Last night had the most graphic and disturbing dream about losing the baby. In the dream I recognized the signs that I was losing the baby but I REFUSED to believe that it was happening thinking there was no way I was losing another baby. I just kept listening to those near by continuously reassure me that everything was fine. Eventually, despite my denial and the reassurance of those around me, in the dream she died. The dream was so disturbing that I woke up, sitting straight up in bed panting.
But I woke up and it was only a dream, thankfully. This morning I woke up relieved to be done with the nightmare and ready to munch on the breakfast my husband brings to me every morning. After I finished eating, I snuggled up to my husband and watched the morning news expecting to feel the movement of the baby that I ALWAYS felt within five minutes of eating. It didn't come as expected and I started to panic. In the wake of my devastating dream, I became desperate to feel some movement from our unborn daughter. I tried all the tricks to no avail and by the time I was ready to leave for work, I was a blubbering mess, thinking of all the worst reasons why she wouldn't be moving. I worried that I didn't sleep on my left side like "they" said I should or that I instinctively did not awake when the baby was in trouble.
Luckily, after apparently sleeping in this morning, Lorelei said hello with a kick along with some other movements on my way to work. This did not TOTALLY ease my anxiety, I begged her to kick the hell out of me all day so I would be constantly reassured throughout the day that she was just fine. Of course she moved when she was good and ready and slowly throughout the day, my fears were put at ease.
I got to thinking about the kick counts I am supposed to be doing at this point in the pregnancy. This is the time when the baby's growth is maximized and the space in the belly becomes diminished so movement at times can be limited due to their being no elbow room. As if this morning did not unnerve me enough, they want me to count kicks when the schedule of movement I have become accustomed to is slowly becoming extinct? Talk about asking for a nervous breakdown! I don't ever remember being so focused on kicks when I was pregnant with Trey, let alone kick counts. Oh, I paid attention to his kicks, being pregnant for the first time they were more fascinating than anything, yet I did not connect them as vital signs, just as wonders of pregnancy. This time around, I am like Pavlov's dog, anticipating the next round of movement based on the schedule of movement that I have become accustomed to, all that's missing is the bell and the slobber.
It seems like every time I feel like I can relax and enjoy this pregnancy, something knocks me upside the head and I am back to worrying. Yet isn't that a side effect of parenthood? You get to a point where you can put your feet up and relax when something beckons and you're back in the game rolling with the punches. My husband and I should be plenty use to the ebb and flow of parenting, yet our version of parenthood is rather unconventional. It feels like we are starting over this time around which is an unnatural, almost alien, feeling.
For now I am glad I woke from that nightmare, made it through the day, and acted as the soccer goal for my daughters movements. I didn't use to be this hypersensitive, not entirely anyway, and I hate feeling this way. I would love to live footloose and fancy free the way we did with Trey's pregnancy, but once you've been through the storm of child loss, you're more eager and desperate to batten down the hatches and hide in the basement even when the sun is still shining.
As I sit here, listening to the Spring storms brewing outside, I can only hope for respite from the storms rumbling from within my heart and soul. Then, my rainbow will come, in the form of a healthy baby girl!
But I woke up and it was only a dream, thankfully. This morning I woke up relieved to be done with the nightmare and ready to munch on the breakfast my husband brings to me every morning. After I finished eating, I snuggled up to my husband and watched the morning news expecting to feel the movement of the baby that I ALWAYS felt within five minutes of eating. It didn't come as expected and I started to panic. In the wake of my devastating dream, I became desperate to feel some movement from our unborn daughter. I tried all the tricks to no avail and by the time I was ready to leave for work, I was a blubbering mess, thinking of all the worst reasons why she wouldn't be moving. I worried that I didn't sleep on my left side like "they" said I should or that I instinctively did not awake when the baby was in trouble.
Luckily, after apparently sleeping in this morning, Lorelei said hello with a kick along with some other movements on my way to work. This did not TOTALLY ease my anxiety, I begged her to kick the hell out of me all day so I would be constantly reassured throughout the day that she was just fine. Of course she moved when she was good and ready and slowly throughout the day, my fears were put at ease.
I got to thinking about the kick counts I am supposed to be doing at this point in the pregnancy. This is the time when the baby's growth is maximized and the space in the belly becomes diminished so movement at times can be limited due to their being no elbow room. As if this morning did not unnerve me enough, they want me to count kicks when the schedule of movement I have become accustomed to is slowly becoming extinct? Talk about asking for a nervous breakdown! I don't ever remember being so focused on kicks when I was pregnant with Trey, let alone kick counts. Oh, I paid attention to his kicks, being pregnant for the first time they were more fascinating than anything, yet I did not connect them as vital signs, just as wonders of pregnancy. This time around, I am like Pavlov's dog, anticipating the next round of movement based on the schedule of movement that I have become accustomed to, all that's missing is the bell and the slobber.
It seems like every time I feel like I can relax and enjoy this pregnancy, something knocks me upside the head and I am back to worrying. Yet isn't that a side effect of parenthood? You get to a point where you can put your feet up and relax when something beckons and you're back in the game rolling with the punches. My husband and I should be plenty use to the ebb and flow of parenting, yet our version of parenthood is rather unconventional. It feels like we are starting over this time around which is an unnatural, almost alien, feeling.
For now I am glad I woke from that nightmare, made it through the day, and acted as the soccer goal for my daughters movements. I didn't use to be this hypersensitive, not entirely anyway, and I hate feeling this way. I would love to live footloose and fancy free the way we did with Trey's pregnancy, but once you've been through the storm of child loss, you're more eager and desperate to batten down the hatches and hide in the basement even when the sun is still shining.
As I sit here, listening to the Spring storms brewing outside, I can only hope for respite from the storms rumbling from within my heart and soul. Then, my rainbow will come, in the form of a healthy baby girl!
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