“There it is. That’s the answer to your question,” the young doctor exclaimed cheerfully. “So it’s a yes then?” I asked, just wanting to be extra sure. The doctor just smiled and printed out the black and white ‘picture’ of the tiny little bean like thingy. I figured it had been about four to six weeks old. Funny that the doctor couldn’t confirm that. I glanced at my husband and caught the surprised look on his face, in a nice way that is. “Come back in a month time for a follow up”, the doctor advised us just before we left.
So, that was rather unexpected. I was pregnant with our third child! I knew my period had been late for almost three months. I did the home pregnancy tests – about six times if I remember correctly- and all of them came out negative! Nada! I didn’t have any of the signs. I was fine apart from the late period. Told my husband about my problem and we decided to have an ultrasound scan. I had been reading some blogs and online forums that there were other women who had similar experiences so that kind of eased things up for me. I was pretty certain I wasn’t pregnant. I would have known if I was.
Any mommy would be excited. I was. But at the back of my mind I was nervous and a little terrified. I didn’t mind another child. I have two already. It’s the pregnancy that scares me. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes for both of my previous pregnancies. The word diabetes alone scared the life of me. So, to be pregnant for the first time (during my first pregnancy) and was told that I was glucose intolerant, had turned my world upside down. No one had told me this before. I was devastated. But reading up on what it is all about did wonders. I learned that it is a temporary condition and will go away once the child is born. So, yeah, I had to put up with all the blood tests, the stomach churning pure diluted sugar drink and had to keep a close eye on my diet. What I hated so much was the finger pricking routine which I endured throughout the nine months, just to see if my blood sugar was okay or had gone beyond the okay reading. And all that were repeated during my second pregnancy. When I was told I was pregnant again, I vowed to myself to really watch what I eat and be more physically active in order to keep the blood sugar reading normal. My husband and I would go window shopping for babies’ stuff because most of the things we had were worn out. We even decided to name the baby Hanna if it was a girl. I really wanted another girl but wouldn’t mind it so much if it was a boy. We couldn’t decide on a boy’s name. Oh well. Plenty of time for that. Every day I would talk to the tiny bean in my tummy whilst stroking it in a gentle circular motion.
We did exactly what the doctor had told us to do a month earlier. We went back for a follow up. Within the month I didn’t feel any different. Just out of curiosity I did some more tests and again, all were negative. I wasn’t too worried as I had read somewhere that it could be due to the low hormone level. Another ultrasound scan was done. This time it took slightly longer than before. I became wary. The expression on the doctor’s face didn’t help either. The silence was broken. “There’s nothing there. I’m sorry but I am very sure about this”, uttered the doctor. I could feel my world spinning. In disbelief I searched for my husband’s face. He wasn’t sure how to react either. I was still smiling, but it was bitter. I didn’t cry. I didn’t know what to say. I was quiet, only nodding to whatever the doctor said to me. I wasn’t really listening. I had been looking forward to hearing the doctor saying something like “The baby is fine. It’s going to be 10 weeks soon.” I was always emotionally strong and I wasn’t about to give in. I kept a straight face because I was raised to always be strong and not cry over petty little thing. But I thought this wasn’t a petty little thing. In my head I constantly asked myself if it was okay to cry. Would people give me a strange look for that? Of course my husband was all supportive and asked if I was alright every waking minute. I said I was fine. I was still asking myself where Hanna (or Baby Boy) had gone to. This went on for weeks. I did cry my heart out when no one was around. I cried myself to sleep. I once cried in my husband’s arms. It felt much better once I let it all out. I learned that it is okay not to be strong all the time.
I still think of the baby. I still don’t understand how it was possible. Perhaps my experience isn’t too bad as compared to other mothers who have also lost their unborn children. I remember my sister in law who lost her baby in the eighth month of pregnancy. I can’t imagine myself if I was her. I learnt to be even stronger. And I still have the ‘picture’ of the child I never had.