I’m sure every pregnancy brings a mother feelings of anxiousness and anticipation. After a loss, being anxious during a pregnancy is a full time job. While I rationally know there was nothing I could have done to prevent my loss, I catch myself doing little things with this pregnancy in hopes that we have a different outcome.
The first six weeks made me a basket case. I wanted to cry every time I felt ill or a noticed a weird twinge in my abdomen. I prayed for things to go smoothly. Yet, at the same time, a lack of symptoms freaked me out because it could have meant my hormones were dropping and something had happened to baby. I remember holding my breath at that 6 week ultrasound. As the tech zoomed in, she pointed out the sac. It looked empty. COMPLETE PANIC. Then, within a few terrifying seconds, there it was…my precious rainbow baby showing off it’s newly formed and beating heart. I lost my shit on that exam table. I was so torn between feeling nostalgic for my first pregnancy/baby and feeling so incredibly hopeful and thankful for this second pregnancy/baby.
Then I spent weeks rubbing my belly and telling this baby that we are strong and healthy and we will make it through this together. My voice sounded shaky and I realized these words were being said more for my benefit than for baby’s. I’ve panicked dozens of times between the 1st and 2nd and 3rd scans. I’m THAT girl that panics and calls the nurse line when she wakes up feeling energetic with boobs that are no longer sore. The girl that buys a fetal doppler on Amazon to use at home and make sure that tiny heart is still ticking!
Being a part of the loss mom sisterhood is incredibly special. Finding support in strangers who share one very heartbreaking experience. The only downside I’ve found, is that you become hyper aware. As we share stories of our beloved babies, I’ve realized that not every pregnancy ends with a healthy “take home” baby. We’ve lost them at every stage – from days after conception, up to 40 weeks. We’ve lost them for all sorts of reasons, and sometimes no reason at all. As I reach each milestone, I remember women who lost their babies at that stage, or even beyond.
Needless to say, I feel butterflies on a regular basis. I worry when I wake up from sleeping and realize that I’ve been laying on my back. I worry that I’ve over exerted myself on some days, and that I’ve been too lazy on other days. I’m not sure if those feelings ever lessen or disappear, but I imagine not.
But sometimes, those butterflies aren’t my nerves at all. Lately, I’ve realized that sometimes those butterflies are the gentle kick of a sweet babe who is growing healthy and strong. Reminding me that things do go well and that this may be my healthy take home baby. Please keep fluttering, my darling! ❤