Bottle of Coke: $0.99
Bag of peanut butter M&Ms: $3.59
A sugar high to get HJ moving: Priceless
I have been calm through this pregnancy. A few minor panic attacks, but for the most part…calm. I’ve been cool-headed, practical, knowing from experience that there is very little I can or cannot do to effect the outcome of this pregnancy. I’ve been the girl that pats other women on the heads, reminding them that they can’t “shake” a good pregnancy. & that each day is one day longer & one day closer to a healthy baby.
& then last night, I had the most horrific dream of my life. I dreamt that we went in for a regular check-up…and Harrison did not have a heartbeat. The entire subsequent labor & delivery were so vivid & emotionally excrutiating that I can hardly bring myself to remember the details. Anguish. I woke up at 4am feeling absolute anguish, resting my palm on my belly & praying for Harrison to move, just as a reminder. & right as I turned to wake Nate in utter, unfounded panic, HJ kicked — “Hey, Momma…I’m still here.”
It took me an entire hour to doze off again, but I woke up so unsettled. As we brushed teeth for work, I explained the nightmare to Nate, trying to laugh off the shaky unease I felt. “Other women have nightmares of birthing puppies & horses — why couldn’t I have one of those dreams?!” We laughed, poked the belly, & continued our mornings. I spent the entire morning relishing in every kick & flip, telling myself that the stupid dream had nothing on me & my kid. I deliberately pushed it aside as I met clients, shook hands, & went on a day’s work.
Until 2pm, when Nate called with a touch of panic in his voice, asking if I was okay. Of course I was, I giggled. And Harrison? He is kicking? Of course, I reassured. Why? Nate explained that his coworker told him that last night in church, he was overwhelmed with the need to pray for us & the baby. Normally, this kind of thing makes Nate chuckle, but I suppose this in conjunction with the dream sent him into a downward spiral of panic. & when Nate panics…I panic. He is the steady one, the consistent one that keeps me grounded. & when he is frightened, it sends alarm bells ringing down to my core.
So, logical as ever, I run out to get a Coke. & some candy. & I immediately subject my child to a sugar high for my own guilty pleasure of feeling him kick me. Because today, I cannot get enough reassurance. Today, I feel fragile. Today, when a dear blog friend of mine delivered her son at 26 weeks, I realized that nothing is guaranteed, even at this stage.
This is my son. MY SON. He has a name. & a nursery. & little clothes that I have picked out for specific events in his life. He has a father that loves him so immediately & innately that he’ll call in a panic on a Monday afternoon, just to be sure his son is okay. & at this point, there is nothing we will not do to keep him safe, healthy, & protected…& at the same time, there is very little we can do to keep him safe, healthy, & protected.
and I realize that less than 48 hours away from Harpie’s due date, I cannot bear the thought of losing another.
