hopefulness shrouded in fear

I wrote a post on June 18 showing off my baby bump at 20 weeks, when Ada was as big as a banana. The photo was taken the day after Ada’s anatomy scan, and I wore a pink ribbon because I was so excited to find out she was a girl. I painted my toenails pink and dreamed about how we were going to raise this little girl to love science yet be feminine (if she so chose). It was one of the happiest times of my life.

About a week later, a woman hit our car from behind as we were on the way back home from Buy Buy Baby, where I had purchased a baby bath thermometer so I could safely relax in my new master bath. A week after that, Ada silently passed away. I didn’t know that she had died until the following week, at 23 weeks, when I went in for a routine doctor’s visit. The only clue I had that anything was amiss was a little bit of cramps, which are fairly common in pregnancy, something that my doctor at the time dismissed. I keep playing that time over and over in my mind, looking for clues, wondering what happened, wondering if we can connect the car accident to Ada’s death. If not, that means there is another reason why Ada died, something I can control even less than I can control traffic. Whatever the cause, my body failed to protect her, and failed to let me know anything was wrong. I know it’s not my fault, but I can’t help but think that my body is the cause of her death. It certainly didn’t help.

Today is the day after Rose’s anatomy scan. No pink ribbon today; I woke up crying and wore all black. I somehow managed to function all day at the office, but I started crying again the moment I got home. I desperately want to be happy to have reached the 20 week milestone yet again, but the fear and sadness is stronger. Will my body fail me again? Fail her? Fail my husband? Every day, I think this might be the day. Every time I check for a heartbeat, I think this might the time I won’t hear anything. I come up with elaborate plans for what I will do, who I will call, where I will go – even though I know that if I don’t hear a heartbeat it is probably too late. I’m so thankful that I can feel her move sometimes, but I wonder if it will be the last time.  When she’s not moving, the panic that she may already be gone slowly increases. I really don’t want to be so negative but it’s just there. Like a darkness that can not be resolved, too dark to penetrate with any light.

Word is getting out in my office that I am pregnant. It’s sort of funny, I thought most people knew since I’ve been huge for weeks now, but I guess they didn’t notice. It is a big office. I’ve gotten a few “congratulations” and I know they are being nice but what are they congratulating me for? For being lucky enough to have eggs left, I suppose. I smile and say thanks, but part of me wants to say “save that for when there is actually a baby”. I feel like Rose deserves better than this, but what can I do? How could I even consider a baby shower or anything like that when tomorrow may be the last day? At least I am looking into prenatal classes, that’s my little shred of hopefulness, plus the hospital will refund the fees with a doctor’s note. I’m reading Pregnancy 411 again, but the labor chapter will be useful no matter the outcome. A big part of me just doesn’t believe this will conclude with a living child.

I want to be celebrating each day that I have with Rose. I should be happy. I should be taking photos, not with fruits, but something, anything. I’m glad we are going for the 4D ultrasound on Saturday, though I wonder if I will cry as I did during the anatomy scan. I keep telling myself that I’m going to call around and schedule professional photos so I can have some good pictures of me and Rose, in case this time is all we get. I just don’t have the energy. It’s too overwhelming, this hopefulness shrouded in fear, the fear of being hopeful. I am thankful that I have the energy to write, at least. Writing takes a little of the charge out of the emotions, lets me think though the “why” behind the sadness. It might not make it better, but I’m glad to take off the burden for a moment. Now I just need to sleep.

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6 thoughts on “hopefulness shrouded in fear

  1. Thought+Food says:

    This is just to be expected after your experience, For my first baby,I could not really enjoy the clothes, nursery etc because I felt it might never be a reality after repeated losses. Hold on to he positive thoughts even when it is difficult, I ended up eating for comfort and had a difficult time losing the weight later but all of this will vanish when you see Rose Marie!

  2. Soccermom says:

    Oh sweetie. I knew something was up today, but I didn’t realize it was this. You looked different – sad yet wondering. I’ve often wondered how you are dealing with life, expectations, and time. Thank you for sharing your fears, hopes, and all the scary stuff and pain. Please know that you and your strength inspire me every day. That said, if you ever need to shed a little of your burden at work, you can do so with me.

    • Anastasia says:

      I really, really appreciate that. I keep telling myself it’s just a few more weeks. Once I get to 25 weeks my stress level will decrease, I hope.

      I planned on going to work at home after the meetings today but then there was stuff to do – and I was ever so thankful for the distraction. Loving what you do at work is really nice. And then two different coworkers asked me to lunch. Couldn’t ask for more.

  3. I have been thinking about you, rolling this blog in my mind, since I read it when you first posted it earlier. I wanted to say the right thing, then realized that nothing anyone really says will change your worries, your fears. So I have just decided to be doubly hopeful for you and sweet Rose. We will be strong with you, Anastasia.

  4. fade says:

    Oh Ana! I can feel your fear and pain even from a thousand miles away!
    I’ll keep praying and hoping for you that you will hold Rose Marie in your arms in a few months. Talk to her, tell her how much you want her, share your fears with her. That might help too. …{hugs}..

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