When we lost Gabbie I didn't realize she was slowing down. I didn't realize she had stopped. Me. No one else. And though I know it wouldn't have mattered had I been able to tell she was leaving us because it was most likely too late I still know it was me that never noticed she was slowing down and slowly falling asleep forever. And say what you will, I mean seriously, if I can't entirely convince myself it wasn't at least partly my fault after a year and a half do you think there is something you can say that will? Have at it. The guilt doesn't hinder my existence. I still play with my girls and am happy in life. I am not consumed by it. I feel fulfilled by them in the compartments of my heart that are theirs to fill. I laugh and dream and love and hope. The guilt is still there and will always be I think. It is now a part of me just as my girls' smiles and laughter and my husband's love is.
I went to the doctor and had the anatomy sonogram. The baby is healthy and beautiful with its 10 toes and 10 fingers. This is wonderful. Something I by no means am taking for granted. While the sonographer attempted to find and record the blood flow I held my breath that it was all alright. And it was. I wait often as though on a cliff precariously waiting for a heavy gust of tragic news to blow me over the edge. But all is well. Except that at 18 weeks I have not felt it move. I was told the placenta is anterior and as such it provides a cushion preventing me from feeling it. It is a perfectly safe medical reason for not feeling it move and we will continue this way until it (the sweet baby) is big enough to take up more space.
My issue is this: How am I to know the baby is still moving if I can't feel it? How am I supposed to know I'm not failing again if I have no idea if it's active? My safety net in my head has been stolen by my own body again and I can only wait and trust that it will be okay. And I know, at least there's a reason why I can't feel the kicks besides... Besides death. Yes I know. But that gives cold comfort when I was so counting on being able to be the diligent observer of the baby's movements in my own body. It was the preparation in my head.
"We can try again," I thought," I want to try again. And this time I will be so careful to make sure the baby keeps moving. I will keep track and maybe this time I won't fail for it. I will be able to be so much more careful."
But now? How? How am I supposed to let go and hope and trust that it will be ok? It makes me angry at myself (which I know makes no sense because none of this was my fault and I do mean NONE.. Yet still...), sad, disheartened, scared, helpless... I lost my sweet Gabbie because I didn't know and didn't keep count and now? I can't count and know even less. The safety net in my head is gone. I am so thankful it is healthy, and am so terrified I'll miss it moving (that I won't even have that, those kicks and flutters) and it'll stop and I'll lose it without even those precious little movements and then what? Then what?
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