“A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.” – Osho

This feels nothing like the last 2 times. I don’t have that familiar sickly feeling as before, nor the ghastly threats of UTIs that had plagued me previously. This has to mean something. I am sick, I am tired, but it feels so different. And my skin… still no resolve. This has to mean something. Little One has a notable understanding that there is a baby growing in his mum’s stomach. We haven’t told anyone else yet. I instantly ‘look’ pregnant. How are we going to hide it this time? Looking after a 2-year-old and concealing the wearing symptoms are going to be a challenge. Don’t overthink it… but it all has to mean something.

The waiting game, at times, can be a cruel one. My little brain assumes every detail to ‘mean something’. It’s a sign of the worse and of things to come! I recite my new-found mantra numerous times a day to combat my imaginations thrill in toying with me. “Don’t carry burdens that don’t yet exist.” But there’s probably no heart beat… maybe it’s even a ‘phantom’ pregnancy. It all has to mean something. At least I haven’t denied its existence as I did with Little One. That’s progress, right? My thoughts are spiralling again. This is just not good enough.

I reinforce to myself again that this time I’m in control of my thought-patterns and I mutter my mantra again; “Don’t carry burdens that don’t yet exist.” Worry and entertaining the “what if” scenarios does not prepare us for imminent doom, it just robs us and the moments of its presence. It’s so cliché, but I’m very aware that I need to make the conscious decision to live in today and to stop living in tomorrow. So easily said…

The impending “Dating Scan” day has finally arrived. This time, I don’t go alone. Little One accompanies me and has been a blessed distraction. I feel I’ve done so well. There’s been no dark holes or deep valleys the last few weeks. Maybe I have finally come full circle. I speak too soon…

I pull into the carpark and my chest starts to tighten. It’s all becoming too real again. Breathe through it. My insides feel like they’ve turned to jelly as I hear myself recanting my new-found strength. I can’t do this again. I don’t want to. My eyes fill with tears as I assemble the pram and take him from his car seat. What have I done. Breathe. Breathe.

Little One is positioned by the sonographer at the end of the table. His little hand sits on my leg as he witnesses things he cannot yet comprehend. My eyes well with tears again, this time not from angst, but from the intrigue, wonder and warmth exuding from Little One’s face. This has to mean something. In the darkened room, it’s revealed to us the little flicker of life. Hello there, Little One. Don’t we have a journey ahead of us… as I assert to myself again; “don’t carry burdens that don’t yet exist.”

“Nothing teaches us about the preciousness of the Creator as much as when we learn the emptiness of everything else.” –Spurgeon

6 weeks

9 weeks

Little Flicker