This morning I woke up and went to the bathroom. As I looked down, I was horrified to see the sign that every pregnant woman dreads - fresh, red blood.
Thirty minutes of hysterical crying, panicking, hurried dressing and driving to the hospital. Two hours waiting in the Early Pregnancy Unit. One painful internal examination and the ominous words 'threatened miscarriage'. J and I trying to make sense of it all, trying desperately to convince the doctor to tell us that this is 'normal', that we shouldn't be worried. Hand squeezing, bated breath, crawling back into bed, tearful, exhausted, praying that everything is ok.
I need to go back on Thursday for another scan. The doctor said that my cervix is closed, which is a good sign, I have no pain and haven't bled anymore since 10am. Everything is looking positive. But the situation seems so precarious that I daren't move in case it goes away.
What will now follow is three days of torture, desperately hoping that Peanut is ok. Three days of false optimism and forced smiles and being hyper aware of every single twinge and pressure I feel. Three days of scrutinising my knickers for any trace, however small, of blood.
The wait is agonising but nothing compared to the thought of me losing this baby.
Please Peanut, please be strong and safe and healthy.
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