Feel the fear and do it anyway?

I have longed to provide my daughter with a sibling since before she was born. I was delighted to find out I was pregnant for the second time at Easter last year but, six months ago, our lives were turned upside down when our son was stillborn. Now, we are faced with the challenge of trying again. Lots of bereaved parents go on to have more children but I am scared of losing another baby.

I never felt that my second pregnancy would be my last. I could picture myself with three little people toddling along beside me! So, in some ways, trying again would give us the third child I was hoping for anyway.

But...

I worry that everything will go wrong again. I worry that there will be difficult decisions to make. I worry that I won't have the strength to battle the anxiety. I worry that I won't be able to bond with my baby. I worry that I won't be able to talk about how I feel. I worry that other people won't understand. I worry about depression. I worry that all the worry will make me a poor mummy. I worry that there won't be a 'right time' to start trying and I worry about leaving it too late.

I didn't worry about anything during my pregnancies. I was considered 'low risk' and I never expected things to go wrong. I was so sure of myself as a mum-to-be, custodian of the unborn child. I was careful about my diet and how I exercised, and I was prepared for my babies' arrivals. I never thought I would come away from the hospital with empty arms, sore eyes and a broken heart...

The clock never stops, never stops, never waits

I've never really been bothered by my age before but I am this year. The past six months, I have felt old, worn down, wrung out. I'm not where I expected to be by this stage in my life, which is disconcerting.

I do have lovely things planned for my birthday, although not all of them for the big day itself. My presents will be nice treats for me (rather than practical items or things for the home): a framed family portrait, a new handbag, cosmetics, some tasty brandy (VSOP), and a pedicure. We will be going out for lunch and my mother is taking me to see Aled Jones in concert at Truro Cathedral.

I'm not looking forward to being a year older, though...

I know that age is just a number but this number comes with baggage! It pushes me into a different demographic group and there are things I still want/need to do before I get too much older.

Insecure, what you gonna do?

I still feel unsteady, unsure of myself, uncertain of the future.

Some days, I feel strong and brave; on others, I feel very small.

Outside, I look the same. Inside, I am very different.

It is my birthday this month. I will move up an age group; into the next tick box on surveys. I feel old but age has never bothered me before.

I am very focused on family. I love my husband and daughter so much. I had pictured myself with a clutch of children but now I don't know if I will have any more. I feel as though I can't move on with my life until I have worked this out but it's complicated.

When the human touch is what I need, what I need is you...

I'm not sick but I'm not well

I'm in a state of anxiety.
I can't rest my mind.
It's exhausting.
At least I can sleep at night now.

This morning I was in a deep sleep when my daughter woke me up. Every morning, when her 'gro-clock' changes colour, she pads across the landing, opens the door to our bedroom and climbs into my side of the bed for a snuggle. I enjoy a few minutes of holding a wriggly toddler (she's always been wriggly, that's why we called her 'the wriggler' before she was born...) before she decides which of us has to get up and make her breakfast. This morning it was my turn.

One of the things I was looking forward to was lazy weekend mornings in bed. All four of us. Me, nursing the baby; my husband reading stories or watching something on iPlayer with our daughter.

As I cuddle my daughter each morning, I feel so grateful to have her and so sad that I don't have her brother. I start every day tired and sad. It's exhausting.

I'm still on maternity leave (not sick leave) and am waiting for test results before I decide when to return to the office. I don't know how I will feel after we've seen the consultant next week. Do I want to know if there is a reason why Monty died? Will it help to have my questions answered? Am I strong enough to hear the answers if they are there?

I can't summon the energy to do things that I used to love. Will I ever find the strength to sing again? Why can't I bring myself to cast on stitches for the cardigan I started making for myself before I knew I was pregnant? Will I wear it once it is finished or will it just remind me of what should have been?

I can't shift this cold. Together with the pregnancy-related rhinitis, I don't think I've been able to breathe clearly for about a year now. I'm taking multi-vitamins to boost my immune system.

I worry about the impact of my anxiety and grief on my family, particularly my daughter. I decided weeks ago that I didn't want to be a sad mummy. Yet, I spent most of yesterday afternoon close to tears. A few trickled out as we sat on the sofa together, watching "Wallace and Gromit".

Bereavement: it's exhausting.