“Everyone gets to experience some kind of challenge or heartache during their life.” Words from my husband. Words that were suppose to reassure me. Because the words I had heard from my doctor, just a few minutes prior, didn’t leave me feeling reassured.
I don’t know why, I just assumed that my second pregnancy would be just as normal as the first. Em was textbook, just a little early. I’ve heard of women having complications, but I never thought I would be one of them.
After my exam, my doctor came back in and said, “things have stabilized for now.” Everything we did last week actually worked. The bed rest, medication, and tears paid off. With the exception of contractions, the baby and I are finally stable.
Our goal of a 30-week gestation is just around the corner. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. At 30 weeks, a baby has the best survival rate. Just hearing “survival” for the first time was also a blow. I had never thought our baby wouldn’t survive.
All of this is making me depressed. I have a history of anxiety and it’s been getting the best of me. Some of the medications I’m taking make my lungs work harder to supply oxygen to me and the baby. This causes my heart rate to increase. For me, that’s never a good thing. I’m also really uncomfortable and it’s hard to see the light at the end.
The bed rest I’ve been on has given me a lot of time to think. Our situation could actually be so much worse. I’m feeling that even if this baby girl comes early, we’ll be ok. I am so grateful for my friends and family. For people I don’t know who have left comments telling me it’s going to be ok.
At the end of the day, none of this will matter. That’s what I have to remember.