When I was nearly 12 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding heavily one night. Right at the point we were starting to feel ready to share the news wider with friends and family, everything was going wrong. The bleeding was heavy along with cramping and my doctor agreed, it seemed like a miscarriage. She referred me for an ultrasound in a few days’ time. 

I felt it hard, like I’d let down my husband. He was so sad, he couldn’t work, couldn’t do much. His friends and colleagues supported him and it was lovely to see. I carried on with work, with life, feeling somewhat removed. Where everything was happening in my body, I felt I took on the role of reporter, the bearer of bad news. Here’s the bleeding report today. Here’s what I’m feeling physically. Here’s the information about our baby that only I can dispense to you. But that role made me feel detached and responsible. I’m sorry I’m sharing this news. I’m sorry I’m making us sad. 

At the ultrasound, we were shocked with good news. Our baby was alive and thriving. As soon as the scan started, we started to cry with joy. It was the best feeling. We were just floating.

But we held our breath. The bleeding didn’t stop and no one could be sure when it would. The bleeding should stop, it should be OK, we should be able to relax, is what the doctors told us. But no one knew for sure. So for weeks we waited. We didn’t tell many people. When we did we vaguely said it had been “rough” there’d been some “complications.” We smiled, but gritted our teeth. 

Now, as I head into my last trimester, we’re finally starting to act like a baby is coming. What will the sleepless nights be like? Whose hair will baby get? Where will we put the crib. Such concrete considerations felt like distant dreams while we held our breath. Now we have lots to prepare, to do. 

I still get anxious before any shower or baby-related activity. I worry I’ll have something bad to report to all these smiling faces. Something will go wrong and I’ll have to be the bearer of bad news again.

But in between, we’re feeling the joy. Kicks. Movement. Making plans. Buying a stroller. Dreaming of meeting our baby.

—Evelyn Hornbeck