transcended.net

I’ve written about this before but I suppose it bears repeating given the nature of this post. I am not, by definition, “infertile.” But I think I get that world, at least much more so than I get the “fertile” preggo world.

I get what it feels like to know that comforting statistics aren’t actually comforting at all if you happen to find yourself on the wrong side of them. I get the pain of watching people pass you by and then lap you as you pray for it to be your turn. I get mourning “normal” even once you do finally have the dream of being pregnant come true.

I don’t know if resentful is the right word, it probably isn’t. Maybe jealousy would be more apt. Whatever, I still feel something every time I hear another pregnancy announcement or talk to another pregnant lady and hear all about her blissfully “normal” experience. No thoughts wasted on preemie survival rates or making sure there is a Level 3 NICU (in-network) at a vacation destination “just in case” (tip: Oahu has the only Level 3 NICU in the Pacific Islands). No looking up the preeclampsia forum. No fucking clue what MFM stands for.

Sigh.

I feel like the Bad News Bears every time I try to add to any conversation because I am always telling other preggos things they clearly don’t want (and likely won’t need) to know about.

No, we won’t be buying baby things until we reach viability. What’s viability?

(Actually this is not entirely true, there was a coupon code for a few free items that only lasted a week so I ordered them and when they came I put them in a box in our storage closet).

Why, yes, we’ve had six ultrasounds and will be having a fetal ECG done every two weeks starting at 18 weeks due to a potential heart defect. What’s an ECG?

Well my due date is February 15 but it’s unlikely my doctors will let me go past 39 weeks since they’re worried about preeclampsia. Pre-eh what?

You get the picture.

I feel like the orange amongst a sea of apples.

At the moment, amongst real life friends, there are eight babies (including ours) expected between December 2012 and March 2013.

My first thought upon reflecting on this was thank GOD I am pregnant or you all would be in for a seriously epic pity party (a la February). My second thought is one that I’m pretty sure puts me squarely in the “only an infertile” camp, it was that, if I lose this baby I will have seven reminders of what should of been.

Horrible, I know. Dark, I know. Incredibly self-centered. I. Know.

It wasn’t a thought I wanted to have, believe me, I wish my mind didn’t turn to such things. But how can it not when since before I even got pregnant I have been warned over and over and over again how my doctors will be “walking on eggshells” and have their “fingers crossed” the whole time I’m pregnant. How can that fear and anxiety, and let’s be honest, reality not permeate my thoughts?

I was talking to EJ (have I ever mentioned how thankful I am that we reconnected before we both started going through all this shit?) about this yesterday and how hard it is to get more and more attached to your baby as each day passes, while becoming more and more terrified at the idea of losing them. Once past the first trimester other preggos are onto planning the nursery and buying baby clothes while we count the days, hours and minutes to viability because for us that is when we will finally be able to breathe.

Nobody else gets it. Not that I expect them to.

But I still feel like an outsider looking in.

Please don’t misunderstand me and the point of this post. I am so grateful for this little one growing inside me. This is a dream come true and it truly is everything I’d hoped for and more. I know how lucky I am to even be having this experience and I know that even just twenty or thirty years ago it would not have been possible. I feel so blessed every single day I get to be this baby’s mommy and carry him (or maybe her) inside of me. I am constantly amazed at the fierceness with which I can love someone who’s face I don’t even recognize, but I’m unquestionably in love.

But the depth of that love is also what scares me. I’m not in the “safe zone” and so I am so scared to lose this precious little one. I know I have to trust God, and I do, after all He is the one who entrusted me with this miracle in the first place. But that doesn’t make this any less scary.

I am sixteen weeks today. Exactly eight weeks from viability. Twelve weeks til this kiddo has a 80% chance of surviving outside my womb. Eighteen weeks til my first goal (34 weeks). Twenty-one weeks til viability (my loftier goal).

Please body, I’m begging you, don’t fail us.