Saturday, May 14, 2011


24 weeks, 7 weeks + 2 days post rupture, day 4 at my parent's place.
(doctor's dates put me at 23 weeks + 5 days).

Still baking. We've passed the gestational age that Aidan was born at even by the latest due date that the doctor's have me at.


I'm still pretty down, but distraction is easier here at my parent's place. I have good food, my mom, my dad and Brian to talk to. No one bothering me to take my temperature or blood pressure every couple of hours. No one wakes me up in the morning to take pills. No one wants to hear the medical story of my life. Everyone here already knows it. It's such a relief.

I have been sending e-mails to update family and friends. I didn't do that at all when I was pregnant with Aidan. Some people didn't even know I was pregnant until after he died. I kind of regretted that after the fact, as I feel like maybe I missed out on letting people support us. Or maybe they would have been sadder for themselves if they knew Aidan was 'coming' and then he wasn't. So I've tried to do more 'sharing' this time around. My e-mails are a shortened but accurate description of what is happening. I try not to sound too hopeful, but also not too pessimistic. And I continue to be appreciative of all the e-mail support I've gotten back.

One thing that I've found really hard about letting more people in on the loop is the inevitable response of people wanting to come to visit, either when I was at home, or at the hospital or here at my parents place. People often want to schedule these visits days in advance and I'm at a loss as to what to tell them. My friend texted me the other day and said "How about I come by next Friday?" I literally don't know what to say because I have NO IDEA as to what will be happening next Friday. My plan is to still be waiting it out, pregnant at my parents' place, with no pain, no bleeding and hopefully building up fluid. The reality could be very different.

People don't get the moment to moment worry this situation causes us. How I could literally be laying around, watching a movie, sleeping, having dinner, or 'entertaining' guests and something could happen. I could spike a fever, start to cramp or bleed. I could have silent dilation of the cervix and the cord could prolapse cutting off the blood flow to the baby. Acorn could literally go from fine (or fine-ish) to dead in less than the amount of time it takes to brew a pot of tea. This morning I got up and realized I hadn't really felt him kick in awhile...and I thought "this could be it, he could be already gone. I might be delivering today". My next thought was "at least I got a good sleep last night if that's the case". A quick check with the doppler said his heart beat was still it's normal 150-ish so that was a relief, but just brings it home that any day, any hour, any minute, could be the end.

I really don't want other people (other than my mom or Brian, or my brother or dad in a pinch) around if that is going to happen. Brian feels the same way. He wants to be with me, just in case, and any distraction (including work) is hard to endure. Do I miss people and wish I could distract myself with visitors? Absolutely. Do I wish I could get outside and do something normal and fun to while away the time? Of course. It's not that I feel like these prospective visitors are bothering me. I wish very much that I could have a parade of them...but I'm afraid of what my body might do when they're here. I guess I could liken it to when you have the flu. You might barf at any moment and you don't want people, even nice, kind people like your best friend or your extended family members around if you're going to have to run to the bathroom.

So while pregnancy is usually a time to gather your friends and family around you to celebrate and wait in anticipation, a time for parties, gifts and exchanges of knowledge and support...I'm alone.

And sadly, I like it that way.

What the heck happened to all your lovely comments on my last post? Stupid Blogger stole my comments and didn't give them back!


  1. Stupid blogger is supposed to be working on getting the comments back before the weekend is over.(I am missing a bunch too)

    Good to hear you are still hanging in there and that the move from the hospital was the right thing for you to do. If alone is what you need, then go with it as long as you need to.

  2. I agree, go with what you need. You, and the hubs, have to bear the huge burden *but still optimistic for you too* of what is going on, so stick with what feels right.

    So happy to hear that your situation is more comforting. So so happy to hear it.

  3. I just stumbled across your blog on the Stirrup Queens blogroll, and I have to tell you that I've read every post from the beginning until now in the space of about three days. I'm so sorry about Aidan, and I truly hope that Acorn's story has a happy ending for you. I just want you to know that you, your husband, Aidan, Acorn, and your entire family are in my thoughts and prayers.

  4. That makes perfect sense about not wanting "visitors". I'm sure you could say it in such a way that they would get it.

  5. I am glad you did what you were comfortable with! and I hope for the best outcome, I will remain cautiously optimistic and be rooting you on from over here in Maine!

    Grow baby Grow! and Heal that tear body! Or else i'm calling chuck norris.

  6. So glad you're feeling more comfort at your parents home and that your sharing with others so that they can offer support. Completely understandable about the visiting part though, your example of having the flu made perfect sense as to why you don't feel ready for visiting friends at this point. Ultimately you should do what feels right to you at this time. Continuing to hold hope for you and Acorn ((hugs))

  7. Glad you're in a more comfortable place, with the people you need around you. It's hard to tell people no when they love you and really want to help, but it sounds like one way they can help right now is to provide some space for you.

    Blogger wouldn't let me comment on your last post, but I'm so, so sorry about the fluid. I can only imagine how frustrating and scary and sad that was, especially after all you've been through. My fingers are still crossed for you and Acorn.

  8. ((HUGS)) (Sorry - I just don't have any good words today but have been thinking of you.)

  9. The visitors problem was something I struggled with as well, because I was leaking fluid and sometimes bloody fluid, and needed to check all the time what the heck was coming out of me, but could not wipe in polite company. At least I am glad that you are feeling better at your parents's place.

  10. I am glad you are feeling more comfortable and I hope that you get to rest for so much longer ...