If there is one thing that my body can do well, it’s have a period. Exactly 28 days (maybe 29), my cycle started as if I had never even been pregnant. I was dreading this – I expected that it would be the physical reminder of the finality of my pregnancy, but it wasn’t that bad. I don’t even remember crying. I think that I already experienced that finality when the procedure happened. Even though I was under twilight sedation, I distinctly remember it: It was near the end, and while I did not feel any pain, I did feel a wetness. I knew at that moment it was over.
So it wasn’t that big a deal that my period came back. The big deal was today – I ovulated.
I should be happy that my body is back on track, right? I should be elated that I’m stop step closer to my rainbow.
And that’s what scares me. I’m terrified to get pregnant again. I’m no longer that naive girl who thought that the biggest problem that I’d face would be getting pregnant. The next time (if there is one!), I’ll be a hot mess. Each ultrasound will put me in a panic. Blood tests, which once were just an inconvenience, will send me into hysterics. I hope that once I get past the 20 week ultrasound, I’ll be more at ease and relaxed, but I’m not sure how I’ll feel.
I took measurements last night for a new costume. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m older now or because of the pregnancy, but my waist has increased 3 inches. It’s one thing to get bigger and have a baby in arms afterwards, but this… this is salt in the wound.
The reason I’m so scared to try again is because I’m scared that somehow, I’ll screw it up again, either by not getting pregnant, or worse.