Warning: I'm being totally honest here, and this may upset some people. Also, it's quite long.

I suppose I should be grateful. I got to 27 weeks before starting to freak out. But freak out I have been the past three days. I convinced myself I'd lost Cookie.

Never mind I could feel him/her kicking lazily here and there.

Never mind the logical part of my head was telling me that I was trying to feel kicks at times s/he tends to not kick much (I'm guessing s/he's asleep during those times - they do sleep in there, you know!) and the fact I was feeling kicks at all was a good sign at least.

Never mind I knew s/he had moved into a new position a couple of days ago so it could just be that s/he's kicking towards my back instead of my front.

Oh, no, the fact that I wasn't feeling the massive strong kicks I've come to expect from Cookie had convinced me that I'd lost another one. I started making plans last night and everything - "I'll let Scott go to work, then call him when he finishes and tell him to meet me at the hospital because I'm worried. Then we'll do the scan, confirm what I know, go home to pack bags..." I seriously had it all planned out. Right down to the plot in the cemetery where we'd be burying another child. I even (this is so hard to say, and please don't judge me...) planned where I was going to ask to be buried, because I was going to kill myself.

I got up, had a drink of water, and sat on the couch and started thinking about what kind of stuff I might want to pack. "Maybe I should do it now?" I thought, but decided I was too tired and went back to bed. I lay on my back for a little bit, hands on my belly, and thought about my babies. I felt guilt that I've bonded more with this one than I ever did with Ianto. I felt sadness that I'd lost two in one year, and this one so close to Xmas too! I felt paranoia that I'd never be able to carry a child to term. I felt... a massive kick, right under my hand! I'd been thinking about it all for so long that the time had clicked over into an "awake time" for Cookie, and s/he was kicking as usual! I could even distictly feel where his/her bum was, for the very first time! (I'm guessing bum, could have been a head...)

Of course, I immediately burst into tears, waking Scott up in the process. Now he thought something was wrong, and I tried with all my might to explain that it was okay, they were half happy tears, half "oh s***, I have another 13 weeks of this worry!" tears. He hugged me with his hands on my belly and felt a few kicks himself. That's all he needs. Not me, I'm still worried! I know how quickly things can turn around, so my happiness was short-lived.

So, twenty seven weeks of being fairly cruisy about this pregnancy, and now I'm scared. How am I supposed to trust my body and my baby for the next thirteen?