Well, the good news (I think) is Baby Girl isn’t here yet. She managed to hang out and get herself to full term–a huge answer to prayers. The slow switch in thinking came this weekend. Now that she’s full-term, it’s just a matter of waiting, right? Well…maybe. I know full-term is cause for celebration, but I can’t stop myself from worrying. Worrying is one of the things I do best in life, so it really shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knows me.
Two major things are contributing to the panic, though.
1.) Our little one is still VERY little. Pixie Girl hasn’t gotten past the 5 lb mark yet though she’s supposed to be closing in on 7. More than her weight, however, is the concern that I am not growing. My stomach measurement has remained the same for weeks. I go in for our 3rd round of fetal monitoring today, and that sends a pretty clear message. If the doctors insist on monitoring your baby in the womb (even when insurance denies it for payment), it feels like they are playing Russian Roulette. “We’ll leave her in there unless something changes with the monitoring.”
Um, what? Why not just get her here now? That way I can look in her eyes and count her toes and KNOW that she’s going to be okay. Why not let me hold her and feed her and fatten her up on this side?
2.) I have no real information. For some people, being kept unaware of negative possibilities is a good thing. It really isn’t for me. It’s rare that doctors are able to scare me with possibilities because what my mind can come up with tends to be MUCH scarier than their world of percentages and chances. But no one will really say.
When I ask what it means that she’s so small and what the risks are, I’m told that she’s probably just small since her heartbeat is strong. Well, if that’s the case, what’s with all the fuss? Why all the monitoring? What are you looking for?
Anyway…that’s where things are.
I’ve also been having fairly consistently contractions that wake me up through the night but they don’t get closer together than 10 minutes. The one time they got to 4 minutes apart, I was told that it was false labor and not to come back until the contractions were so bad that I couldn’t speak through them or my water broke…
Which is really confusing since the contractions I feel now are much more painful than the time I was declared to be in labor.
So all this really means is whenever Baby Girl does arrive, I am already going to be exhausted. That is, if they don’t end up waiting too long.
And now, I’ve officially arrived at begging. I just want her to get here. I want the stress to be over. I want the contractions to be over. I want the debilitating hip pain to be over. I want the heartache to be over, and I just want her to be here, safe and loved and in my arms.