I am writing because once again, I solidify my membership into this community no one wants to be a part of. I have been pregnant 6 times, and have one living child. In the middle of the pandemic, when the world is falling apart I had a drop of personal hope. After a few months of trying again after feeling ready to finally do so after Olivia Aileen, I got a positive pregnancy test on March 17th. Hope and fear mingle, as any bereaved mother knows. You don’t want to get too attached, but you also can’t help but spin the possibilities in your mind. You try to ‘think positive’ so you don’t overstress yourself (I say overstress because there is literally no such thing as no stress during pregnancy), you try to take it one day at a time so you know whether or not you’re allowed to hope.
This time though, I didn’t have to keep it to myself. I didn’t have to struggle alone. I had my dear friends who are my board, I had the nurse who delivered my daughter who has become a dear friend, I had my supportive OB. And while it doesn’t make the experience easier, it was refreshing not having to bear the burden alone. They experienced my joy, they experienced my heartbreak, they are with me and understand me. They are who allow me the ability to help myself and help others: because we are never alone.