It is getting harder as I go. I started off if not positive, at least content. Now the anxiety and grief are becoming more overwhelming. The pain of Emma's death has become more raw again as I look ahead to the birth of this baby.
I am still jealous of other pregnant women. Most of them are the naively joyful ones. The ones who have not been touched by death. I wish I could be her again.
I still can't be around other babies. Your living baby reminds me of mine who died. The next baby I will hold or coo over will be my own.
No matter what I love and want this baby girl more than anything, but that doesn't mean that I am always "excited" or "engaged" in this pregnancy. Sometimes for my sanity I need to power through the day, and that means not spending a lot of energy thinking about being pregnant. That feels horrible to say. It scares me and feels like bad juju, but that's the reality of pregnancy after loss.
In the same moment, I feel this little girl moving inside me and I get so happy and hopeful and thankful for her precious little beating heart. I am an emotional yo-yo most of the time.
I am really resentful that I am already a mother but for all intent and purpose I will be a "first-time" mom once this baby is born. Friends and relatives will want to offer advice and give opinions on parenting. When I'm up in the middle of the night with no clue what to do, there will be others out there that will know the answers. I should know the answers, and I'm angry that I don't. To be honest, as of right now I don't want anyone's advice and I'm not going to ask for it. I just can't. I feel like it invalidates me as a mother.
And most of all, I hope beyond anything and everything, that this time I get to bring a living baby home.