I was right: I am pregnant! And I’m excited, but I’m also scared. A good friend of mine had a miscarriage back in December, and I worry that it might happen to my baby, too. I find myself checking for blood every time I go to the bathroom, and wondering if we’re going to see a heartbeat with the first ultrasound.
It feels a little bit like it did when John was recovering from the psychosis. I’d wake up to check and make sure he was sleeping; I’d hand him his meds and watch to make sure he swallowed; I followed him to his day treatment program once to make sure he wasn’t skipping out.
The good news with him, though, is that over time, as he continued to choose recovery and take care of himself, the worry lifted. Is it always there for mothers? Will I always, from now on, be concerned that something with this child will go wrong?