Bloody hell

I wish I could say that the next 6 months of pregnancy went without a hitch and that the following months were of zen like pregnancy yoga and glowy skin and hair but that then would be poppycock.  Of course after everything, I loved that I was pregnant and not a day went by when I didn’t feel internally grateful for being with child.  To this day, I still can’t quite believe my luck and being pregnant certainly made everything worthwhile but though I loved that I was pregnant I didn’t enjoy the pregnancy and I suspect this had a lot to do with more scares than a haunted bloody house and by blood I’m talking literally.  It wasn’t until I hit the 18 week mark that it finally stopped.  The first 18 weeks I had three major bleeds and essentially spotted in between.  All well and good that it’s actually not that uncommon to spot/bleed throughout a pregnancy but in light of my history, well, my anxiety was at an all time high.  So whilst I wished I could enjoy my pregnancy like any normal female would, I did spend a considerable amount of time working with a psychologist to stem the overwhelming fear I had that I would still not achieve my dream of having a baby.



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