I slept awful the night before last. My feet are swollen and D thinks it'd be best to get them higher. So I sat in my glider rocking chair pushed all the way to our bed, then elevated them by sitting in the chair with my legs up to my knees on the bed. It only worked for a bit. I got so uncomfortable I ended up trying to sleep back in the bed. That worked for a while, maybe an hour or so, then I was back in the chair with the ottoman. None of this lack of sleep really bothers me. I still function and I think I'm pleasant. I am also not complaining. I'm just explaining. Last night I slept more, though not soundly, through the night in my rocker, probably because of the lack of sleep the night before, and woke up hurting in my hips. It's the kind out hurt that requires someone to help me to sitting because I couldn't move them. Between the pain and the uncomfortableness I've had a plethora of time on my hands watching my husband sleep in our bed from across the room. I love that man... I can't wait to actually sleep back in our bed with him. He'll miss the extra room I'm sure. :)
When one doesn't sleep well the night provides a dark backdrop for memories and worries. Realizing I may have only 4 days until delivery I am finding it harder to think of anything else. The what ifs tumble out. They are not as bad as the memories. The memory of the last time I had a c-section floods back. I try to avoid the specifics. It's futile. If she isn't ready I will have to wait. At 38 weeks Gabbie stopped moving. That's when they MIGHT deliver if she fails her test. My water never broke with her. I never went in labor with her. But saying she does pass her test and I get to avoid that 38th week and the days leading up to it, the c-section thought and inevitability makes my heart palipitate and my breath catch in a lump.
When Gabbie was gone they tried to induce labor. They wanted me to push her out instead of having the c-section so that the recovery would be shorter. But, as I said, even with drugs to induce and attempts to break my water it never happened. What did happen is hours of contractions and a c-section anyway. Once they got me on the table in the OR I had to sit up to have the spinal put in and all the drugs they'd given to me previously had me so sick, the anesthesiologist had to wait until I could stop throwing up before he could give me anything to stop the pain. Then I remember the pop of the spinal tapping in. I hate that sound. Then laying on the table, I remember wanting them to be wrong. I wanted to hear her come out of me and cry. I held my breath and waited. But it was silent. No one spoke. I could hear sniffling, the sound of people trying to cry softly. I remember watching tears roll down D's face. My poor strong husband. I felt I failed him. The beeping of the machines I was hooked up to was the only other thing I remember hearing. This is my last memory in the OR for a c-section. This is what I have inside my head when I go in again.
I know it's necessary and I'm ok with it but the anxiety is so high. And then if she doesn't pass the test then that anxiety gets put on a back burner and I have the anxiety of the approaching 38 week mark. Here's the thing... you can tell me it's not my fault and the rational side agrees. But if in these couple days or the following week something were to happen, no matter what, it'd be my fault even if it's not my fault. Does that make sense? No of course it doesn't, because it's irrational. It is up to my diligence to protect her and every decision that gets made by me might effect the outcome. It is a real fear, my greatest fear, that I will fail again. (Even if I didn't "fail" the first time.) I will feel as though I failed my husband, my girls, everyone. Please don't get into how it's not my fault... I get it. I do. But wasting your breath to convince me otherwise in my irrational hormonal extremely tired and pregnant state would be an exercise in futility.
I try to take these one day at a time. I look at my beautiful daughters and know I succeeded twice with God's grace to have two beautiful healthy sweet girls. I know no one blames me for losing Gabbie and that I shouldn't blame myself even if this one becomes an angel. On most days I have myself convinced she'll be fine. A part of me is skeptical that I'll actually come home with a baby and then I tell myself that there are handful of doctors who want to succeed as badly as I do in the birth of a baby girl who is healthy. I am well watched and well taken care of by an excellent team of ladies. I know my husband has faith in me too. I know a lot of people have faith that she will come home. So I really rely on those thoughts to beat off the negativity and deep deep fears of failure. And in an attempt to not worry I agreed to go camping with my family this weekend. Maybe nature will be good for my soul. Maybe it'll renew my faith.
So here's the deal with myself... for the rest of the weekend I will focus on positive thoughts as much as possible. My girls will have fun camping, we finally picked a name, Monday I'll breeze through the amnio and perhaps on Tuesday I'll have a beautiful baby girl to hold. Right? Right!
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