I've been to the doctor three times this week. Each visit, Hannah got a NST. She passed them all. On Wednesday, she had one drop in her heart rate that scared the crap out of me. She recovered quickly and did well afterwards. The NP said that sometimes they roll over on their cords or something and it is how they recover that matters the most. I'm trying hard to believe that.
She's already bigger than her brother was at 36 weeks and 'they' say that movements change (don't stop, but change) as babies get bigger because they run out of room. Is this true?
We're almost 35 weeks now and have two weeks to go. My doctor has decided that (unless the high risk OB has a conflict) we'll be doing an amnio on May 7. Two weeks...
two weeks feels like forever.
I am afraid just about every minute of the day. When I'm sleeping and wake up to roll over, I wait and wonder if she's okay. I wait for her to move. Sometimes I get something before I fall back asleep, and sometimes I don't. When I wake up in the morning, I think about the night before and whether or not I felt her move when I rolled over. I'm constantly wondering if her movements are normal or erratic or sluggish. I don't trust myself to know what is normal and what is something to be concerned about.
For the past week or so, I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, but I don't know if it's the combination of fear and the reality of my past experience with Owen or if it's real and there is something wrong. What do I do with these thoughts and feelings?
And there's still two weeks left to go...
I've been told countless times that I can always go into the office every day and get a NST and on the weekends I can go to L&D. The problem with that is I can't live there. I can't stay hooked up to a monitor 24/7.
I have NO idea how to get through the next two weeks. I expected this to be hard, but I didn't expect it to be so terrifying. Nothing reassures me these days and there is hardly peace when I pray.
Choosing to trust the Lord has never been this difficult or this uncomfortable. I literally feel like I could jump out of my skin.
I am verging on desperate.
I am so thankful that I'm free to struggle with these things. Knowing that I don't have to put on a show and pretend that I'm not struggling is unbelievably comforting. Thank you for being a part of my safe place. And praise God, we are safe with him.