Promise lost, this time

On Saturday morning I was feeling sorry for myself because I was pregnant. Nauseous, hung over feeling like I'd inhaled a bottle of rum (which I hasten to assure you I hadn't), tired, full bladder, and that was before I'd even got out of bed.

On Sunday morning I was devastated because I'm not pregnant any more. Just as we started yelling from the rooftops news of our wee no.3, our cherry on top, our possibly pink addition, our piece d'resistance, the last of the Mohican's, the end of the line, the littlest pea in the pod, (it even had started a catalogue of pet names e.g. brucetta, aka cheryl moana maree)...the story ended with a few stomach cramps, bleeding, and a rather broken heart.

Only 7 weeks into pregnancy I know the stats, the chances, the possibility of Mother Natures highly efficient selection process deciding this one was not 'viable'. But didn't she know I had already seen a life intimately intertwined with mine, a long life of possibilities and loving and mothering for my little mass of rapidly dividing cells?

I'm not questioning that there is order in your chaos, Ma Nate, I just find it hard to let go of all the promise contained in that beautiful + on the preggy test.

I am so grateful for what I have - my beautiful sons and their wonderful father, my health and my family and friends who rise up so seamlessly to catch you at time like this when you are free falling without even knowing it.


Quotes from W. George, 3 years old man wise:
Overheard from the toilet as he did his independent business..
'That stinks GOOD'

Talking about numbers and ages, he said ' I'm three'
I dumbly asked ' And how old am I?'
Grin. ' You're sixty-two'.
'WHAT?'
Laugh. 'No, you're forty six'.
Hysterical laugh.

Fancy helping to improve third world conditions while sitting on your couch reading a good book?
For this type of VSA (Volunteer Services on your Arse) check out www.goodbooksnz.co.nz - great books great prices and all the profits go to Oxfam. Yah for consumering with a conscience.