Are we there yet?

I will get to week 32 update soon, I promise. But for now, I'm gonna talk about my day yesterday.

I thought about just keeping it to myself and not sharing on the blog but then I remembered reading other baby loss blogs and all of their raw and blemished truth. I remember how even though it was sad, it was true. I have to be honest with my readers just in case they are feeling the same way, I can't let them be alone.

I guess I have made it pretty clear that this pregnancy hasn't been an easy venture. Sure, it is something we wanted, something we planned, and something special beyond belief. But that's not to say that it hasn't had its moments of hurt, pain, and tears... lots of tears.

This is something hard for me to admit and something that I don't like talking about. I have suffered with an anxiety disorder pretty much as long as I can remember, however, sometime around the point where I met Adam I figured out how to manage it on my own without medication. I hate my anxiety but it loooooves me.

I thought I would be able to organize my anxious thoughts and my normal pregnancy hormones into their designated spots in my brain but somewhere between "holy shit, I buried my first baby" and having to repeat that out loud and appear totally "strong" while doing it, my brain has turned into a hoarder's dream. Organization is the last thing going on in there. I know everything that could go wrong, I think about it, I dwell on it, I convince myself that it definitely will happen to me all while my heart prays that it will not.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling short of breath and dizzy upon standing. Then my anxiety took over. My heart was beating a mile a minute and instantly "something was wrong, it had to be". I had no control over it and as a control freak in total denial, the lack of control gave me even more anxiety.

I was going in for a non stress test anyhow so I thought I would just let them know that I wasn't feeling well while I was there. The non stress test went well, my blood pressure was good, nothing was off but they didn't want to risk it so they sent me to triage. They ran a few tests and everything came back normal. The doctor told me she wished she could find a medical student to show them how well Isaac looked on the monitor. They told me his stats were that of a term baby and that my EKG was perfect. All this great news was being thrown at me and yet I sat there in the most uncomfortable bed I had ever been in crying hysterically. I thought about the lack of crying that I did when I had heart the news that Brody wasn't living anymore. Why was I so backwards?

I felt embarrassed, I felt like a hypochondriac, I felt like they were all judging me while they repeatedly told me they thought that "seeing someone to talk to" was a good idea. I sat and shook my head up and down and screamed "NO" inside of my head. I can just imagine the kind of nut job they must of thought I was.

The ER doctor brought up inducing me early. I told her it was not what I wanted and that my doctors seem to think that I should just let it happen naturally but she seemed to think differently. She told me she was going to put it in my notes to discuss it with my doctor on Tuesday. She said that it might not be a bad idea because of everything I had been through and all of the anxiety I was experiencing. I still don't know where I stand on it. Part of me wants everything to be as normal as possible but another part of me doesn't care how  or when he gets here, as long as he gets here breathing.

I wish I could put it into words that would help everyone understand the difference between this pregnancy and pregnancies that "other" people have. I know everyone gets anxious and excited to have their baby just be here, I know some women hate being pregnant and can't wait to get it over with. I understand all of that. I don't hate being pregnant. I do hate that my first pregnancy ended with a baby in the ground instead of in my arms. I've tried to make this pregnancy an experience that was as normal and joyous as possible and I think I have succeeded in doing so considering all of the ups and down we have endured so far.

So while I am enjoying Isaac's new martial arts practice and the way he seems to like things his way, I can't wait for the day that I feel the need to protect him outside of my seemingly deadly womb and my lips bleeding from chewing them raw.

I've gotten to this point that I am at right now. Which is 33 weeks and 2 days so why does less than 7 weeks feel like a million years away?