photo credit: tumblr

I figured that at some point during this PAL something would concern me enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room. Well, last weekend it happened.

Friday night when I went to bed, I noticed that I hadn’t felt little peanut move for a while. She usually is super active around the time when I go to bed, but this time she didn’t seem to be moving so much. I tried poking around to encourage her to wiggle, but I couldn’t tell if it was helping. I went to sleep and decided to try not to worry about it. All throughout the night when I’d wake up to turn over (because you know, that’s just what pregnant ladies do), I’d stay awake for a little while to see if she was moving, but she wasn’t. By Saturday morning when I got up and started making breakfast for my son I was feeling completely depressed. Still no movement, so I called my doctor’s answering service to get in touch with my doctor. She called back promptly and suggested that I drink something cold and eat breakfast; then she said if nothing changed in the next 45 minutes to an hour to go ahead and to go the hospital. Just as I was hanging up my husband got up and asked what was going on. I filled him in and I could instantly see the worry/disappointment in his eyes.

We sat on the couch as I ate breakfast and drank some cold orange juice. We waited quietly (as quietly as you can with an active 2 year old boy in the house), hoping that baby girl would give us a sign that she was okay. We debated if it was worth it to go to the hospital or if I was just being paranoid. Neither of us liked being in this situation, being too familiar with the possibility that things could wrong. I think I was in denial and just plain old scared to go so I kept saying that we were fine and didn’t need to go to the hospital. Derek was silent and I could tell he was worried. Finally I asked him if it would make him feel better if we went; he said it would so we set about getting ready to leave.

Within minutes, Derek had gotten himself and Toby dressed and ready to go. I on the other hand felt the need to tidy up the house a bit. If we were going to the hospital, and things might be going south, I wanted to be sure that our home wasn’t a total disaster when we came back.

Finally we were out the door and on the road.

I’ll spare you all the super boring details of a long car ride involving a couple of stops because I wasn’t sure if I was feeling movement or not, and then getting checked into triage and all the questions I had to answer and cut right to it- everything was fine. As soon as the nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitor baby girl started wiggling so much that the nurse had to keep moving the doppler to keep up with her.

All in all we were in and out in about an hour.

You would think that after a good report I would be able to breath a sigh of relief and go on with my day… nope. I was in a slump for the rest of the day.

Of course I was relieved that everything was fine with baby and that she was back to her regular programming of squirming in my tummy, but the whole experience left me feeling starkly reminded that there is still a lot of time left in this pregnancy. There’s still lots of time for things to go wrong.

There’s still so far to go and I’m already feeling completely worn out, physically and emotionally.

I’m trying to embrace joy in this pregnancy because it really is a blessing, that’s not lost on me. I want to think hopefully and try to visualize holding my healthy baby girl. But it’s hard to find strength to keep going when I feel totally spent in every way all the time.

Yesterday was the start of week 24, the first viability milestone. I thought that reaching this point would bring some relief, and maybe there is a little comfort in knowing that with the passing of time my baby has a greater chance of survival; but there isn’t as much relief as I thought. Like I said there’s still so much time left with potential for things to go from good to bad.

The worst part is I feel so guilty for feeling all these things.

Here’s hoping and praying that the next few days and weeks will bring some greater relief and I’ll learn to hold on to hope.

Share this story!