37 weeks today. "Officially" full term.
I admit, I have been wandering the last few weeks as a blissfully pregnant woman. Ignorant pregnant woman. Buying up all the stuff we need, receiving more gifts than I would have imagined without a typical shower. Allowing a "small" shower event during our last trip to the lake (which ended up not so small). M and I have navigated these last few weeks in awe. Wondering how we made it this far. Thinking we might actually have the golden ticket this time.
My doctor told me a week or so ago, that without the "weird placenta" she would call this a pretty normal pregnancy. The boy is growing well, not too big, not too small (60th percentile last scan), so the cord and the placenta have been doing their job. The gestational diabetes has been completely diet controlled. The blood pressure has been great (taken after I sit for the NST reading my book listening to his heartbeat helps). The previa went away quite some time ago. He moved from Frank Breech to Head down about 31ish weeks. Weight gain for me has been great, thanks to the GD (13 pounds total now, but I was overweight to start with, don't be too impressed). For all the monitoring and worry, this baby has been trooping right along.
So, we wait now. And now, as it becomes less of a dream and more of a reality, I am struggling to keep the bad thought demons at bay. I took my leave of this blogland to make it through and while I have been watching and reading, I haven't had it in me to remember the pain and to reach out and support others. Denial is a river I have been floating on to survive. Yet after my last appointment, where my doctor checked me for progress and immediately looked concerned that he was no longer head down (he is but off to the side a bit, no where near engaged in the pelvis), the demons are starting to win.
They are mocking me, making me regret these weeks of blissful ignorant pregnancy. Making me wonder what in the world I would do with all the stuff if he doesn't make it. Asking me to answer whether I could make it through if he doesn't make it, or whether the life I know would cease to exist. What doesn't kill makes you stronger, right? I wonder, what if he doesn't have room to move into my pelvis? His head is down and to the left, exactly where his brother was when he curled up and got stuck and died.
Yet, I know these are just demons and I can choose to pay attention to them and suffer these last few weeks or I can try not to give them power. Either way there is not much I can do about it, right? The boy isn't ready to be born yet. He is moving a lot and humors me every time I poke at him in my frantic search for life. He is being monitored once a week with an ultrasound and an NST.
We just have to wait. Like a book with alternative endings. The one for primetime (TADA! Baby!) and the others (the others). The other endings we won't give strength or power to. Come on little man, come on body, come on uterus, come on placenta, come on cord. Let's make this a ready for primetime story.