I'm still holding my breath. It's quite a challenge I can tell you. I close my eyes and imagine a ultrasound scan with a 12 week fetus clearly visible, large head, moving limbs and the heartbeat shown clearly on the monitor. Every time I picture this tears start suddenly flooding down my cheeks. Tears because I would be so happy and ultimately so relieved. These are good thoughts. Good tears. So plan A is that Mr. T and I would go out and celebrate our much deserved and much longed for miracle. A box of chocolates from Praline D'Or (the bestest most deliciousest chocolate shop in Marrakech), dinner at one of our favourite restaurants and lots and lots of cuddles. That's Plan A.
But of course I also have to think of the dark side. I cannot afford not to prepare myself. A lifeless small body, no heartbeat, just floating. I am prepared for that outcome. It would be horribly tragic and sad. But I feel resigned to accept whatever fate has given me. I have done all that I can. I am healthier and stronger than I ever have been. I have been very kind to myself and taken lots of rest. I take my prenatals, choline, zinc & omega 3 religiously. I know this is my best chance. I will accept whatever is. I am resigned to it.
And so we have also made a plan B. When discussing the options for plan B, I looked at Mr. T and with a hopeful look said 'Maldives again?' We are in the middle of building a house, Mr. T reminded me, and so the Maldives may be a little out of the budget for the moment. That is true. But we now have direct flights from Marrakech to Rome and Bologna, I chimed in. Ah, that could be doable, he agreed. So Plan B is to go home and cry (and hold each other tight) and then book tickets to either Rome or Bologna for a little healing escapism.
So while I have never been to Italy and have always wanted to go, mainly to gorge myself on some of the best cuisine in the world, I am of course rooting for Plan A. Of all the things I have ever wanted in my life this is one of the only things that actually means anything at all. I know you know.
And here I am at 12 weeks now *nail biting*. But I am not rushing off to the doc's tomorrow or the day after. I have decided to go on Wednesday when I am truly into the 12th week. Just something I want to do. I have kept my agenda blank for Wednesday and beyond as I just don't know where I'll be. Celebrating or mourning? Being faced with such a black or white outcome is overwhelmingly intense - but I am much more prepared than last time. Last time it didn't even enter into my consciousness for a second that anything could be wrong. This time I know differently and I think being so prepared will make any bad news easier to take. That's the theory anyway, we'll see how we go in real life.
Please send good thoughts/vibes/prayers our way on Wednesday. Thank you!
