I’m a day late with this post. No time yesterday but today I’m convalescing and trying to get over a sinus infection, so I’m here at home, stressing out over my to-do list and shoving toilet paper up my nose. Bleh. I’ve made lots of phone calls today to try and put a dent in the things I need to take care of, only to be stymied at every turn. To console myself, I have napped and poured orange juice down my swollen throat. I miss drugs.
Saturday I bought a little yellow leather-bound notebook. I’ve been using it to write down names I like, and do jot down my (near) daily kick counts. So far, so good. I’m pretty sure he’s still breech because I can feel him tap-dancing on my cervix sometimes. If you’ve never felt someone poke at your cervix from the inside, you sure are missing out.
This week the darling progeny should be the size of a banana. But hopefully not the shape.
We have a 7:30 a.m. appointment with a perinatologist Thursday. I’m not sure what it’ll entail but I hope we get some answers and especially some reassurance about the likelihood of everything being okay. I’m trying to mentally ready myself for the worst, but I’m in a funny spot. I can’t halt the excitement and the growing anticipation of what’s to come. We’ve got to ready the nursery and get things in order for my leave from work. We should probably be thinking seriously about childcare for when I return to work (even though I fantasize about taking a long break to stay home with the baby). We’ve got to round up money. Somehow. Schedule childbirth and breastfeeding classes. Pick a name. So much. I don’t know how you can mentally prepare for a normal outcome and a disastrous one at the same time. I’m not sure you can. Or that I really want to.
Anyway. This pregnancy hasn’t been physically difficult (yet) but it has been emotionally and mentally taxing in ways I never imagined. The literal craziness of the first couple of months nearly killed me. No, really. I almost checked out. But then that subsided and I just spent my time counting to week 12, terrified every time I went to pee that I’d see blood. Week 12 came and I got a few blissful weeks of feeling like everything was going to be fine. And then the complications started popping up. As I told Lesley the other day, I would have much rather spent the first month or two hugging the toilet nonstop if it would have meant I could avoid the worry down the line. But I don’t have control over any of this. I want to trust my body to do its thing and do it well.
Last night I dreamed that someone put me in charge of a tiny child whose limbs were made of plastic. Every time I went to touch the little girl, her extremities would melt into coiled, stringy versions of themselves. She didn’t seem to be hurting, but she was deformed and unable to use her arms, and I felt so awful about returning her to her parents that way. Macabre.
I am happy. My belly is rounding out and I’m finding it harder to get around, especially up and down out of bed or off the couch. Most days are filled with sweetness and daydreams and moments where I can sit and feel the flutters inside me. I like to picture what sort of acrobatics must be going on in there for me to feel what I feel. I like to think about his face and how some day I will be able to hold it close to mine. I like to imagine that he is strong and stubborn just like his parents, and that come hell or high water, he is coming to live with us in a few months so we best be ready.
Most of the time I felt kicks, it was on my lower left side. And when she got bigger (around 26 weeks), she’d make a huge shift and it felt like she was taking most of my innards with her. I can’t wait until you can see his little elbow or knee poking at you. *That* is a really fun thing to see. And daddies love it.
P was breech. I spent the last week pregnant laying up side down trying to get her to flip. I completely understand your fears. I’m thinking of you and please let me know if you need anything, even just an ear. And don’t sweat the classes to hard, I didn’t take a breastfeeding class and we did just fine. :)
Aren’t all the emotions Moms go through something else? I think, even with no abnormal “markers” or even thoughts of such, Moms go through this anyway. Your dad and I have uncanny easiness through all this. We feel all will be well. :)