One year ago today I was 17 weeks pregnant with our second baby. I was working at Harvard and Highland, dreaming of Thanksgiving and planning the roasted brussel’s sprouts dish I would bring. We were getting ready for our 3rd doctors appointment the next day and feeling pretty confident about it after hearing a heartbeat at the two previous appointments.
That was the last time I enjoyed what I did for a living, my last shift at my dream job. That was the last time I did not have severe anxiety about doctors appointments. That was the last time I looked at holidays as my favorite time of year and something to look forward to. That was the last time I had confidence in my body. The last time I didn’t feel like a disappointment to my husband. That was the last time I wasn’t scared about my ability to have a child.
I wish I could write about how great I feel today, how I am not scared about the doctors appointment we have tomorrow, and the hope I have for my baby girl, but that would be bullshit. I am terrified. This past year has not only taken so much from me but has replaced it with doubt, fear and anxiety. I hate it.
I’ll update about Linden after our doctors appointment tomorrow. I will also find perspective again along with multiple reasons to be grateful for this holiday season. Today though I’m going to miss my dreams, my old realities, and the little boy I never got to meet.