Week 29

Good days and bad days. That's what I have to live with at the moment. I never know what is coming, whether it is a good day or bad day, but they seem to come in runs. A few good days, followed by a few bad ones.
I mostly walk around in a state of disconnect and apathy. When I happen to be sitting down, and the baby gives me a kick, I am filled with complete euphoria for about two seconds. I am overwhelmingly in love, and I take that as a good sign. A sign that the baby is strong and healthy. I always knew there was something "not right" about Sybella's pregnancy and so when she kicked me, I (subconciously) very rarely allowed myself  to connect with her when she moved. But when Rainbow Baby is having a dance in there, I am filled with wonder, just the way I was when I used to feel Jack. I never get tired of the kicks and jabs (although, by now they are more rolls and pushes)...even when I am trying to sleep and baby has the hiccups. I just lie there in the dark, one hand on my belly, and I smile.
Those are the good days.
The bad days, on the other hand...
The bad days are the ones where nothing gets done, because I am lying on the couch, an ice cold glass of water next to me, tears streaming down my face because I cant feel any movement. Or, I can feel movement but it isnt "satisfactory." Each time this happens, I am positive that this is the time my baby has left me. Sometimes I feel "empty" as if the baby has gone. Of course it hasnt, and there is usually a movement shortly after this panicky episode of fear. The movement doesnt abate my fear for that time, and I usually ring The Boss. One particular time, however, he wasnt in his rooms. He was on leave.
For me, this was the end of the world. Funnily, it ended up being a wonderful turn of events.
My last appointment with The Boss ended with him asking me, quite reasonably, whether I thought my anxiety was being managed properly. Was I on the right medication? Was I seeing the right psychologist? Was I functioning satisfactorily? He told me that the number of appointments I needed to get through wasnt "normal." That he had many women in the same situation as me, that were coping much better. That I wasnt special, or that my situation wasnt unique.
Look, he said all this very nicely. And personally, because it sounds harsh, I put it down to him having no sleep from delivering babies all night, and had just had it to the eye teeth with this maniac patient who was in his office every five minutes.
I did take it on board...but not very well.
So the next time I had a panic attack, I didnt call him, I called Delivery Suite. And they...sent me to a wonderful, secret place.
My hospital has a Maternal Fetal Medicine unit. Attached to that unit is a Day Assessment Clinic. Armed by two beautiful midwives, who sternly told me I was never to sit at home crying and waiting for baby to move. I must come straight in, whenever I needed to. On this particular day, I had Jack with me. Into a big armchair, I sat...much like the armchairs in Gold Class, with the levers on the side? A midwife strapped me up to a Fetal Heart Monitor, gave me and Jack a juice and a sandwich, gave Jack some toys...and left us there to listen to that beautiful heartbeat thumping along at 132 BPM. I hadnt felt so safe or validated in 29 weeks. I was so thankful to find this magical area.
A long talk with the midwives later, we settled on a schedule. Once a week I would go in for monitoring. If I needed to come in between, then that was perfectly fine.

It is my own special time with Rainbow Baby. Peaceful, quiet, alone. Listening to each other's heartbeats.

See Baby This Week