“Courage is knowing what not to fear.” – Plato

It’s time for the first hospital appointment. I’m nervous. I feel I’ve been in the dark as to what this pregnancy care will look like this time around. My new mantra is still running strong… most of the time… Don’t carry burdens… burdens like pants. Yes, my pants already don’t fit me. I need to go shopping.

I’m ushered into the ‘private’ 12-week antenatal appointment after the usual anticipated waiting time of our public hospitals, and am greeted by a ‘student’ midwife. Oh Lord Almighty. Please have mercy on my soul. I understand that most students are completely competent. She was lovely and I have no doubt that she’d make a brilliant midwife… but… ‘student’ is the last word I want to hear right now. My last pregnancy was received with the royal treatment; specialist doctors, genetic counsellors and the brilliant Feto-Maternal Unit (FMU). Everything was clearly outlined from day one; no waiting times, no confusion. You can imagine the contrast.

I play the usual game that comes with this particular appointment, making sure I sound convincing with each question… “no, I don’t take drugs”, “no, I haven’t been abused…” Why do I always look so guilty? Awkward pauses fill the voids as all the data is entered once again.

“Pregnancy number 3…” Another awkward moment. Please, just read my overflowing file sitting right next to you so I don’t have to explain everything again. She asks no questions. Phew. The appointment is coming to an end, and I feel her invitation to leave the room. Nothing has been discussed about ultrasounds or tests. Is it now time to panic? I don’t leave my seat, but instead ask when my scan date will be. She looks confused. I start to explain my previous care. Her face changes as her lack of experience begins to bubble to the surface. She looks lost. “I’ll get my supervisor.”

10 minutes pass as I sit playing with my phone in the room, when she returns with a familiar face holding some forms. This time I’m greeted with a, “You’re back! Congratulations! Here are your upcoming hospital referrals. I’ve just booked them all in for you. Your blood test is booked for this day, and the FMU will see you next Thursday.” I couldn’t remember her name from last time, but she oozed authority and aptitude. I want people like you in my corner. Please deliver my baby. What is better than a familiar face? A familiar face that remembers you. I love you, midwife lady.

I leave with a little less weight on my shoulders.

There’s no need to explain the thoughts and feeling leading up to the 13-week scan. Hubby was away for work, so I went alone. Once you strip away the sentimental and are well-rehearsed in the medical, it doesn’t feel like a celebratory event all that much. It’s just another hurdle to conquer. It’s sometimes easier to jump when you feel you’ve got no-one else to carry. Maybe I should just let someone carry me for once? What would the even look like?

I’m greeted by name at the unit with more familiar faces and with sincere congratulations, however, it’s hard to ignore the lingering presence of confliction. This place has been both the bearer of heartbreaking grief and reassuring comfort. I wonder what it will bear third time around? I guess we’re about to find out.

Hello again, Little One. There you are.

13 weeks: Little One

17 Week Belly

“Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness.”