We made it to Week 15 and our little jelly bean is now the size of an avocado! They have so much more growing to do over the next 25 weeks, but it’s also amazing we have made it this far. As I think ahead to the rest of the second trimester, it feels as though it will be a big waiting game. Waiting to see if anything happens, good or bad. Trying to figure out what amount of preparing for their arrival feels appropriate. Wondering what we will learn at the 20-week anatomy scan. Waiting for their movements to become more defined and consistent.
I find myself saying “if everything goes to plan” a lot.
If everything goes to plan, we will be X number of weeks along at this point in time. If everything goes to plan, I will be on maternity leave from November to February. If everything goes to plan, we will have a new baby in our arms for the holidays. I wish I still had the rosy glasses and didn’t worry about anything negative happening. I wish there were guarantees in this life – if you do everything ‘right’, then you will get this expected outcome. But we all know there are no guarantees. We can only do what we can and hope for the best.
This week, I have been reflecting quite a bit over life’s big moments. Birthdays. Graduations. Moving into your first apartment or house. First loves. First jobs or promotions. Weddings. Babies. Growing old with your loved ones around you. We always hear about the success stories, but rarely do we hear when things don’t go to plan. Maybe it’s the worry of embarrassment or judgment. Maybe it’s hard to find the right words. Maybe those who you want to talk to don’t know how to handle difficult conversations.
My husband and I attended the wedding of a friend over the weekend – it was small yet filled with love.
The toasts at the reception were given by their parents and were filled with the typical well wishes, including being together until they are old and surrounded by their children’s children. I began wondering and hoping that one day I will be able to give a similar speech at this baby’s wedding. I flashed through all the possible milestones we will experience with this baby if everything goes to plan, hoping their life is filled with love and happiness. Which also serves as another reminder of the milestone we won’t be able to share with Austin.
The other couples that were at our table during the reception were both parents of two children. They talked about the normal things you would expect when it comes to living children. I’ve never been good at small talk, even before losing Austin, and this was our first real ‘social’ event since losing him thanks to Covid. Eventually, my husband shared that we were expecting our second (we view the chemical pregnancy differently, but I too struggle sometimes with how to incorporate that pregnancy in our story). They said congratulations and started asking the typical questions which we answered until they eventually got to the “how old are they” question. I answered that he would be just over a year, emphasizing the would, and then the questions died down and we never elaborated further. I was so internally conflicted – I wanted to share Austin’s story, but didn’t want to be the one to bring down the mood at a wedding. We will likely never see those people ever again, so it didn’t feel completely necessary to share, but it also feels like a betrayal to his memory.
Maybe one day we will figure out how to feel more comfortable navigating these situations.
They eventually asked if we would stop after two or go for a third child. My husband and I have always said we wanted two or three kids. But maybe we will end up with both – two living children but three (or four, or more) total with our babies in heaven, if everything goes to plan. For now, we will just have to see how this pregnancy goes. I’m not feeling nostalgic with this pregnancy, as if this is the last time I will be pregnant, but I am committed to finding joy and making memories. I just hope everything goes to plan.