posted by Mel
I suppose most people would say yesterday’s NST and biophysical profile went well. Unfortunately I’m more of a downer these days. Simone had a 3rd reactive NST, which I’m told is really unusual (in a good way) for her gestational age. Blood flow through the cord continues to look much improved from where it was 2 weeks ago.
She has had no growth spurt. I was hoping for 3 lbs. I gained 3 lbs in one week. She gained 1/2 lb in 2 weeks. I think this is probably normal for her gestational age, but she just has so much catching up to do that I was hoping for better. She is 30 weeks and just 2 lbs 9 oz. She has dropped a percentage point to be in the 3rd percentile for growth. One percentage point doesn’t seem like a lot until you get into those teeny tiny numbers. The peri said it’s not statistically significant, but in the next breath said that if she dropped down to 1%, she’d take her.
My mom asked if she was still planning to take Simone at 37 weeks. The answer: Absolutely. So I asked, will I make it to 37 weeks? The answer: (She sucks her breath in deeply) Unlikely. Will I make it to 34 weeks? The answer: (Another deep breath) I hope so.
No matter what I do, I cannot seem to keep myself from hoping and from being disappointed. This baby is going to be born in a month– if I’m lucky. This baby is going to end up in the NICU no matter what I do. She is not coming home with me. I’m going to get drugs I didn’t want no matter what I do. Simone is going to remain tiny no matter what I do. She’s going to need help breathing. She’s going to need help feeding.
I know I should be really happy I’ve made it this far. She is viable. The tests prove that she is strong and continuing to develop. The peri says that her size is not as important as her development, that she can be healthy and well developed even if she is small.
I just can’t stop mourning for that other birth– getting to go into labor on my OWN, getting to DECIDE when and what drugs I am given, getting to hold her first and put her to my breast instead of having her taken from me and handed to a fetal specialist immediately, put in an isolette where I’ll be able to look at her but maybe not even touch her, getting to take her home from the hospital and start our lives together immediately the way other parents and babies do, getting the chance to let my body redeem itself, prove that it really was made to do this. Science Science Science. I’m so glad it’s available to me and so fucking resentful that I’m dependent upon it– to get pregnant, to stay pregnant, to deliver my baby, to keep her alive after she’s delivered. When do I get to be normal?
I’m not taking it down, but my ticker is taunting me. It says she should be almost 4 lbs right now. I’d much rather be worrying about tears and episiotomies and whether I was going to want that epidural or not right now.