I wrote this post titled “Impending doom” on October 15, 2011 after several days of heavy spotting. I’ve held on to this post with tight fingers only hoping that my worst fears would not be realized. I was only 7 weeks pregnant at the time that I wrote this and I was absolutely terrified. Up to this point in my life, it was the most terrified I had ever been.
I feel confident publishing this post now, as everything is ok and I am now entering my 30th week. The baby in my belly is active every day, squirming and kicking and punching my bladder with a smile on its face, I am sure. I have a scheduled c-section for May 18th 2012.
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I am terrified.
Its times like these that lots of girls take to their friends and go public with their problems-receiving a flooding of reassurance, blessings and good will.
Not me though. When something is wrong I have a tendency to shell up. I keep quiet; I ride the storm under the covers until it has passed. Then I talk about it-once the clouds have passed and I have had time to process it all.
I won’t be publishing this post but I do wish I could.
If only I could get the support without the attention
The reassurance without the sorrow
The camaraderie without the whispers
The shoulder to cry on without the pity
Two weeks ago I took a positive pregnancy test.
My reaction was immediate tears, selfishness and sorrow. Not the typical response someone usually has at a blessing. I felt it was too soon, my daughter is only 14 months old, I felt selfishness at my own career and the hold that would be required to put on it. I felt sorrow for my two kids and our family in general. We just got used to being a family of four and now we’d have to adjust and squeeze to five.
Yesterday I started spotting. It hasn’t stopped. I’ve called my OBGYN, my RN and the nurse’s hotline several times.
I am terrified.
I feel guilty. I feel shame.
I feel as though I have brought this upon myself.
I never accepted this baby. I never got excited. I told only a small handful of people that I was pregnant and I swore them all to secrecy. I’d like to think that maybe that was going to happen, maybe if this impending doom wasn’t upon me that tomorrow I would have woken up excited about this pregnancy and having an urge to share our good news.
I am scared that I will never have that chance.
My husband is certain that everything is fine. I find solace in his confidence and I try really hard to believe him. I’m just not certain though. The practical side of me is expecting the worst. I dread every trip to the restroom, every nagging bubble in my stomach.
I sit and I “relax” per requested by my OB, RN and other nurses and I imagine my uterus as hands with fingers intertwined, cradling and clutching the baby to it. Using its thumb to keep the babies heart beating. I am willing this baby to live.
I am hoping and I am praying that tomorrow everything will be fine. That Tuesday’s ultrasound will prove an alive, healthy baby. I am hoping that May 25th will come and in my arms will be my 3rd and final baby.
Is that too much to ask? Maybe I should just stop and be thankful for the two beautiful children I already have and not expect anything more.
But I just can’t help it.
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Above is a very personal post. Perhaps the most personal thing that I have written to date. Reading back on it now I can tell how very painful it was for me to write. It’s short and to the point. It convey’s feeling without too much sadness. The last thing I would ever want to do is make someone else sad, or make someone else have pity on me. I can see that so clearly now in the words that I wrote that night.
I have closed the comments but please feel free to contact me via email (DesireeEaglin@aol.com) if you would like to share your similar story. I just don’t like pity parties and I want no pity from any of you. There are so many women out there with very similar stories like mine that don’t get to ever meet their baby.
I am lucky. My baby will live.
