This post comes at a time of reflection for me. The due date of our angel baby has just passed. He or she would’ve turned one around about now. It got me thinking about how the loss of that little one has affected my current pregnancy. And it has. More than I (maybe naively) would’ve expected.

The first time I realised that our loss had impacted on my bond with this new baby was at about 8 or 9 weeks. I was chatting to my Mom and she said something along the lines of ‘so what are you thinking about names?’ My response…. ‘erm, we’ve barely spoken about the fact that I’m pregnant let alone what he or she might be called (and in my head… should he or she survive to full term)’. It dawned on me that Anthony and I had barely discussed the pregnancy at all. Clearly, we were both feeling very insecure about the whole thing.

It dawned on me at that point how much I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about the little one growing inside me How I’d (easily) distracted myself with Leo and all his wants and needs. As with both my previous pregnancies, I didn’t have many symptoms, no sickness, some tiredness but nothing extreme so it was relatively easy to… Ignore.

I wasn’t sure how I would get through another pregnancy. The build up to that 12 week scan (where we learnt about our loss the previous time around) was something I didn’t want to think about but I knew I couldn’t go all that time not knowing if we’d at least made it past some small milestones.

We booked an early pregnancy scan for 6 weeks. Hella early in hindsight. But we were both on tenterhooks. Turns out when we went there was sack present but nothing much more to be seen. We knew that it was at this point last time the foetus had stopped developing so my worst nightmare was to not see a heartbeat (although in hindsight I new we were very early to expect to see this). The sonographer and doctor actually thought that I might’ve been having an ovarian ectopic pregnancy. Cue all the fears of another loss. How on earth would we bear that? Off to the hospital we were shipped for further scans. We were told to return in two weeks for a viability scan.

Two weeks passed. Slowly. I thought even less about the baby than I had done previously. Determined not to make any bonds with it until I knew more. Turns out we were just a little bit early to the first scan and there it was. Our kidney bean shaped baby with the most perfect heartbeat I’ve ever seen.

But the 12 week scan still loomed. I got an appointment through. It was dated for when I’d be more like 13 weeks. My anxiety got the better of me and we booked another private scan for around 11 weeks. I recall sitting in the waiting room, drinking water and physically shaking. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure they’d ever open. But there he was. On the screen in front of me. Heart beating, blood flowing… tears flowing.

There was some comfort in those first few scans but it hasn’t been an easy ride. Over wiping after going to the loo to make sure there’s no traces of blood, trying not to talk about him too much for fear of jinxing myself. And then there was the buying of things. I don’t think I really allowed myself to really fall in love with him until about 26 weeks. We found out at 19 weeks that he was a boy and I took some time to absorb that information. Two boys. Wow. How lucky we are. That information sunk in for a few weeks and then that was it, I started to find that hope again. I started to think about all the things we have to look forward to. That Leo will have a little brother… and my heart might explode. I perused some shops and saw some beautiful pieces that I made a mental note of but still couldn’t quite bring myself to buy… Just in case. And then I did. I bought one tiny baby grow from Mothercare. It felt like a massive step. I was accepting that he was real, he was on track and he deserved my attention and to be loved.

Then a few weeks later, there was a gush and blood. I knew it was too good to be true, I’d jinxed myself, what was going on!? I was horrified. Turns out that my waters had ruptured. I was 30 weeks and not ready for any early arrival… especially based on the fact that poor kid had one baby grow! All the thoughts of him potentially coming early, being shown around the NICU, feeling completely unprepared hit me like a slap in the face. There was no way I was letting this one get away. He has to be for keeps. I felt heartbroken at the thought of losing him which was the realisation of just how much I do love him.

But I can report that we are being monitored twice a week and so far so good. He is likely to make an appearance sooner rather than later but we are yet to get an exact date.

I guess the point of this post is to point out that grief is a very difficult thing to manage. I felt guilt for potentially loving another baby. Would he make me forget about the one who wasn’t supposed to be. I was afraid I’d forget about our little Angel baby. But I know in my heart that little one will never be forgotten. But grief is a process. If it took me 26 weeks to let myself believe in the new love I have then so be it. It was a real struggle at the start, but time, patience and positive thinking are all amazing healers. And we are capable of amazing things.

How did you cope with pregnancy after miscarriage? Did it taint your new pregnancy? I hope if you are a survivor of miscarriage and are pregnant again that you are finding a way to enjoy your pregnancy and to embrace it.

We are over the moon (as in jumping up and down in excitement) to announce the safe arrival of Tayo Ozioma Sappor. Born on the 13th August 2016 at 35 plus 5 weeks weighing in at a healthy 6lb 5oz. Biggest hugs to Becky and the newest addition to the Rock My Family team.