So I’ve finally done it. I’ve made it out of the stressful and worrisome first trimester in which most miscarriages occur. Now it’s time to party and coast through the entire pregnancy carefree!
No. I’m sorry, no.
I am experiencing a huge sense of relief every time a doctor tells me my chances of miscarrying is less than 3 percent. A 97 percent chance I’m having this baby is pretty good odds. But I’ve known people who have found themselves in the 3 percent way past the first trimester. I’ve known people who have lost babies at birth. I’ve known people who have lost babies a few months after birth. I’ve known people who have lost babies to a drunk driver after their first prom.
I’ll never not worry. And I think that’s what’s called being a mom.
I do find myself having moments where I confidently dream about bringing my baby home, almost sure that it’s going to happen. But I really don’t know. Nobody knows. All anyone has is today. And today, my baby’s heart is beating strong and he/she is wiggling around playfully. For that, I am grateful. For that, I am happy.