It’s exceptionally cold today. I don’t know why I decided walking to the library to use the Internet was a good idea, but here I am. My husband just left for a week for his second graduate school audition and I am already drowning in loneliness. I was already feeling pretty poorly emotionally, so not having him here is extremely hard.
I am trying to relax, have faith, pray, and be calm. I know the prayers are the only things holding me together right now, and I’m thankful knowing that so many people out there are praying for us. It is definitely getting harder the closer we get.
In three weeks, we should be having the baby. We don’t know the date yet, but it will be around 36 weeks. The last week of February is the latest I would want to go; I definitely don’t want to start Lent still not knowing how this is going to turn out. They’ll set a date next week at my next appointment with the specialists, and I am legitimately scared. Baby is head-down and in “perfect birthing position” as the ultrasound tech put it. The specialist in charge of my case was visibly annoyed that baby has insisted on being head-down. She knows that as long as baby is in good position for a natural birth, I won’t submit to a C-section unless the baby is in distress during delivery. Now that I’m envisioning an induction, labour, and all that comes after, I am starting to feel a lot more anxiety than usual. I would feel worse if things were different and we were scheduling a C-section, though, so I think the whole process, any way it goes, is extremely taxing on me.
Knowing that the baby is going to be born soon is horrifyingly sad to me. I wonder if anyone else feels sad about her baby being born. It seems out of the ordinary, but nothing about this has been ordinary after all. As soon as the baby is born, I won’t be able to be close to it again unless it is clearly dying (when they said they will give the baby back to me) or is surviving well for a day or more and I have been discharged from the hospital (since we won’t be able to stay at the same hospital together unless it is obvious from the beginning that it will die). This makes the process so much sadder. I wish I could know the baby would stay with me.
My mum wanted to get a blanket for the baby, so my husband, my mum, and I went shopping together the other day to pick one out. So few things are unisex, we ran into the typical problems. However, we did find a really nice plain white blanket, and then my mum picked out a second blanket that was soft and cozy with a little duck on it. We decided we would take the white blanket to wrap the baby up at the hospital as soon as we are able to. So if the baby dies, it will die in that blanket. Ironically, though, the other blanket (with the duck on it) is the one that has recently started making me cry every time I think about it. Maybe it’s because I know that the baby will only use it if the baby survives and we can take it home alive.
So then I think, maybe if I just keep imagining my baby in that blanket, eventually the effect will wear off and I’ll stop crying.
So far, no luck.
I have to admit, I hate that stupid blanket now, just like I hate all of the adorable little baby clothes we’ve collected that I can’t even bring myself to imagine the baby ever wearing.
I don’t feel like it’s a “lack of faith” to accept the high likelihood that baby will not make it. I can’t lie to myself and pretend like the odds aren’t against us. I just wish I could get over this deep, dark sadness that is enveloping me this week.
Maybe if it would just warm up, I would feel a little better.