Sunday, February 03, 2008

Terror and Relief

Last night my head cold reached epic proportions, and I realized I had to break out the asthma medication and the prescription to drain my nose, or I would never sleep again.

My heart was pounding, and my head hurt, and I was really exhausted because Friday night I had such a realistic full colour nightmare that I barely slept afterwards and got up Saturday morning pretty wiped. I spent the rest of the day in a fog and finally went to Costco and spent my little heart out.

Very difficult to do when the Costco you go to is filled with stupid people. I usually go to a Costco on the other side of town during the week, mostly adults or moms and babies young enough to stay in the baby seat of the cart. But this one is closer so I thought what the hell give it chance, right? Bah....

Instead I end up with idiots who bring their overtired underfed toddlers to the store and let them run around. Kids who are crying and screaming and won't stay in the cart. Not a smart safety move in a warehouse store with 200 pound boxes on high shelves just waiting to drop on the kid's head. (One time, I actually saw a kid get run over with a giant dolly covered in boxes and the kid got stuck underneath. A bunch of us ran like hell and started chucking the stuff off the cart, and pulled the kid to safety, just in time for the mother to run up and take the kid from grandpa. He was *watching* the kid for her----I'm sure in his mind, he'd been doing a great job. Mom looked like she was going to kill him.)

My kids are old enough to help me shop, and when Mac is too tired and can't pay attention, I leave, with no stuff bought, just leave. WTF is wrong with these people? Leave elderly grandma with her cane and the toddler and one of the six other family members at home. They really aren't having fun people. Dragging through Costco isn't a joy-filled trip when you can barely walk. Seriously.

So after all that exasperation, I was pretty tired and went to bed feeling sick. I got up this morning feeling not much better, and realized that I couldn't feel the baby move. I drank some juice, and got some breakfast, all the while terrified. Kids are running around, husband madly acting nuts, since he is hosting some guys for a Superbowl party and has bought enough food for an army. I kept thinking it would be fine, just fine, stop worrying so I didn't tell him.

After 2 hours of not feeling much of anything, and drinking a gallon of juice, I was beyond panic and terror and had moved to resignation that of course everything had gone wrong and the baby had died, and I was picturing in my head what I would say to the nurse at triage, the birth, the funeral....had the whole thing planned out in my head. I had catatrophized myself into a corner.

Then he kicked me.

Then again.

Then a few minutes later a punch.

Crying with relief, I got a shower and got dressed. I'm tidying up for the party now, and Dinkypie is partying away in my uterus.

My name is Aurelia, and I'm paranoid. I'm 21 weeks, 6 days, and this was the gestational point that Matthew died so let's just call this hump week. I need to find a little faith cause I don't know how the hell I'm going to make it through 'til June. And there are no 12 step meetings for deadbabymamas like me.

Any words of wisdom?


  1. Hon, we ARE your 12 step program. Lay it here, we'll listen and get you through. (And excuse me wee one, but move more, mmkay?) (try m&ms next time).

    The Mr. informed me when *I woke up this a.m.* that while he was out last night? He invited 15 people over today to watch the game. I'm procrastinating cleaning right now. Bring it on, I say.

  2. i think tash has it right. just lay it here and we'll do what we can. but mostly, terrifyingly, you just got to keep on breathing and going forward with that split heart and brain, preparing funeral speeches to occupy your despairing certainty while the hopeful part of you waits in the wings for some sign that she's not actually a fool and can breathe now and come back out to play.

    it's hard, this.

  3. oh hon I just lost my breath.
    It is hard to have hope when you know, let alone if you have experienced loss.
    I will hope for you. I am a bitter, cynical bitch and if I can have hope, anyone can.

    Thank god my husband decided to go out.

  4. No wisdom. I just wish that I could speed time up for you. You will make it through 'til June, and we'll be here for you every step.

    Hugs to you.

  5. No words of wisdom. I think you just have to do your best to try and keep the fears in proper perspective. Unfortunately, around this time, that's still going to make them pretty big.


  6. Yikes. I got panicky just reading this, and it didn't take me two hours so I had far less data (or lack thereof), not to mention at stake, than you.

    Thank goodness for the partying Dinkypie.

    No words, but not having been through any of what you have, I was nonetheless perfectly capable of panicking if nothing happened for several hours. I addressed this by buying a home doppler, though I realize (a) you must know this is possible but have apparently chosen not to do so (and perhaps already told us so; if so, I forgot) and (b) there are arguments against using such things. Beyond that I know of no solution so will only hope that Dinkypie stays gleefully active (and healthy, obviously) throughout your pregnancy.

  7. You can use my motto from last year...Just show up. Of course, I modified it to...just show up breathing. That's all you can do, I'm afraid. {{{hugs}}}

  8. We are here for you darling....
    Like Tash said, "We are your 12-step program". We will always be here and listen and give so much support. Always.

    Come on baby...lost more kicks and punches!

    I think that all any of us can do is take it one day at a time. Enjoy each day with the little life within you and love them, love them, love them!

  9. You are so close now, honey...
    I spent almost the entirety of two of my friends' pregnancies in High Anxiety until that magical window of viability had passed; I know I'm only blowin' smoke secondhand but just continue to "show up": breathe, move, take the meds you need & take GREAT care of yourself!

  10. No words of wisdom. At twelve weeks, my sister in law had the placenta tear away from the uterine wall, 40% tore away. The doctor told her there was nothing they could do, go home, go back to work, you're going to lose the baby. My nephew turns five this June, he hung on. It happens.

  11. No words of wisdom here. Just wanted to share in your relief that the Dinkypie is partying away.

  12. The only wisdom I have is watch that head cold. I landed in Mt. Sinai today with the worst ear infection seen by the ENT in several years. Now I'm rocking out with percocet and amoxicillin. Try to keep your congestion to a minimum.