But one day, out of nowhere I started to:
– smell everything
– feel that my post weaning crevasses previously known as my breasts were getting plump again
– and fall asleep in the middle of a sentence (this is not an exaggeration by the way. I remember talking to DH and then finding my head plunging into my dinner plate. And it hurts.)
Signs were popping up everywhere but I refused to see, I refused to surrender . I had just started to enjoy wine for god’s sake. My twin pregnancy messed up my hormones big time and tricked my body to think I no longer loved red wine or hot chillies. Unbelievable. No wonder I was losing sense of whom I was. However, after 4 positive home pregnancy tests, a two weeks denial period during which DH was breathing down my neck looking constipated from stress, I finally had a blood test at my obstetrician’s. I was mortified. Everyone (administrative staff, obstetricians, nurses etc.) recognized me immediately and welcomed me with a silent grin or with a lecture on birth control – at 37 years old, it is particularly excruciating. When you are pregnant with twins and are kind of old, you get to see your doctor so often that you start thinking of building a campfire and howling some Earth mother chants to kill time. And thus there is no ‘incognito’ status for you ever. Everyone in the practice knows your face and the functioning of your uterus. Yuck.
But I could not care less. To be honest, I was numb beyond repair from the shocking possibility that I might be pregnant again just when I thought my brain was starting to (re)activate itself, just when I thought I was finally having post baby aspirations. I did not know what to do. Hell, DH did not know what to do either. We did not want to pronounce the word ‘abortion’ but I knew it was on both our minds. How else to explain all these unfinished conversations when talking about what this pregnancy meant?
Who knew that 10 seconds of silence was all it took to complete these conversations? 10 seconds during which my obstetrician could not hear any fetal heart rate at our first scan, 10 seconds during which DH and I panicked on our own and together. 10 seconds after which we knew for sure we wanted him to exist, ruin our nights, scratch our faces, roll over when being changed, bite our noses, giggle when being bathed or drool in our mouths. Funny how silence can often tell you more than any words could.
Happy Birthday my bumble bee.