I am not sure I could quite sum up the sheer multitude of feelings which washed over me upon seeing those two lines. One which was oh so faint, it was almost possible to imagine that it was a trick of the light…
The front runners were the excitement of becoming a parent again, and the fear of how ill I felt last time and that history would repeating itself. Memories which I had evidently buried since my last pregnancy resurfaced and it was like I could remember clearly the sheer horror of hyperemesis gravidarum again. The fear won and it consumed me.
And I waited and waited, I prepared (as best as you can) and I became more and more fearful (and a small part of me secretly hoped, I hoped that I would be one of the lucky ones, one of that small fraction who don’t suffer the second time round. Who finally get to enjoy pregnancy instead of spending it vomiting and feeling nauseous for every single second of those 9 months).
It was little over a week from that first faint line until the morning that I woke up to the sickness, it fell like a heavy curtain and choked me. Within less than a week of that first nauseous morning, despite preemptive meds and all the preparation I could manage, I was sat in hospital on a drip with four different types of anti-emetics pumping through my system. Feeling worse than I had every felt through my whole first pregnancy and left me wondering how I was going to cope.
Those short weeks of feeling deathly ill are now a blur… Gone are the questions of how I am going to cope with feeling so ill and looking after both myself and a toddler. Gone is the fear of how i am going to cope with the mental battle that is HG. Now there is nothing…There are no more decisions. The sickness has gone, but only because my baby has gone too.
And now I am empty. Not because I can’t eat anything. Just Empty. Not because I can’t keep anything down. Empty… Truly empty.
The fear of the sickness is gone, that overwhelming sickness, which washed over and tainted everything is gone. And now I know something which is worse… emptiness and a heart which is broken.
The future which planned itself out during those few short weeks is gone… There will be no exciting first time hearing a heart beat. I will never feel those wiggles and kicks. There will be no first cuddles, first smiles or first steps. There will never be two small heads bowed together playing a game only they understand. There will be no squabbles over whose turn it is to go first. My daughters tiny hand will never hold an even tinier hand. She will never know the protective feeling of sibling love.
And it is those thoughts and feelings that make me feel emptiest of all….