You know that conventional wisdom that says you don’t tell anyone about a pregnancy until 12 weeks? That conventional wisdom which I have long-derided as Dreadfully Boring and Anal and Paranoid? Yes, that. Well, now I get it. Totally get it. That same wisdom also probably advises you hold off from buying the lovely second-hand red Bugaboo pram and the Victorian crocheted christenening cap and playing enthusiastic “Name Your Imaginary Daughter” games with your friends on Twitter, until at least you have a scan to make sure your pregnancy is viable and your baby is not developing into a star mole.
All of which unfortunately leads me to this awkward post. I am no longer pregnant as of yesterday and I am now spending the day on the couch enduring a ‘medically managed’ miscarriage. I am not moving except to refill my cup of tea. Dog on the road? Child hanging from radiator? Mouldering washing? Tom and Jerry DVD stuck on a scratched frame? Too bad. Today, I am just going to suck it up and sit it out under a blanket. I am an island. Or a rocky outcrop. Or something. But I am not moving, nor am I conversational, or very much fun.
I am sorry that this post and others have referred to my fertility, successful or otherwise. Yuck. It isn’t that interesting, or appropriate, and certainly wades forthright into that old chestnut of Too Much Information. It is awkward. But spew it out I must, or I will have to fake a birth in December for faithful readers with long memories. So awkward. Of course, I have also told every single real-life human being I have come into contact with over the last ten weeks so my awkwardness is will keep repeating on me like an oniony burp. Supermarket, school gates, the traffic guy on Bishop’s Bridge, teachers, potential business partners, the staff at Pret. SIGH.
Things that I imagine everyone in the world will say/think, privately or otherwise:
1. It was the worm tablet
2. It was the jogging
3. She carries her groceries home by herself – it was them
4. The school run did it
5. The coffee did it
6. Her body doesn’t want any more children, OBVS
7. She needs a rest anyway
8. She should be grateful for her four healthy kids
9. She should take a hint
10. She should get a cat
11. Her poor husband needs a rest
etc etc.
Yep. Ok. Alright.
Anyway, that is that. I will be fine tomorrow and I will get through the well-intentioned comments from everyone I meet as best as I can. And I promise there shall be no more talk of babies and pregnancy tests and the ‘evacuation of retained products of conception’. OH MY how the NHS has misfired in that particular piece of helpful take-home literature!
And on the bright side, I can resume my enthusiastic efforts to sample much more New World sauvignon blanc, and I can toast the Queen on the Jubilee weekend with something stronger than tea. And I can take my geriatric-speed-jogging up a notch and actually overtake someone. And just maybe fit the Erdem black dress I bought on eBay which just now won’t quite fit down over my middle region. And I can go eat foie gras until I am SICK and spread my toast with stinking cheeses and I can throw away the folic acid tablets and replace them with parma ham! And go do some extreme sports or something. There is always a bright side.
Thank you. I am done – no need to speak of today again. Ahem.
The Harridan 
Not speaking of it except to offer my services in twatting anyone who even thinks any of those things. x
Thank you! I shall myself attempt to refrain from said twatting, but it will be very difficult. The wine may help.
Go and get yourself a mega large prawn cocktail and wash it down with gin. These things are sad and awkward. I lost a baby at 12 weeks. Two weeks later someone patted my tummy and said: “Ahhh these things are so exciting.” Very awkward.
Big Love xx (Kerry’s friend who you met in your communal garden that time)
Soooo awkward! Yes to the gin, genius idea. And I remember you of course! I love your blog. I can’t comment on it for some reason – the iPad refuses. Weird. Some coding issue, I think. Anyway, thanks for the thoughts x
Can I volunteer to help you with the sauvignon blanc tasting? ASAP? x
Yes! Next week? Cocktails at the ready!
I never know what to say, but I think so much more than awkward, and sending my love. Sad for you honey. You are my hero for writing such a great post about such a life event. (And wanting to join Elsa in offering services for twatting anyone who has said any of the 11 above things- not sure what twatting is but sounds suitably ferocious!). xxx
Except for to say I am so very sorry for your loss. Kia Kaha. All love. And it really is just chance. Thinking of you.
I am so, so, sorry. I do think it helps others to talk about these losses; please know that anyone thinking or saying anything remotely blaming is an idiot. Take care of yourself and have several glasses of Sauvignon blanc to wash down the page.
Bloody iPhone auto text. I meant *pâté.
Jodi, that’s so shitty. I’m so sorry. I hope you get as much couch time as you need xx
Jodi – fuck everyone else anyway, who cares what they think. Much love.
so so very sorry love.please take rest. thinking of you.
Ugh. This is not your fault and you have every right to deal with it as you see fit. Let me know if you want to arrange some “me” time in New York City. (insert happy emoticon)
LOVE YOU CHICKY-BABE
xxx from me
Hi Jodi – I’m so sorry to hear the news. Am thinking of you and I hope you are getting lots of TLC. Kate Fitz xx
What a bugger, Sorry.
Ohhhh, I am so sorry. I hope you get plenty of the sort of cosseting that suits you best and zero horrible remarks.
So sorry to hear your news. Hope you’re resting and/or eating stinky cheese right this very minute. xx
How utterly miserable and unfair. Large quantities of alcohol, smoked salmon and soft cheese seemed to make me feel momentarily better when I went through this a while ago. I hope you’re getting lots of hugs.
bugger.
So sorry to read this. Love your blog, really makes me laugh but not today. Been through this too so sending love and hugs your way x
Ah – so sorry to read this. Sending you love and hugs.
Ali x