24 weeks pregnant with a tear in my eye ...

When I looked at the clock it was 830pm. I had dozed off. I was in bed wrapped in my duvet crunched into a little ball, hugging my tummy to keep it safe.
It was sunny outside and the rays streamed in through the bedroom window. The birds were tweeting and there was a gentle buzz of people enjoying the sun outside.
Late that afternoon I’d had a wobble; a blip in my resolve, a crack in my armour. It had been a normal day of meetings and business. I had been up early and on the go as usual. In the afternoon my energy started to wane and I couldn’t understand why.

As I sat and ate dinner with my partner, a well of emotion flooded me. Like a wave in the ocean it took me by surprise. Mid sentence I started sobbing. I knew what it was because I had felt it before. It was grief and it needed to come out. Grief crying is different to normal crying. It comes from a place that we didn’t know existed before. It’s a deep deep sob that just won’t stay down. My head sank and my shoulders juddered as I sobbed and sobbed. My partner wanted to comfort me but I resisted. I just needed to be left alone with my grief and sob.

There was an important date coming up.

I’m 23 weeks pregnant. It was at 24 weeks that my first baby was born and died.

As I creep towards the threshold it brings back memories.
As I lay in bed I felt my second daughter kicking and growing. She is wriggling about as if to say “mummy I’m alright, just keep going, we can do it”. My partner and I contemplated the size of her feet as my tummy lunged from one side to another. But I knew the size of her feet because they were the same as my first daughters. I have imprints of them in my memory box where I keep all her memories. As I slumbered to my feet to show my partner, it all came flooding back again. I wasn’t with him then and want to be as upbeat as I can but the facts are the facts all I have is foot and hand prints to remind me of Em.

Sometimes when we are in a challenging place we feel like we can’t carry on anymore. After I cried and slept and remembered peacefully, I know that this is different. This daughter is different. This time I’m not in hospital, this time everything is OK, this time I have the picture in my mind of me stroking her to sleep. This time I can see her sleeping peacefully next to us. We have names already planned and little outfits ready for her arrival. She is moving well and communicating to us all. In my head I know it’s different but my heart can tell me otherwise.

When we have to face our fears or doubts the second time around it can be debilitating. It can put us off completely. We can be paralysed with fear to never go there again. When our heart aches so much we can turn tail and run. In our minds there is a niggle that says “what if it works out perfectly”, that tell us to try again.

When things have been tough the first time, vow to do things differently. Take the things that worked out well and the replace the things that didn’t. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome so try a different route but just keep on going.

When the picture of the aim is clear in your mind, you’re unstoppable and strong and can survive even the biggest wobbles.

When the next day emerges all seems calm once again, but as if by some gift from afar I’m stronger, more prepared and more ready to face the day. It’s true what they say the wobbles make us stronger, they are just there to check us and to keep us standing firm. If we acknowledge them whilst they are upon us, finding a way to let them out, then our tank is refuelled once again ready for the next one. Like a tree in the wind it makes our routes stand firmer, like a muscle in the gym it trains us to be fitter.

Learn to love your wobbles as its makes us who we are…..