A blog about babies: the babies I lost, the babies I never had, the baby who made me a Mama.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Waiting for Tomorrow; or, 13 Ways of Looking at a Fetus

The 24-hours before an ultrasound are always the worst. I start analyzing symptoms in a way that I refuse to let myself do ordinarily. Something new and unexpected always crops up to panic me: a backache that feels a little different than before, boobs that seem slightly smaller (I'm always so fixated on the boobs), a little more energy in the afternoon.

I have trouble sleeping the night before, and the night before that, too. When I wake at 4 or 5 am to pee, I can't fall back asleep again until after it's light. I imagine things I'd probably be better off leaving alone. Or I don't imagine anything at all, but just lie there, queasy and hungry and filled with anxious dread.

I don't understand how this pregnancy could work out when the last one didn't. Logically I can understand: random chance, quirks of genetic combination, blah, blah, blah. But emotionally, I can't comprehend it. Why should this time be any different? How can it be different?

I still feel upset when I read weekly updates on "How Your Baby Is Developing," because they just reinforce for me that I don't know if any of those proclamations--about eyelids and lungs and arm buds--are true. I don't feel closer to this baby when I read them, I feel farther and more distant. More aware that despite carrying it inside me, despite thinking about it every moment of every day, despite eating for it and peeing for it and breathing for it, there's not a single thing I can do to keep it alive or to make it healthy.

I don't like to think of another heart beating away inside me, because then I'm forced to acknowledge that this heart could stop. I don't like to think about a baby growing piece by piece and cell by cell, because it feels too active, too involved, too much of a process, when everything about this right now is passive.

I like to think of the baby as a little candle burning inside me, a tiny flicker of hope that I'm trying to shelter and keep lit. It might blow out--candles do that sometimes--so all I can do is give it space to burn and nurture that hope, whatever may come.

I hope tomorrow is a happy day.

19 comments:

  1. It WILL be. I hope you post some pictures of little Smudgie. :) That's the cutest name ever, by the way.

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  2. I hope so too, Slopie. And I love the candle image--just beautiful. xoxo

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  3. Symptoms don't mean jack, but you already know that. The early scans are so stressful, and I don't know that anything can really take that away. I hope tomorrow comes quickly and with good news for you, friend.

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  4. I echo what "C" said. Symptoms, present or lacking, don't mean sh*t, especially at this stage. My boobs didn't get big until 24 weeks or so. I didn't throw up even one time with Peanut. Really, it's so random, the symptoms. Just accept which ones you do or don't have at any given moment.

    Feel free to keep writing about those doubts and worries. As you know, I did it through my entire Peanut-pregnancy, and still was in disbelief that she was born, and seemingly okay. That"s what The Ghosts of Miscarriages Past does to us :o(

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  5. And it will be a wonderful day! And I can't wait to hear how much Smudgie has grown and changed.

    I wish you'd just write my blog posts for me since everything you write is exactly what I'm thinking. :) xo

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  6. I like your candle idea.
    Thinking many hopeful thoughts for tomorrow.

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  7. Oh, I really do think it WILL be a happy day.

    I can't wait to hear about it.

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  8. This is an AWESOME post. I agree, I agree, I agree. (And never ever could have described these feelings so beautifully and perfectly!) It is so odd how passive so much of pregnancy is! All we can do and is hope and pray that our little candles will stay lit and burn brightly and come out okay on the other side.

    I 110% believe your little candle is flickering away with a beautiful, strong glow. I know the 24 hours pre-u/s are bruuuuuutal. You are doing just awesome and I know you will get through this. Smudgie is perfect! Stay strong dear Slopie. xo

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  9. For the lack of control we feel in dealing with infertility, we are somehow surprised at the lack of control we feel when we finally achieve our goal as well. I hear you. I didn't expect that aspect to be so tough, for sure.

    We finally achieved and yet there still isn't a damn thing we can do to guarantee happy results. I wish I could ease your uneasiness, but I know how futile that is.

    Smudgie is a fighter. YOU are a fighter. I believe the best is yet to be. (((Hugs)))

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  10. I feel the same.exact.way you do. I'll be thinking of you tomorrow!

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  11. What a great analogy!

    I well remember the early dawn hours of dread leading up to an u/s. And I *still* can't believe that my body managed to produce, not just a baby, but a *perfect* baby. So surreal!

    Tomorrow will be a good day-- may the hours pass quickly until you know that it is.

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  12. I am hoping that tomorrow is a happy day, too.

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  13. So well put. Somehow when you've been so hurt in the past, it's easier to put a little distance between yourself and your baby. And, yes, the day before an ultrasound is brutal. But I know tomorrow will be a good day and you will once again be riding the wave of confidence.

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  14. Oh, man, I thought your appt. was today :( Those damn appts. are so stressful. I'll be thinking of you tomorrow and praying everything goes well!

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  15. Best of luck tomorrow, smudgie is going to look great. But I hear you on it just being a candle of hope, that's very much how I felt in the early days too.

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  16. I know what you mean sweet friend. Praying ao hard today is a happy hope filled day ((hugs))

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  17. I've had two m/cs and just found out two days ago that we are, quite unexpectedly, expecting again. I'm not reading any of those updates this time around...in part because I know what is happening from the other two pgs and also because I just can't think of this pregnancy as a baby yet. I honestly don't know if I will think of it as a baby until s/he is safe in my arms. Love the candle imagery, btw. I think I'll use that myself!
    Can't wait to hear your good news!!!

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  18. Sloper, I am crossing EVERYTHING that today is a happy day.

    (And, yes, about the leadups to ultrasounds. I feel the same way).

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  19. Hey... thinking about you today. ((Hugs!))

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