This morning I started spotting. No big deal I thought to myself. I spotted through most of my first trimester with Bean.
Texted my midwife to give her a heads up and then carried on with my day.
Then I started having some cramps.
So she said I should probably try to stay down and technically put me on pelvic/bed rest. She added after saying that, “But let’s be realistic here. You have a baby. I know that’s not really possible.” Just as Bean started screaming after stepping on her Thomas the Train toy.
She said that really there isn’t much that can be done if I am going to miscarry. They could order blood work and look on an ultrasound, but all that would tell us is whether I am going to or not. Not much they can do to prevent it.
I did laundry. I made a pot pie. I carted my little tyke around the house.
This is the way I see it. God knows what He’s doing. There’s no use worrying about it. If this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be, then it just wasn’t meant to be.