Positive test... now what?

It turned out to be a positive test. I took my test and the three backups and they were all a concrete positive. I sunk down into the loo seat, my entire body recoiling. I have no idea what my emotions have been up to but they’ve been running wild and free inside me. My tummy twists, if it had butterflies in it they’d be rioting and desperately attempting to break free from my weary shell. The knots whirl around like nobody’s business. All the while I’m wondering how quickly the baby will cotton onto this. In fact, I’m sure it doesn’t want to come out and will do its utmost to not survive. It’ll be cursing me because it’s a vital life form that deserves to exist but it’s stuck with an absolute mess of a mother.

All I know at this point is that I’m shit scared to move too fast or do anything remotely strenuous to give the foetus any excuse to scarper. I bet it’s analysing my every movement, logging it all for reference. Maybe God or whoever is having a good old gander too. He must think, ‘Hang on, not everyone is fit enough to bear a child, I’ll be the judge of that, thank you. I did invent procreation after all.’ Shit. So like I said, such a lot thrashing around my head and I have to try to deal with it.

When should I tell Scott? That’s going to be tough. What’ll he think? Will he even want another crack at a shot at parenthood? I can see it now, I’ll blurt it out and he’ll slump forward, head in hands, recalling the horror of the last miscarriage, think, ‘Sod this for a game of soldiers, I’m off to the pub.’ No, he wouldn’t actually. Last time he was sweet and as supportive as he could have been in that situation. They don’t give you instructions on how to deal with it, so we scraped through by the bones of our arses. Hit us hard. Will our rough patch get rougher? We’re trying to navigate our issue and steer through some very choppy waters. Will this blow us apart?

Okay, there’s still a baby in there, even if it hates me. I have to do all I can to keep it alive for as long as possible. I’m too terrified to breathe too deeply or sharply. Since I took those tests, I frantically scan every part of an area with my beady eyes, for potential dangers. I suppose I could be like one of those terminators such as Arnie, who scan everything and it throws up all kinds like who people are and threat level. I could do with that, how I needed it last time. I don’t know why I miscarried last time, it just happened. It’s cruel to never be given a reason, you also don’t get any closure.

I’m trying to be sensible so I’ll make an appointment to see the GP, and I’m going to have to tell Scott, I’ll want him with me. I can’t act in secret. Last time I chickened out of telling him for ages and he was bloody furious. No, I must get my big girl’s pants on and bite this bullet.