Anxiety is no stranger to my life. My grandmother was the world’s greatest worrier, my mother a close second and my sister and I are absolutely keeping the tradition alive. There are very few things I haven’t had a chance to worry about in my life and pregnancy has been a treasure trove for worries. All in all I think I have handled it pretty well, but this week has been a bad one.
On Sunday night we had to visit labor and delivery because the baby didn’t move for more than 90 minutes. My husband and I were both visibly terrified after all of our attempts to get him to move failed. It was awful. The wait between when we signed in and finally got hooked up to monitors felt like an eternity. Thankfully, his heart rate was absolutely beautifully perfect the entire 2 hours we were there and the ultrasound showed that he wasn’t in distress but most likely was sleeping. With his thumb in his mouth. He’s adorable, just terrifying.
And since then I just haven’t been able to shake the worries.
Today I found myself Googling signs of infant distress after the baby had a few minutes worth of hiccups, which by the way, are completely normal for him and have been for weeks on end now. I have constantly been poking him because he seems a little sluggish today, which is fine since he moved like a maniac yesterday. I’m definitely getting the 6-10 movements in an hour no problem. I’m just still scared. I want some proof that everything is fine.
I am one of those people who is opposed to early c-sections and inductions, but if offered, I would have this baby today, unquestionably. It doesn’t matter that we’re not ready or that he’s not technically full term until Saturday. I know that’s the absolute wrong thing to do for all involved and I would never actually go and ask my doctor, but having him out, being able to watch him, see him, know he’s okay would be such a tremendous relief.
I feel so entirely out of control right now that I cannot think of anything else except the fear of something happening to my son.
Every time he kicks I smile a little because it’s a reminder that he’s there, he’s hopefully okay. But for every kick there is a period of several minutes where I’m just waiting, and the waiting is killing me.
My only concern is and always has been having a healthy baby. And I guess I imagined that once I got past the phase where I had to worry about having a premature baby that the anxiety would settle down some. But if anything, it’s greater now than it ever has been.
I know I only have a few weeks left, but somehow I suspect these weeks will feel longer than all the rest combined.