Letter to my unborn baby

Edit: I wrote and published this blog when I was eight weeks pregnant. Sadly, I miscarried at thirteen weeks. You rather naively assume that once you get to twelve weeks, everything will be fine. That's not always the case.

"Hello, little one.

We’ve been through so much together and I don’t even know what you look like. You were so unexpected. Completely and utterly out of the blue. But you’re here, you’re mine, and I’m going to keep this blog throughout my pregnancy so that when you’re screaming til you’re red in the face and it’s four o’clock in the morning and my eyes are being held open by matchsticks, I’ll remember that you are my favourite oopsy daisy ever.

I found out one morning while I was getting ready for work, doing a test on a complete whim. I’d felt funny for days, but all the symptoms were quickly dismissed. I was a bridesmaid at Auntie Helen’s wedding and I had far too much to be doing than to be thinking about anything that wasn’t wedding related. My stomach was hurting, my lower back ached, I couldn’t work up an appetite for my main course, I was almost too hungover the next day, trying not to throw up in the back of the car on the way home…

It was the suggestion off someone else which made me do it: “you’re probably not, but do a test just in case.” So I did. I had one stashed in my girly box under my bed so I read the back of the packet and it said to do it first thing in the morning.

I was brushing my teeth when I cast my eye on one bright pink line showing up. One line means the test is negative, right? Great. Just as I thought. As I was rinsing my mouth with mouthwash, out of the corner of my eye, I could see there was a second line already starting to form, growing darker and darker as if it was screaming out to me: SURPRISE!

Jesus Christ. Two lines could mean negative, couldn’t it? I mean… it doesn’t guarantee that it’s a positive. Maybe I did the test wrong (although how hard is it to pee on a stick?) Maybe the test is a dud. Sitting on the edge of the bath, I quickly googled “false positive pregnancy tests” – yes, I had my phone in the bathroom with me. It turns out it’s almost near to impossible to achieve a false positive and the brand of test I had used was one of the most respected and therefore, likely to be accurate. Regardless of this, my sister went out and bought some more pregnancy tests and they all came back positive.

So, no. They couldn't all be wrong. I was very much pregnant.

Only here’s the strangest part of all – six months previously, I’d been back and forth to the gynaecologist with various problems and I’d been told that my chances of conceiving naturally would be less than 1% and my chances of carrying a baby full term were pretty much 0%. So, combining that with taking my pill, how the hell had this happened?

I wandered back to my bedroom to get dressed and it was as if I was a zombie. People stopped me and spoke to me on the landing, asked me questions whilst passing me on the stairs. I don’t think I even replied. How on earth I drove to work that morning, I’ll never know. I ran a red light without realising it. I pulled out on someone at a roundabout. It was only when I was squinting that I realised it was pouring down and I didn’t have my wipers on. I was a mess.

It stayed that way for a few days. I was wandering around work like a lost puppy. I didn’t even realise that I hadn’t taken my break until someone pulled me up on it. Concentration was somewhat impossible.

Telling your dad was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. We were both frightened but his mind was made up and I knew from that moment onwards, it was you and me against the world. Me and Grandma are putting together an album full of pictures of him which we'll keep somewhere safe.
I’ll tell you all about him one day. 

We had some wonderful times together and at least I can say that at one point, we were madly in love with each other – but I love you more and I couldn't face a future without you.

I’m not going to say that I didn’t consider the alternative. Of course I did. I wrote down a list of reasons why I should keep you. I also wrote down a list of reasons for why I shouldn’t. It was only as I tore the paper into pieces that I realised I already knew my answer.

It’s been so, so hard in the last few months, especially doing this on my own. I’ve been in and out of hospital – you little tinker – and some days, I’ve felt so sick that I can barely get out of bed, but I’ve been working as much overtime as I possibly can, doing fifty and sixty hour weeks to make enough money for us to have a nice home together. It’s been tiring, quite scary and often a little bewildering, but I’ve had an army of people around me day by day.

I’m not stupid. I know this will be hard. It will be ten times harder than I can possibly begin to imagine. And maybe even ten times harder than that. But I couldn’t not do it. You were unexpected, unplanned, even unbelievable. But you were here.

  

I’ve never done anything the way it was meant to be done. And you are no different. I might be a bit crap at first, but you’ll have to trust me on this one and just go with the flow, because I’ve never done this before.

I can’t promise you the perfect life with a mum, a dad, a house and a dog, but I can promise that you will be loved, looked after and well cared for. You’re coming into a family who are always laughing. Grandma’s house is loud and busy but it’s very welcoming. Your five older cousins will play with you, steal your food from you – maybe even tell tales on you. It’s going to be madness, but you’ll get used to it.

I’m not a very good driver, but I promise to be safe when you’re around. I get cranky when I’ve not had a lot of sleep, but I promise to stifle my yawns and drink a litre of coffee so I’m not cranky with you. I’ve been known to miss meals and fill myself up with chocolate, but I promise to eat all the vegetables in the world to help you grow. I’m quite selfish with the TV remote, but I promise to switch the TV off and spend hours playing with you and reading to you.

Welcome to the world, baby Chriscoli.

It’s just you and me, kid."

An angel with the Book of Life wrote down my baby's birth. Then whispered, as she closed the book, "too beautiful for Earth".
<3