe I won't tell as many people. 1 in 3 is, after all, the risk for every pregnancy. Just 'cause I've had one doesn't mean that my 1 in 3 isn't still there for the next. Or, more accurately, now that I have had one I am ... what? wounded? wiser? more anxious? a little apprehensive? maybe just more aware a pregnancy doesn't necessarily mean an addition to the family. I will be reminded of this every time I have to fill in a medical questionaire that asks 'have you ever been pregnant? how many times? number of children?'.