Saturday

Week 33

33 weeks was the actual week that Sybella died. She died at 33 weeks and 5 days, approximately. She was born at 34 weeks and 1 day.
This week was so consumed by anxiety that I wondered if I was losing my mind. My stomach was in a constant knot. I couldnt keep food down. I stopped sleeping, after hearing that most babies die at night, when the mother is asleep because thats when her blood pressure drops. Constipation pain became a placental abruption, in my mind.
I turned up to hospital daily. Some staff were more than understanding. Others wanted me to get my act together. One particular midwife told me "I'm just a midwife. I cant cope with your anxiety. I dont know what to do for you." My response? "All you have to do is put the transducer on. That is all." I dont want anyone to have to "cope" with my anxiety. I know it's irrational. No-one can take it away, and I think that many midwives think that I want them to. I dont. All I want, is to turn up for heart monitoring without resistance or questions. I dont want to explain myself. I just want to say "I am anxious today. I am having a bad day. Can I please hear the baby's heartbeat?" Then I want them to agree, and hook me up, and leave me alone to concentrate on that beautiful thudding.
At 33 weeks and 6 days, I saw an obstetrician, not The Boss, as he was on holidays. I saw his replacement. I spilled everything. I told her I wasnt coping. She set me up with a hospital psychiatrist, who was lovely and helpful. We discussed an inpatient admission to the Maternity ward. Although the thought was alluring, logistically, I have Jack's birthday and first day of school coming up and dont want to miss those.
I am deeply fearful and am doubting more and more every day that I will birth this baby alive. Instinctively, I know he is okay. I know he is strong, and I can "see" him. But I am so profoundly affected by Sybella's death that my confidence and trust is completely shot.

There is even a point now where I wonder if too much movement is an issue! For the last two days, Rainbow Baby has had 15-20 minute bursts of energy (usually after a meal) where he doesnt stop wriggling at all. He calms down after a while and goes back to his normal pattern. But of course, I wonder "is he okay?"

I have a c-section booked for Feb 21. I wont feel at peace until then. 

See Baby This Week

Week 32

I think from now until the birth will be exactly the same. A rollercoaster of manic emotion and fear. I have tried to keep a lid on my anxiety, but I have given up. Let them think I am a lunatic. Let them worry about me and discuss how to handle me. I'm past it, beyond caring. I openly admit to hospital staff: "I am not coping." I turn up for fetal heart monitoring for no reason now, and dont even bother making up an excuse. "I want to listen to the heartbeat," I say. Unapologetically. At Maternal Fetal Medicine, I request ultrasounds unashamedly. I am always accomodated, which I do appreciate. If anyone dares to question my mental state and whether I am overreacting, God help them. I have terrible visions of the same thing happening all over again. My heart starts to pound when I imagine the possibility of my baby boy coming out, sleeping...having to go through it all over again, the funeral, the grief, the pity, the explanations for Jack. Oh, Jack. He is old enough now to really understand that there is a baby coming soon. If something were to happen...the burden of Jack's pain alone would be enough to send me into eternal catatonia.
He talks to the baby, sings to him. The fear of my boy living through the death of two of his siblings is unbearable.
All of this is what pushes me past my embarrasment of presenting to the hospital so often. If I can do anything to ensure this baby's health and safety, I will.

Even though most people are nice about it, some of them really dont understand.
All I can say to them is: "This is my child. My child."

See Baby This Week

Week 31

My 31st week coincided with the horrid lack of routine of Christmas. Kelvin was home, everything was a constant mess in the lead up to Christmas. Jack was hysterical with excitement and his sleep routines were off.
I dont cope well in this environment. I cope best when I know that Tuesday is cleaning day, Thursday is grocery day, Wednesdays are appointment days etc. When my routine is thrown, my anxiety levels hit the roof. And that, they did, this week.
I knew that Maternal Fetal Medicine were not open through Christmas, and The Boss was not readily available...all the public holidays were confusing, and that void of time between Christmas and New Year was horrendous.
This also co-incided with the information that my 1 hour Glucose Tolerance Test came back with elevated sugar levels. As a result, I needed to have the 2 hour challenge. As I waited for the results, I was advised to stick to a low GI diet, that included wholemeal rubbish. The sudden lack of sugar in my diet affected the baby's movements, as I had previously used sugar to get his movements kickstarted. Now there was virtually no sugar in my diet, I am sure he was very annoyed! I could just picture him, rolling his eyes. "Muuuuuuu-uuum! What's this Basmati crap you keep sending down? Water? Water? What about orange juice??"
So, yes, he was very quiet, and coupled with the fact that I didnt have my usual tools of reassurance readily at hand, I lost my mind over Christmas.
I went to the hospital for fetal heart monitoring every second day, on average. Once I even went twice in a day. That day, I noticed alarm bells going off with the midwives. They were getting "worried." From the outside, I could see, that as professionals, they had every right to be concerned. My behaviour was irrational. It was beyond normal boundaries. I knew that too. But didnt care. Because 8 months ago, I held a funeral for my baby. Because I have my baby's ashes on my mantlepiece. Because my husband has a tattoo of her name on his arm. When I go back to that place, my irrational behaviour doesnt seem so irrational.
It so happens, that my 2 hour Glucose Challenge was normal and within range. I amped up the sugar again (not really!)...and Rainbow Baby seems much happier. His movements have changed again. Rather than jabs, he rolls and pushes. I remember Jack doing that. It is reassuring.
I lay in bed this very morning, feeling him roll around. I had been taught how to find the head, and I had my hand over the hard area that was Rainbow Baby's head. I palpated softly, amazed that I could feel the head so clearly. Suddenly, the hard area was no longer "hard"! It gave way and became soft. It was such a disconcerting feeling that I verbally exclaimed "ooooh!" I immediately started thinking that I had pressed the fontanelle...I had poked out an eye...I had dented his forehead. Although I hadnt been pushing that hard, the "dip" I felt was very real and overt. I was told repeatedly that the most likely scenario was that Rainbow Baby got irritated by the pressing and slid his head out of the way. I definitely had not pressed harder than The Boss or any midwife who had palpated my abdomen previously. I kept telling myself that I couldnt have done anything too horrendous to the baby with skin, uterine muscle and amniotic fluid in between us! That's the nature of pregnancy after loss, though. You worry about every little thing.

See Baby This Week