May has felt like a long month but finally the end of May is approaching which means we are nearly at two years since Henry’s 20 week scan. The scan which showed things were not great (that’s the understatement of the century, Henry was two weeks behind in his size for dates, that my friends is really fucking bad for a 20 week scan).
I desperately wanted to go into that scan and have some good news but we didn’t. It is playing over in my head. Memories keep popping up when I’m not expecting them.
I can feel Henry’s dates looming over me. I’m nodding at them in acknowledgment, I’m noticing how I feel, I feel twitchy. Bloggers who gush over their rainbow baby, bloggers who say how much having a rainbow has healed them, those who are just a bit too much with their poems and words that I can’t relate to have been taken off Instagram for now. They were making me twitchy and twitchy is not good.
Today I saw a post about how hard a rainbow pregnancy is, the amount of strength that is needed was celebrated. I’ve been there, and it IS hard but I had to comment to say that a rainbow pregnancy with no happy outcome is hard to carry too and you need a different strength for that. Posts about rainbow pregnancies are upsetting at the moment. I’m not talking about friends’ posts, more the faceless social media posts full platitudes and prayers and no understanding or awareness of my truth. I’ve tried commenting on a few but it’s sapping my energy to find the (polite) words.
May into June and on to July, just like March into April are months where sometimes I just need to retreat. Social media is silenced in places – people are unfollowed, group notifications are switched off and I keep scrolling. I feel guilty for switching off but there’s not much else I can do and I’m just sorry that it’s all I can do.
I realised today that for 5 months a year it is really just about self preservation and that’s ok because it means that I can get through.