The Cape

We spent the weekend at the Cape. We sat at many restaurants looking through a name book - which was at times daunting and strange. We napped. We ate. We biked (a little). Waiters asked my due date. I talked to a woman in a kitchen store about her jogging stroller. We bought a few baby clothes. And all the while I felt afraid. Afraid to let myself go. I do not know if this is a healthy pregnancy. Still. I do not know. And I am afraid to know. I am afraid of the miscarriage risk, but I am also afraid to know. Once I know, there is no turning back. I have to begin accepting, dealing, moving forward. For now, I can deny.

The rest of the time was spent with the husband reassuring me that, in the end, everything is going to be all right. Sometimes I forget that it's not just me who is going through this - the infertility, the miscarriages, the possibility of our continuing to have problems. This child, whomever this child is, is part of other people's lives too, those who love us. I forget that. I forget that I am not completely alone in this. My sister signed off an e-mail recently with, "I love you and I love the baby." If something is wrong with my child - I will be angry. I will despair. I will blame myself. I already do. But I am not entirely alone. Grief is a lonely business. But supporting and loving this child does not need to be.