Thursday, April 14, 2011
I'm coming up on only five weeks left of pregnancy! The
other day, my cousin Jamie sent me a couple layettes and this adorable denim
outfit for baby girl to grow into. Hanging it up in my closet, I felt so much
excitement! I'm really having a baby!
Of course, if I was being truly honest with myself, I will recognize that my very first thought (while quick and short) was, "Will I really have a daughter live that long to fit into this?" As silly as that sounds, and as a little ashamed as I am to admit that, it is evidence that some of my anxiety is creeping back. Sometimes I can step back and realize everything will be okay. I see my future as I once did as a child: I will grow up, get married, have kids and grand kids, and live a normal life. But now that normalcy has been squashed, I don't know if i can ever feel completely comfortable with that vision. I know it will happen . . . and yet, at the same time, I still find many moments when I'm anticipating loss.
I wake up in the middle of the night, every night, sometimes frantic and worried when I find myself sleeping on my back. How long had I been lying in that forbidden position, possibly cutting off oxygen and blood-flow to baby? or whatever it is that the warning is about. I roll back over to my side, my hand rubbing my tummy, searching for signs of life. Sometimes I know I'm being silly and fall right back to sleep. Other times, I lay there worrying and wondering until all I can do is go back to sleep and hope she moves for me in the morning. Throughout the day, I offer a silent prayer to Heavenly Father: "Please don't take this one, too. I can't do it twice -- at least not twice in a row. I can't survive much longer without being a mother again." The thought of losing this baby and starting all over terrifies me. I cannot go back to where I was for six months after Ty passed away, aching for pregnancy and desperately searching for hope when my greatest joy was taken from me. I cannot be stuck in this state of limbo while I continue to wait.
Of course, each time I have these conversations in my head or with God, I then realize, "Yes, I can do this. I can do whatever is asked of me. No matter what hurt I experience, I will be eventually be fine, just like I am now." But then it becomes more a feeling of, But I don't want to! I feel myself slipping into that fear, even when I try and turn my back on it. I walk the other direction, but it's like the floor is a runway, rolling beneath me in the opposite direction. I can only walk on and hope that as I cling to prayer and gospel principles that my steps will be strengthened and I will continue to make strides against the pull. I cannot let myself fear the future that is out of my control. I just need to deal with it as it comes, reminding myself that realistically, everything will probably be just fine. I went to the temple this week for the first time in months. I left, knowing I need to go back as often as I can before the baby comes. That's where my peace and strength will derive from. My goal is to attend at least once a week, if not twice. Fear cannot conquer me there.
On a more fun note, my tummy is moving like crazy as I'm typing. The baby is still lying at a weird angle. I usually feel her knobby feet or legs poking out on my left, with her little bum favoring just under my right rib. Just like Ty, she seems to like nestling in that most uncomfortable spot for me. I try and nudge her elsewhere but she won't budge. I was last told her head is positioned downwards towards my right hip, so I guess she's lying curved like a banana. Not quite what we're going for but there's still time for her to better align herself in a birthing position. For now, she and my growing uterus continue to tag-team my bladder all day, all night. I've always been really sensitive to a full bladder when I'm not pregnant, so it's safe to say it's my least favorite aspect of pregnancy. I've also completely quit working out the last two weeks, which seems to have helped the pubic bone pain. But then there are days like yesterday and today where the pain sky-rockets to a 10 on the pain scale (and I never hand out 10's), usually in the evenings. Maybe just being on my feet is too much to ask, but that can't be helped, so what's a prego-girl to do?? Nothing but stick it out. Not much longer!
Of course, if I was being truly honest with myself, I will recognize that my very first thought (while quick and short) was, "Will I really have a daughter live that long to fit into this?" As silly as that sounds, and as a little ashamed as I am to admit that, it is evidence that some of my anxiety is creeping back. Sometimes I can step back and realize everything will be okay. I see my future as I once did as a child: I will grow up, get married, have kids and grand kids, and live a normal life. But now that normalcy has been squashed, I don't know if i can ever feel completely comfortable with that vision. I know it will happen . . . and yet, at the same time, I still find many moments when I'm anticipating loss.
I wake up in the middle of the night, every night, sometimes frantic and worried when I find myself sleeping on my back. How long had I been lying in that forbidden position, possibly cutting off oxygen and blood-flow to baby? or whatever it is that the warning is about. I roll back over to my side, my hand rubbing my tummy, searching for signs of life. Sometimes I know I'm being silly and fall right back to sleep. Other times, I lay there worrying and wondering until all I can do is go back to sleep and hope she moves for me in the morning. Throughout the day, I offer a silent prayer to Heavenly Father: "Please don't take this one, too. I can't do it twice -- at least not twice in a row. I can't survive much longer without being a mother again." The thought of losing this baby and starting all over terrifies me. I cannot go back to where I was for six months after Ty passed away, aching for pregnancy and desperately searching for hope when my greatest joy was taken from me. I cannot be stuck in this state of limbo while I continue to wait.
Of course, each time I have these conversations in my head or with God, I then realize, "Yes, I can do this. I can do whatever is asked of me. No matter what hurt I experience, I will be eventually be fine, just like I am now." But then it becomes more a feeling of, But I don't want to! I feel myself slipping into that fear, even when I try and turn my back on it. I walk the other direction, but it's like the floor is a runway, rolling beneath me in the opposite direction. I can only walk on and hope that as I cling to prayer and gospel principles that my steps will be strengthened and I will continue to make strides against the pull. I cannot let myself fear the future that is out of my control. I just need to deal with it as it comes, reminding myself that realistically, everything will probably be just fine. I went to the temple this week for the first time in months. I left, knowing I need to go back as often as I can before the baby comes. That's where my peace and strength will derive from. My goal is to attend at least once a week, if not twice. Fear cannot conquer me there.
On a more fun note, my tummy is moving like crazy as I'm typing. The baby is still lying at a weird angle. I usually feel her knobby feet or legs poking out on my left, with her little bum favoring just under my right rib. Just like Ty, she seems to like nestling in that most uncomfortable spot for me. I try and nudge her elsewhere but she won't budge. I was last told her head is positioned downwards towards my right hip, so I guess she's lying curved like a banana. Not quite what we're going for but there's still time for her to better align herself in a birthing position. For now, she and my growing uterus continue to tag-team my bladder all day, all night. I've always been really sensitive to a full bladder when I'm not pregnant, so it's safe to say it's my least favorite aspect of pregnancy. I've also completely quit working out the last two weeks, which seems to have helped the pubic bone pain. But then there are days like yesterday and today where the pain sky-rockets to a 10 on the pain scale (and I never hand out 10's), usually in the evenings. Maybe just being on my feet is too much to ask, but that can't be helped, so what's a prego-girl to do?? Nothing but stick it out. Not much longer!
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