Paralyzing Fear

This week has been challenging, to say the least.

We had our follow up ultrasound on Monday. We got in right at 4pm, but this time the technician was terrible. As soon as I got in the room, the technician said she needed to find some images that the last tech wasn't able to get. But instead of knowing beforehand what images she needed, she decided to ask me... She said she had a few of them written down but wasn't sure of the rest. I had to tell her the ones I knew about and then she had to leave the room (for what felt like hours) to go search for my anatomy scan results. She found what she needed, told me the cord is a 3 vessel cord (they were worried it may be 2 vessel, which has the potential to cause issues), printed off a picture and told me the results would be at the midwives' office in a few days. She didn't even ask if Derek was in the waiting room to come see his daughter. Nor did she show me the baby on the screen. I could only see her because I was watching the screen the entire time. It was a really disappointing appointment. Needless to say, for future ultrasounds I will be requesting a different tech if she is the one to come get me in the future.

Of course afterwards, all I could think about was what was wrong. I kept thinking that maybe she saw something and that is why she was terrible. I called the midwives' office today to have them read the results over the phone, and am just waiting for their return call. Anxiously waiting, I should say...

I was feeling a little bit better by Tuesday morning. I started to think that maybe she was just a really terrible ultrasound tech and there probably isn't anything wrong. I also realized that if anything was severely wrong with the baby, they would have got an OB in right there to tell us and wouldn't have let us leave the hospital. This was a little bit reassuring to me.

I worked 2-10pm on Tuesday, and it was fairly steady. I wasn't paying much attention to her movements like I normally do. I have been able to feel her move for almost 10 weeks now, and by this point she is moving regularly. When I got home at 10:30pm, I got changed and sat on the couch with Derek. Usually when I sit down and start to relax I can feel her move like crazy, but Tuesday night was different. I couldn't feel her at all. I gently pressed on my belly to see if she would start moving around - and she didn't. I laid down on my side and still nothing. At this point I was getting pretty worried. I told Derek I was having a hard time feeling her move. I drank some chocolate milk to try to get her moving around with all of that sugar. Still nothing.

I could literally feel my body going into panic mode. I felt paralyzed. Derek asked if we should go to the hospital. But before 24 weeks, there isn't much they can do if the baby isn't moving. Also, at this point, a Non-Stress Test won't give an accurate reading of the baby. We decided we should wait it out. We both sat in silence for an hour on the couch together. Hoping and praying that she would move. And she still didn't.

Eventually I decided I was going to head up to bed. I thought that maybe getting ready for bed and the sound of running water would wake her up (she always moves lots when I'm doing the dishes, in the shower, or washing my face before bed). Still nothing. Derek came to bed around 1am. By this point it had been 2.5 hours since I was trying to feel her. In my head, I had already assumed the worst. But still I kept waiting for her to move, even a little bit.

We turned out the lights and decided to try and fall asleep. Five minutes later, she moved! We were so relieved! The little bum must have been sleeping and decided to take an extra long nap.

At 22 weeks, most moms wouldn't think twice about not feeling the baby for a little while. But when you've lived through the worst, being aware of movement becomes an obsession. An obsession that is based on very real fear, and knowing firsthand that when a baby's movements decrease, this can indicate a major problem.

While I was so relieved to feel her moving, I was also angry. Not angry at her, but angry that this fear we feel is so very real. Angry that for the next 16 weeks, we are going to walk in the fear of "will our baby live, or won't she?" Angry that even if she gets here safe, sound, and breathing, we are going to be fearful of her losing her life to SIDS.

While I wish I could say "fear will not win," part of me feels like it already is. I love this little girl more and more every day, and as I become more hopeful for her life, the fear increases. Most moms are worried in the first trimester, and then this decreases as time goes on and the viability of the baby's life increases. This is the opposite for us. As time goes on, I become more fearful that this sweet baby girl won't be coming home with us.

These days the fear is just as strong as the hope.