Kicked off cloud nine

This is something I’ve wrote down in my head a million times and now don’t have words for. Typical.

I should probably add a trigger warning to anyone pregnant, anxious or not in the mood for wordvomit.

If you ever want to know what it’s like to be a young mom, compare it to a 6-year-old getting a puppy. Nobody feels like it’s a good idea and everyone has an opinion. Often one that ends up with failure. When I got pregnant at 23, everyone and their mom had their say about it. There were a few ‘congratulations’ thrown in between the rain of ‘ is it planned ‘ -like questions and looks of concern. This was step one in my descend from my little cloud of joy. (Little did they know I battled with 2 years of hearing a baby was not in the books for me, hormones, crying and intense pain. Which is another story alltogether. )

“Yes, this baby is planned. Yes, I’m very excited.”

Step two started with growth scans that always showed a teenie-tiny wiggle worm that measured just above 10th percentile. I got scared, terrified, and my head raced towards worst case scenario. I kept this to myself – and my direct family – because I did not want to add more oil to the fire and give anyone another reason to shake their heads and pretend this was my fault. -It wasn’t, in case anyone from the boo-crowd is reading along.-

Fast forward to 23 weeks and a world of pain, we’ll call this the crash, not step, from two to three. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t keep still. Every doctor I saw in the five ( yes five ) hospitals I went to talked to me as if I was said 6-year-old and my concerns were nothing. ” What did you expect, pregnancy was not going to hurt ?” followed by ” take a nap, it’s growth pains “. Until one doctor decided to double check. I owe my life to this man, I owe hers to him. A hernia had formed in my abdomen and my bowels got stuck, if they had burst, you wouldn’t be wasting your time on reading this. It took exactly 5 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing from me and my boyfriend to get me prepped and wheeled off into surgery with my 23-week-old child, depending on me, still growing inside of me. If you have been pregnant, you know 23 weeks is not a good time to have such a surgery, as 24 weeks is the age of viability. It hit me that I could lose this baby, I could lose my daughter. This was the first time loss seemed like an actual option and it broke something inside of me, but NOT the will to fight for this baby. The last thing I said to my surgeon was ‘ her, not me, if you have to’ , knowing well enough that they would never do this. It was my way of saying” take care of her”, “make sure she’s here when I wake up.”

She was, and I could breathe again.

Since then, my brain could not wrap around her being fine. My concern went in overdrive and every small hickup – sometimes literally- sent me off to the ER. Sometimes to ease my mind and hear that little heartbeat race only to calm mine, sometimes for valid reason. Pre-term contractions, shortened cervix, you name it, I probably had it. At around 36 weeks my mind eased a bit, we had some good weeks, I got some rest. I stayed away from google ( yeah; guilty ). We had weekly check-ups at this point and, although she was still small, she was perfect.

Queu step four. 37 weeks and 3 days, I had a cheeseburger and fries before my checkup and was feeling a-okay, a fed pregnant woman is usually a happy one ( once the acid reflux packs it’s bags and leaves). Saw my girl, saw my doctor’s face and felt my lunch turn around and make it’s way up. ” Just going to run this by my colleague ” and long story short :

32 sweet hours of pain before I could see her face.

I know this was a heavy one, the post, the pregnancy, whatever. But I needed to write this off. Give it a place, not in my head yet, but here, in my own words. Before I forget and swallow them again.

For now this is all my heart can handle, but it felt GOOD to write this down. I will add her birthstory, after two years of procrastinating, soon-ish.

Thank you if you’ve gotten this far, supported me through any of this or just think nice thoughts about anyone because you never know the full story ( until they write a long boring blog post about )

Liz

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