I’ve been feeling pretty flat of late. I go to work, go home, eat, shower, go to bed, rinse and repeat. Life has been…boring, I guess. (Although ‘boring’ beats the ‘excitement’ of the last 3 years). Work is ‘there’ just ‘there’. I’m not feeling engaged like I used, I’m tired of being the last one to find out things in my department. My boss really treats me like a marginal member of our team, but still expects a lot out of me…telll me – how does that work? I am tired of being the receptionist and juggling all my other responsibilities. So yeah, it’s just ‘there’.
I have been going to the O/B’s office 2x a week every week. I have a bio-physical profile and a non-stress test performed on either day. Ziggy is doing well and apparently she is a tad overweight at an estimated 4lbs, 3oz. I asked if they think it’s the gestational diabetes that had contributed to this. “Probably…not that it matters” (due to the c-section). “I see your baby is still in breech position…not that that matters”. To which I reply that the baby has apparently received the TAC memo – why bother turning? We laugh. My hips on the other end have not gotten the memo – they continue to loosen and the pain is getting to be excruciating.
I’ve got round ligament pain, sciatic nerve pain, slight anemia, gestational diabetes, ZERO (ZeRo!)energy, occasional heart burn, occasional (excruciatingly painful) leg cramps, I lie down and I feel like I can’t breathe, I get up and then I feel like I can’t walk. It’s all good. It’s all good. It’s all good. It means I’m still pregnant, it means she’s still maturing and getting stronger. She’s not struggling to breathe or fighting in a NICU for her life. She received the gift of time from the TAC. If I’m in discomfort then she’s not and every moment I can keep her incubated in my womb is one less moment that she has to struggle. I wish I could have done that much for Emi and Daniella. I swear it.
Back to feeling deflated…I’m in a gawddamn holding pattern. It’s just been one long moment of me in suspended breath. I can’t quite breathe in and I can’t breath out. Beefcake signed us up for a parenting class last week and assured me that I didn’t have to go if I was not ready. He had this puppy dog look in his eyes, and I felt terrible thinking that’d he be the only person without a partner…no pregnant companion to prove that he belongs. So I went. I was rigid and tense for the first half hour (out of 3 ½) and then I relaxed. The instructor offered to give us a tour of the nursery and I thought I heard NICU and I almost died. But then I got it together in this clouded head of mine. There was a little baby boy in the nursery that had just been born being looked over and bathed. We all watched in awe. He was little – 5lbs, 5oz and still had some lanugo on his back. The instructor told us that he was likely born a few weeks early. My husband wondered where his dad was; it hurts him to think that no family member was there watching the first few moments of his transition into the world. We theorized that mom probably had a tough labor and dad was with her or maybe dad was out of town rushing over or maybe, just maybe, there was no dad in the picture. But we were there along with the others in our group and so that little bean was not alone…Beefcake suggested that someone did that for Daniella and then I got a little emotional…her stay was short in this world but she still deserved to be bathed and held. All babies do…now I’m crying, so I think I’ll stop.