When I was around 24 weeks pregnant with Kaden, everyone gave a huge sigh of relief. I’d made it to the “safe(r)” zone and past where I’d lost Preston and Julian. His ultrasounds were good. My cerclage was in place and things weren’t changing down there. I remember my OB saying after an ultrasound, “Things look great.”
I asked my therapist the next day, “Is it strange that I felt the need to ask her to look again? To make sure? I almost couldn’t believe her.” She assured me this was perfectly normal, that with Bella’s crazy pregnancy and the twins – it was natural to feel that things couldn’t be ok this time.
Sometimes I wonder if I’d asked her to look again, if we might have known, caught something…
Leaning against the counter today at my 34 week appointment, the high risk doctor told me she doesn’t see a need for more ultrasounds from here on out (although Sam asked for the one we have next week as our last), and no reason to start anything else.
“She’s good,” she said. “We can’t see anything and honestly, even if we could there isn’t much we could do. We think you’re both ok.”
I wanted to punch her in the face.
That might seem harsh, and it is – of course. It’s horrible, and she’s a wonderful doctor. It’s not personal, it’s me. What mother wouldn’t want to hear that her baby was doing so well she didn’t need more treatments or procedures? That I’ve almost beat the odds with preterm labor and no meds to help that, that I’ve walked a fourth round of hyperemesis (and still vomiting) without landing in the hospital, that every ultrasound comes back with a thumbs up?
Isn’t that the news anyone would want to hear?
Yet it shook me to my core. The thought of this being over, the reality that somewhere between now and the next few weeks Charlotte is going to be here and there’s nothing more I can do at that point. My body did the work for Kaden and kept him alive. I worry that it’s doing the same for her, that there is an unknown and we’re just prolonging it by me still being pregnant.
I don’t know how I haven’t let myself go crazy with worry this pregnancy except I’ve been able to keep my mind busy enough not to fixate all the time. Once in a while (usually at night) I drift into any and every situation that could happen, but it’s so painful to think of Kaden’s ordeal that I have to stop.
There is a part of me that feels like if this happens again, I will shut down. I can’t fathom going through any of this a third time. I know a myriad of things could happen that might still result in us taking her home – happy and healthy – but I am just so, so exhausted emotionally and mentally from the rollercoaster that I can only pray for a full term, healthy baby with no NICU time. Tell me she’s fine and let me go home – that’s what my heart wants so much. In any other situation, this might seem a bit much to ask/hope for given my history. Realistically, going to the NICU or needing a little help isn’t the end of the world at all. But when you’ve been told before that “it’s just the NICU” and “at least your baby is healthy” and “he’ll be home in no time, calm down” – trying to wrap your head around being ok and rational with that situation again is hard to do.
I don’t know. I’m just writing on here in hopes that it’ll calm my fears. I thought about this post all the way home, something about putting what happened into words makes things clearer for me.
Sometimes I feel like if I write this enough or try to sort out things, God will take pity on us and intervene with anything that might happen. I don’t know how that all works still, but then judging by the number of different opinions I get when I say things like this, neither does anyone else. I’m unsure what to pray for, how to pray it, and so I often just look up when it’s too painful to process this any further and whisper, “Please.”