Conflicted. That’s about how I am feeling today as I come to you live from my bed, laying on my left side of course and drowsy from blood pressure meds that began yesterday. Conflicted about so many emotions, thoughts and whether to worry or not.
Yesterday’s ob appointment news has revealed some interesting facts. The simple truth is that She Number 3 is not thriving. It’s believed my blood pressure’s elevated status has caused blood flow issues resulting in her only measuring in the 30th percentile even though a mere 9 weeks ago my 20 week sono displayed a perfectly healthy baby.
I’m still stunned. Shocked in fact. Thankfully Gibbs was with me. Thankfully he was in the right frame of mind to ask questions as I had to continue reprocessing the information over and over in my mind.
The good news is despite not thriving at optimal levels, she indeed is alive—a great simple truth! It’s sort of interesting to think about- my body not supplying her needs. My body which abruptly started playing by the book during the first trimester when problems began to arise. My body which for the most part is in fact given nutrition before taste bud cravings—mind you, no simple task.
Not that I have not enjoyed entire boxes of sinfully delish Queen Anne chocolate covered cherries in one sitting or have interpreted the doctor’s “increase your calcium” order to mean She Number 3 needs ice cream—frequently. Because I have most certainly enjoyed partaking in those not-so-nutritional activities. But I have also eaten handfuls of carrots, grabbed fruit and downed 64 oz of water instead of my one soda a day and grabbing those potato chips or cookies my taste buds screamed for.
Fetal movement has never meant so much to me as it has in the last 24 hours. Feeling her move around, flip about, tap dance on my uterus and more only leaves me further conflicted. How can all of this be- every move feel normal, when in essence she’s being starved? Simply put it’s not something I can wrap my mind around.
The anomaly of my inability to worry, panic or stress has caused me to reflect on how this is affecting me. While laying in the darkness of our bedroom this morning I pressed my body up against Gibbs and contemplated waking him up to ask if he was worried, and if in fact maybe I too should worry. Because for the first time, in a very long time, I find myself wondering what will come to be.
But the simple truth is I do not what is meant to be, and I can only do what is told and asked of me. Despite wanting to cry from boredom and shed a tear or two out of disbelief that this is happening, I can only stay strong and never give up hope. Which is all too ironic considering my current FaceBook status details an overview of the triumphs and trials of 2009 and says to bring on 2010 because I and we are stronger than ever.
- ► 2010 (23)
- Wife to Gibbs... Mother to Ziva, Abby and...