31 Weeks, 0 Days

Today, all day, I just feel like I'm on the edge of a complete break down. I usually have one about once a week now, but knowing I'm going home on Monday makes it even worse. When my daytime nurse told me my favorite nighttime nurse would be here tonight, but was probably going to have to go home early because they were overstaffed, so I shouldn't request her, I immediately broke into tears. I've been looking forward to seeing her for two days, and was talking just the other day, "Tammie will be here again on Saturday..." She's one of the few up here that I can talk to honestly about how I'm feeling (emotionally, psychologically), who listens and really seems to "get" it. Since I've been on edge all day, I kept telling myself, "Hold it in, Kat. You can cry and just vent it all out when Tammie gets in tonight. She might even decide it needs to be mentioned to Dr. Devine. Just hold out until the 7 o'clock shift."

I'm so sad, frustrated, and disappointed to leave on Monday. Who is sad to leave the hospital, you ask? There are so many reasons, and I must go over them all a million times a day with Travis. To be perfectly honest (and why the heck not, I've got nothing to lose), we're having insane money issues, and for the past three weeks, those have been put on hold. Being in the hospital has been a little sanctuary for me to not have to think about those issues. I don't get mail up here, so I don't see the endless bills flowing in daily at home. I don't have to deal our rent problems, or thinking about the fact that Josiah's nursery isn't finished, and we can't afford to finish it right now.

On Monday, Travis goes back to school with the rest of the state, and I go back to being on bed rest at home by myself all day. Again, I'll be at the mercy of available family members to bring me lunch whenever they can, or else I don't eat. I'll yet again be trapped to the seclusion of our dark tiny bedroom, unless I somehow get up the energy to wander to the couch, which isn't nearly as comfortable, but the living room doesn't depress me as quickly either. I guess because the bedroom was my prison the entire time I had HG, staying in bed for one hour longer than I need to during the day is just too much.

I won't have nurses stopping by to check up on me or just chat with me during the day. I also will suddenly have to start worrying again, like I did before. I'll have to worry over all the things they worry about. Before I went into the hospital, my days were spent at home by myself obsessing over the last time I felt Josiah move, how long that last contraction lasted, and whether that dizziness or heart palpitation meant anything alarming. I was an absolute basket case, and by the time Travis would get home on most evenings, I was crying uncontrollably from the worry and exhaustion it would cause. Travis is so wonderful, and our family is so supportive and loving, but there are some things (the biggest things) that only I can watch and look for. Bearing the sole weight of responsibility for so many things that could mean life or death for baby in a high risk pregnancy is truly enough to make a woman go crazy. If I blow off one ache or pain, or convince myself that one weird feeling means nothing, I could potentially put Josiah's life in complete risk. I can't tell you how exhausting that is. Am I really excited to return to that place? For the last three weeks, I've slept more soundly, and felt more relaxed than I have in about four months.

Since week 6 when the HG began, I've been in this boat. I've felt so alone, so sick, and so scared... and in the absolute darkest moments, I'd look towards March as my independence day. Then suddenly, a doctor threw me a life raft that had January written all over it. I clung to it. I do not want a tiny, sick NICU baby. Please don't get me wrong. But I feel such peace in my heart that whenever they deliver, be it now or nine weeks from now, he'll be fine. So dealing with the idea of him being born early wasn't really a fear for me. The Lord has him. Having that peace allowed me to feel nothing but relief when they talked about delivering him. I'm so tired of being sick and worried. I thought it was going to end soon. I don't want him to be sick enough to warrant an early delivery, but if they're going to prepare me emotionally for one, I'd just assume it happen.

I didn't want to walk out of here without a baby. I was told I should settle in here until he was born, and I did the settling part. Now they're telling me I can go home (to repeat the excruciating process I thought I was past), only to return up here in a few weeks. Dr. Atkinson said I was looking at a 35 to 37 week delivery if he continues looking as good as he does. They just had me so convinced that I wasn't leaving until I had a baby. I thought this was it. The end of the road. This hospital trip, in my mind, marked the last leg of this horrible race, whether that race ended at 32 weeks or 39. I felt like someone had finally taken all the baggage I bear, and said, "Don't worry anymore. We're watching him. It isn't your burden to bear anymore. If anything happens, we're here and we have a plan. You just rest." Now they're throwing me out on a limb alone again.

I guess I decided to blog about my feelings since I can't talk to Tammie about them. I was hoping she'd be here tonight so I could tell her everything. I thought maybe she'd say something to Dr. Devine or Dr. Atkinson about it and perhaps they could come up with something comforting to say. As it is, everyone up here, bless them, thinks I'm delighted to go home on Monday. I guess everyone assumes if it was them that they would be.

Please pray that I can handle being at home for the next six weeks. Pray that nothing comes up that I miss or don't recognize in time that could put Josiah in jeopardy. And please continue to pray for a safe arrival, whenever that may be.
God bless,
Kathleen and Travis