Blindly Pressing Forward

I've had a few scares the last couple days. Well, only one scare where we discussed the option of calling my OB but were relieved by kicks moments later. And then it set me on edge for a few days after. I feel like I'm "coming down" from that insanity now, like it ever really goes away for very long.

I've started kick counts and I've never done those before. I realize "they" say that kick counts could help the mother determine a change over time and therefore prevent a stillbirth by acknowledging a decrease in movement. But what if the movement decreases for a few hours (like not feeling anything) and then the kicks are nonstop for an hour a bit later? Babies have sleep cycles. I know this. Babies grow most while sleeping and need to sleep. I know this. That sure doesn't help my anxiety any, of course.

And how about it being so unscientific, these kick counts and other methods of attempting to avert disaster? I just hate how there is no control. I've never, ever had control and I'm aware of it. It doesn't mean I like it or am handling it well by any means. His movements are changing. They're still present, but he's filling out his space so well that he doesn't punch as much and has now moved on to rolling motions. My OB even commented about this likely being a big baby... whatever that means. NSTs will start this month along with extra monitoring as I approach what should be considered the home stretch. Again, whatever that means.

We're in the 50's. As in, I'll be holding a child, of mine, in my arms at some point in the next 50+ days. Only time will tell if that child will be healthy and alive. I just can't lose another baby that could be viable and alive and well and healthy outside of my womb. And there's no telling I would or should. Millions upon millions of women give birth every year to babies. Babies who are born healthy without extra monitoring or kick counts or fanaticism. I never hear of stillbirth in my real life pocket. Not with friends, co-workers, parents of students. Maybe they aren't telling. Maybe it's happening out there (well, it is to about 26,000/year). But I sure don't know about it. What I do know is that everyone and their freaking best friend is either pregnant or delivering healthy babies all around me. It's got to be my turn, right? Right?

We talk to this baby nonstop. Part of me is trying anything to just bond so that maybe my words or the amount of I love yous I blurt out will somehow result in a live child. Like I didn't talk to Andrew just as much or rub my belly enough to save his life. No amount of being frantic can control the fate I will be served.

I have fears of PTSD and PPD and all those things as well. But right now, I just need a live baby. My own crazy can be dealt with as it needs to be once this little one is safely alive in my arms.

Godspeed, my child. I promise I will spoil you and pick you up nonstop and do all those things those stupid parenting books tell me not to because of attachment or whatever. Those books have long since been shelved as I fully intend to cradle you and smother you with so much love. You have no idea.