What I hadn’t realised about miscarriage is that there isn’t a button that you click and suddenly everything is erased.
Once you’ve gone through the physical process you then have to deal with the practical side.
You have to cancel the appointments you had made, tell the few people you had confided in and delete pictures of positive pregnancy tests from your phone. Or in my case remove the positive test strip from my rail card holder after it snuck out in a work meeting and sat there looking up at me, reminding me.
This weekend coming feels a bit funny. Not because we haven’t got back on an even keel but because we should have been hitting 12 weeks and telling people. We had scans booked and the so on.
And now we don’t.
In many ways, this break with just the four of us is exactly what we all needed.
This summer week on the Island has been a bit of a milestone in each of the last 4 years.
Four years ago I had assumed I’d failed to fall pregnant whilst actually being pregnant with Bigger. I didn’t realise that the growing boobs meant anything and instead drove down in a hideous rain storm and ended up picking up Mr Muddling in the middle of the night after he had some epic journey disaster. I remember working out that my sister in law was pregnant again. For the third time. And I wasn’t and being a touch fed up about it.
Three years ago we had our first holiday here with Bigger – we were just getting used to being a family and I remember spending Mr’s birthday having lunch in his favourite pub and then coming back to lie in the garden and soak up the sun. It was lovely.
Two years ago was beastly. A low point. A rush to the local maternity unit as Littler tried to arrive. Again. And spending an evening confined to bed whilst everyone else went out and had fun.
Last year was better than that but suffered from the fact that Mr and I were still miles apart. Both still struggling with the after effects of that awful pregnancy and the shocks it put through our marriage and then the difficulties of living with a high needs baby plus an 18 month old who really wasn’t impressed at the new addition to the family.
But here we are – this year is good.
This year I step back and look at Mr Muddling cuddling our girls as he reads to them and my heart sings. I watch them playing on the beach and am happy. I swim in the sea with Bigger and despite being frozen know that this is a good moment.
Life is good and perhaps the silver lining of all of this is that we are better as a family.
Mr and I are closer, more contented, perhaps even more in tune.
We are all ok and this thing is a blip that will be only a tiny bump in the fabric of our lives when we look back.
We haven’t decided what to do next – that’s for after our holidays when we get back to reality.
But here, today, life is good and I am lucky to be here, surrounded by my family.