The plan was that in six or seven weeks I would make the big reveal: I'd started trying to get pregnant again in June and managed to get the timing right the first time. Trillian and I had decided to wait to tell people, which is very unlike us, but somehow this gave us a sense of stability.
But not telling doesn't mean nothing will happen. And not telling doesn't make this any easier.
I'm going on 24-hours of spotting/bleeding. The midwife said exactly what I expected. Nothing we can do right now... wait and see... decide on blood test/ ultrasound in a couple day...
Last night was only spotting, and only the tiniest amount, but it hasn't gone away. And now it's more than just spotting... less than what would convince me miscarriage is imminent, but more than what I can dismiss.
This pregnancy was going to avoid some of the issues that were raised by last miscarriage. I would be due just about two weeks before Scooter's fifth birthday, keeping us within the spacing we wanted, and about seven weeks before my 35th birthday, just under the wire of the dreaded "advanced maternal age."
And of course I'm feeling betrayed by my body. And not sure I can handle the emotional rollercoaster of trying again or, worse, losing yet another pregnancy. Not to mention the financial side.
I know that there is a chance that this is not over yet, that everything might still turn out OK. And I hover between clinging to that hope and starting the grieving process.