He accused me of wanting attention. I knew then that he had no clue. He didn't truly understand the need for complete strangers to know that I was again holding life, that the more people that knew, the more real this baby would be. That was so hurtful, for him to claim that all I wanted was attention.
But here I am, 11 weeks and 3 days. Out of my past three pregnancies, today marks the farthest I've ever gotten. Well, actually tomorrow because I was 11 weeks 3 days that day at the clinic. That seems so long ago and like it was yesterday all at once. I suppose it will always feel that way.
I have had so many emotions swirling around for the past 11 weeks and I've felt strangled, like I was in a padded room. I was looking for substitute outlets but there has always only been one. I have to write, like I have to wear clothes when I go outside. Not vital to my survival, but quite necessary.
I have officially entered uncharted territory - I've never been this pregnant and I never thought it would be like this. I thought once we figured out what was wrong with me, we would be over the moon ecstatic. I thought he would be so very happy and treat me more softly, differently. But it's as though he is refusing to believe it's real. How many times have I told him that you can't shield yourself from the pain? No matter how numb you think you are, it always hurts. Always.
But I want to tell my story. Our story - mine and my gummi's. That's what it looked like - a little wiggling gummi bear. My gummi bear.
