A good friend has pointed out to me that I have yet to blog about being pregnant with Sofia; her birth, her being. I have scribed so much regarding Esme in the Down to earth with a bump posts, it seems only natural to continue for Sofia. (Besides my girls, if you are reading this one day, I don't want any arguments).
Sofia was longed for.
A sibling for Esme was longed for.
And after the miscarriage, it just didn't happen.
The irony hasn't bypassed me:
Two pregnancies just like that without even trying.
One more pregnancy, tried for desperately, non-existent.
Every month I'd be hopeful. A few months I got lucky, testing positive. Only then to watch it change with a repeat test a few days later, ending up in a very heavy bleed.
Oh the negativity of a negative result. In the end, it eats away at you. In the end, it ate away at me anyway. In the end, I had to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Even if the tunnel was heading in a different direction to where we initially wanted to go.
Rightly or wrongly and against Simon's wishes, I said I would only try for six more months, and if I still wasn't pregnant by the end of that time, then that would be it. I was not prepared to keep going through the heartache of anticipation and at times, excitement, followed by disappointment. Not to mention the hormonal ups and downs. Plus I knew Esme wasn't getting all the attention she needed. Basically, it was already too long trying, although it wasn't yet 18months.
Putting a time frame on it helped me, for in my head it then became manageable. I was positive I would do everything in my power to help aid conception in that six months; reflexology, diet, acupuncture, homeopathy, cranial osteopathy. The rest remained to be seen.
And so the second loudest clock in my life, started ticking.
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