But I don’t. I don’t have faith in myself. At the very least I’m struggling with that. And I kind of get irritated when anyone mentions the “power of positive thinking” relating to losing our first baby or conceiving (for those who don’t know)/carrying (for those very few who do know about the new pregnancy) our second baby. Or those who say, point blank, almost arrogantly, that “it” (meaning the miscarriage — just freaking say the word!) won’t happen again. Because it could. IT SO COULD. My chances of losing this baby are the same as they were the first one. The odds have not been in my favor. And this time I know exactly what could happen and alllllll the ways it could happen in every. single. flippin. trimester.
And I have to shut the happy shiny people down. I have to blow their illusions and tell them in no uncertain terms that it abso-friggin-lutely could happen again. Because even though I would love nothing more than to be Suzy Sunshine, I can’t. Suzy’s ignorant. Six months ago, I was too. But I’m not now. I’m even slightly ridiculously superstitious because often if I start to have an optimistic thought about this new pregnancy, I stop myself because I don’t want to jinx it. I try tell myself that this is a different pregnancy, a different baby, a different set of circumstances, just different.
I want to believe. I want to have faith. I want to trust myself. I want to be positive. But pragmatism is winning right now.