Will the heart beat?

I gave a big presentation today, a mentor of mine was over from America giving a masterclass in messaging and I filled in the blanks after on what’s going on in an Irish context.

I am usually fairly seamless when I give presentations, I know my beats, where the jokes come in, when to pause, to prod or prostheletize. But jesus today I could hardly catch my breath, stumbling from slide to slide. I thought maybe I’m just really nervous? I didn’t really feel it.

After I was chatting to a colleague who said ‘I forgot to tell you, you’re pregnant, you’ll get out of breath!’ So apparently this is a thing - but surely not until much later in pregnancy? Apparently not. Progesterone, extra blood in your veins, even the beginnings of organ shifts can happen this early. But then my boss offered an alternative explanation - maybe you’re just panicking about your scan?

Surely not. Sure, I have that packaged away neatly. Not getting attached until there’s a confirmation one way or other other. Not my first rodeo.

It’s this coming Wednesday. And if I’m honest, when I think of it, I feel sick. I imagine trying to undress myself with shaking hands and weak limbs, losing my nerve, running out of the place and staying away for eight months and just seeing what happens.

But then again, I’d like an end to the limbo. Or at least this phase of the limbo. On Wednesday, there will either be a heart beat or there won’t. A bit of a 1 or a 0. Baby or ‘so sorry, no baby’. Words that echo in the brain and bones from losses past. I’ll say ‘ah that’s ok, thank you, no problem.’ I’ll try and make sure the nurse doesn’t feel awkward. I’ll put my underwear and jeans and socks and shoes back on in silence. The nurse will say ‘take your time’. She’ll sit us down and go through our options. A scan in a week to make sure probably, then a referral to the Coombe I’d imagine. I’ll hug my partner and cry before jumping to make a new plan for ensuring success with the next embryo. Immune testing, weight loss, more beetroot. We’ll rush to get a taxi home. I’ll get into bed. I’ll go numb and then feel it in a week. I’ll opt for a D&C, probably.

I’ll be ok. We’ll be ok.

There could be a baby but to be honest allowing that thought to take space feels like allowing a balloon to inflate well beyond its capacity.

My body is in a state of frozen panic, I realise as I type this out. No wonder I couldn’t catch a breath today. It’s not the type that comes from normal nerves, but the type that comes from trauma. The body irritatingly and consistently keeping the score. Those of us unfortunate enough know the difference. I almost wonder why I have put myself in this position again?On Wednesday I will have to walk back into the exact same situation that cut me into pieces.

I’ll let you know how it goes.