Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Day 27--My Worst Habit, And Where We're At . . .

Obsessing. I can obsess over anything. It's been amplified over the past 10 months, especially now being subsequently pregnant and being overly tuned in to every little burble and gurgle and wiggle and ache in my giant body.

If you don't believe that I've always been this way, ask C about the film container I thought I'd lost on our trip from SanFrancisco to Seattle. Shudder. Two days of that trip ruined, but my peanut brain couldn't focus on anything else. This was in the stone ages before we had a digital camera. That's all we need to know about that.

But usually I obsess over something I want, or can't figure out. Like, for instance, I see a cute pair of shoes I'd love to add to my collection. I'll spend HOURS online searching for the best price, cheapest shipping, my size, the right color, planning if they're worth the expense. I can't sleep for thinking of these shoes.

Now replace the shoes with the current resident in my uterus. In light of the fact that the last resident did not make it out alive. Welcome to my fun brain.

So where we're at is here: tomorrow will be the bookmark in my pregnancy where Calla died. Maybe it was tonight. I've always thought of it as 35 weeks and 3 days; imagine my surprise at my dr appt today when she said I was AT 35 weeks and 3 days today. So maybe it's four days. Whatever. My point is, I RATIONALLY know this is a different pregnancy, a different baby, a different set of circumstances. But EMOTIONALLY I'm right back there.

Here I am, some 10 months almost later, hyper-aware of this little one's every move. Was I not paying attention back then? Was there something I missed, a gradual slowdown? Now THIS is some real obsessing.

I had an NST today, and while they're usually reassuring, this one got me a little on the ropes. It was overall good, and steady, and he was moving a lot--which lead to the nervousness. Every few minutes, we'd lose his heartbeat. He was moving so much, moving away from the monitor. I'd glance over and see 59 BPM, 72 BPM. Clearly, MY heart rate. And try not to freak out. The doctor (the same one who delivered Calla, BTW) came in and stayed with me, kept moving the little pad around to stay with him. And she was satisfied. So I guess I was, too.

If only it wasn't, you know, RIGHT NOW. And if I am induced the day we hope, that same doctor will deliver this little guy. It doesn't make me nervous--she's awesome and level and very smart and compassionate--but she was worried that I'd be upset, not want her there. I guess that doesn't so much matter to me. It's not like it was her fault. I'd actually feel better giving her a do-over, I guess.

Fuck. Everything is so goddamn hard.

Maybe that's why another of the doctors, the one I had an appointment with today, gave me a hug and a kiss before she left the room.

Good thing I'm seeing the therapist tomorrow. Day 27--a day to indulge in bad habits.

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