M was able to feel the baby kick for the first time a few days ago. He’s amazed that something that’s only about 10 inches long and 10.5 ounces can pack that much power. The acrobatics this kid performs! He’s a true underwater trapeze artist, if ever there was one.
I’ve been spending time at the crossroad of fear and paranoia, and long for the blissful, relatively worry free (sha-right!) days that were weeks 14-17. That sounds darker and deeper than I mean it, but I don’t know how else to say it. “Tenuous” is a good word to describe how I’m feeling. On one hand, all the kicking and the rolling and the moving has made this finally feel real. On the other, this finally feels real and I’m freaked out about how much I stand to lose if things don’t work out.
I think my previous losses make me particularly prone to this sort of illness. That and all the talk about cervical incompetence lately. Every baby show I watch on TV has some woman or another who lost a baby at 18 weeks, 22 weeks, 23 weeks to this stealthy killer. Then there’s my friend at work whose wife lost their baby at 20 weeks. Because it’s hit so close to home and because I’m smack in the middle of prime risk time, I’m worried. Not overly so, but in the back of my mind it’s always there.
As I fell to sleep last night, with my belly jumping and vibrating with movement, I prayed some sort of incoherent but heartfelt prayer about the safety and health of this baby. This morning, as I broke through the layers of sleep and struck back into consciousness, I saw two images: one of a tiny baby in a hooded blue sleeper being cradled against M’s shoulder and another of a baby snug in an infant carrier. I considered those images the reassurance I’m in desperate need of.
But still the thoughts nag at me. I Googled “signs of cervical incompetence” so I know what to look for. Turns out, there are really no signs or symptoms, since it often happens without the mother even knowing what’s going on until it’s too late. So, I called the ultrasound place and asked them if they have a written report of my visit two weeks ago. With all the excitement centered on the baby and making sure all his parts were there and functioning, none of us (ultrasound tech included) were really thinking about me and my cervix. So, I’m pretty sure I’ll be making a trip to the imaging center tomorrow to show my ID and get a copy of the report in person to review and analyze to death to see if it tells me whether my cervix was competent or not two weeks ago. Or maybe I’ll just finally play the “panicked pregnant woman” card and call up my doc and beg to be checked out just to ease my mind. Or maybe I’ll just do both since the imaging place is on the way to my doc’s office anyway.
In other news, another girl at church has joined the little Pregnancy Brigade that L and I started. She’s 8 weeks along and already announcing. I guess it’s just me that’s too paranoid to tempt fate like that. It literally freaks me out, especially when I hear of a friend of a friend going in for their 12 week visit and finding out the baby stopped developing. I think only those who’ve experienced pregnancy loss really think about it in that way and consider always the chances that “something could happen”. 25% of all pregnancies is not a small number. And it feels as big as the world when you’re the one becoming part of that statistic.
I got to see C’s new baby last Saturday. She’s SO cute! She’s perfect and healthy and well. It makes me realize that just because it happens every day, healthy babies being born is no less of a fascinating miracle!
As for me, I’m hoping my kid is the obedient kind and that he listens when I tell him not to dare come out ‘til he’s good and cooked. Also, if he could clue me in on what we should call him when he gets here, that’d be great.
~Nichole
No comments:
Post a Comment