I’m not gonna sugar-coat this: I’m not doing very well.
A lot has been going on lately. (I know, I know – is my life ever actually simple? Perhaps it will be someday, but I rather doubt it.) The biggest development has been that we have made the difficult decision to move… again. When we moved into this place at the start of November 2014, we thought we were going to be grounded for at least a few years here, but it’s become less and less convenient over time and we’re now realizing that we have absolutely no space and privacy where we are now. It’s time to go, so we’re moving in with a family member who will charge us a bare minimum of rent so we can save up and meet some of our financial goals in a much timelier fashion and, very hopefully, get somewhere worth being before too long.
With that aside, Nathan is doing very well, for the most part. At my 30-week visit, we found out that he was nice enough to flip head-down for me, and although he is still measuring quite large, it’s not as drastic as it was before (he dropped from the 90th percentile to the 75th). We’re hoping he continues to do a bit of a backslide. His kidneys are also still a little dilated, but not as badly as they were before. Also, my water levels are now in a normal range!
While they were doing the scan and taking all the measurements and pictures, he was squirming around like crazy and giving the poor ultrasound tech a hard time in getting the shots she wanted. She couldn’t get a good angle on his kidneys, despite her best efforts, so she ended up calling in another tech to see if they could give her advice on how to get the right angle. Both of them were very sweet and attentive, and they shared a good laugh with us about the fact that, every time they got close to getting what they wanted, Nathan would move again (I don’t think he likes the ultrasound probe – he always seems to be trying to get away from it). Both remarked on how ‘happy’ he seemed to be, and his report stated he was ‘very active’.
So… with so much good news, why am I anxious? Because they always used to say the exact same things about Brock. At every ultrasound and checkup I had with him (except for the last scan before he passed), I always got the same news: that he was happy and healthy, everything was normal, and I had no reason for concern. That didn’t work out for me so well the first time, so now that the whole thing seems to be repeating itself almost verbatim, I’m particularly afraid that the ending will be the same, too. I have actually grown to hate movement, especially when he is active for long stretches of time. I end up paralyzed with fear that all his wiggling around and cartwheeling is going to get him caught in the cord, too. I’m pretty sure I just outright wouldn’t survive another loss, and I would certainly give up on my pursuit of children if something happened at this point; I’d just assume that it wasn’t meant to be, and I definitely wouldn’t have the heart to try again at this point. Maybe I’d adopt?
I was actually doing quite well in the anxiety department until 24 weeks, and it has just been going downhill from there. I think it’s because, as soon as I hit viability, I realized he had a reasonable chance of surviving out here, even if he showed up way too early… whereas, at this point, being inside of me feels like a death sentence because I’ve yet to have a live birth. I feel like, given enough time inside, he’s going to find a way to die, too… and it is stressing me right out. It’s truly depressing how many times a day I touch my belly and beg him not to die on me.
I have another 7 weeks and 2 days (or 50 days) to go before my induction starts, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it! I feel like such a basket case already. I miss that self-assured feeling I had at the beginning, when I felt blindly convinced that everything would work out fine.