…that getting out of bed at 11am to make a cup of tea (and because the wife insists that I MUST get up), is as good a way as any to attempt to pull me out of this morass.
I’m bleeding again.
After a perfect week away in the place I feel most at home and spiritually connected.
After spending days with swollen tender breasts, irritability, sudden bouts of starving-ness, extreme tiredness from about 3pm each day.
After standing overlooking the most northern point in the country, where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean meet, and the resulting waves and whirlpools are believed to signify the creation of life.
After sunrise meditations on the actual beach where I usually go to (in my mind) when I meditate.
After seeing a childhood friend who asked if I was hapu (pregnant) and said she’d been dreaming for two weeks of a baby boy with black hair.
After a visit to my grandfathers grave, who I sense is going to be the one who guides our baby to us.
After dreams of a boy baby tucked up in white sheets in a wooden crib.
After my inner voice said to me when wondering if this would be the time: “He’s already here.”
After a mutha-flippin sausage fell out of the sky and onto my head on an insemination day.
After meeting and making friends with 2 midwives whilst away – one of which lived in my childhood home.
After my charting app showed perfect ovulation and insemination timing.
After the day (tomorrow at 15dpo) that we had chosen to test, will be our 1st wedding anniversary.
After all that.
I’m bleeding heavily again.
This is a specially hard one as I really felt that wee presence. I don’t know if it’s better or worse to feel that the pregnancy starts, then stops.
Surely we are getting closer to the real thing now. Please. Soon come pepi, please.