Over this last week I moved forward with optimism and faith and was completely confident after our big day of fasting and prayer when we evaluated baby on Wednesday everything would point to signs of miracles.
I had faith. I was positive. I was eating consciously and carefully to try and put on as much weight as possible. Everything was going to improve, I just knew it.
So when the doctor told me yesterday his growth has slowed drastically and he is now in the 5th percentile and his little tummy has barely shown any signs of growth at all, I felt a pin prick my balloon of optimism. Then she said I had to start coming in twice a week because now stillbirth is a major concern.
I tried to push away her concerns and justified in my head that this doctor is one of the negative ones. But even my very trusted and calming general practitioner, who discussed the results and prognosis with me after the appointment, felt her concerns and strong recommendation were founded.
Pop.
It's become a matter of precision timing. The longer he stays in there the greater the chances of stillbirth as he slowly starves. But, we need to keep him in as long as possible to let his heart and brain develop as much as possible to prepare for surgery. The added evaluation will increase our chances of preventing stillbirth through an emergency caesarean in the event he shows additional signs of distress. If I don't go and he were to pass in utero I don't think I could ever forgive myself.
I must have woken up over twenty times last night and couldn't go back to sleep until I felt him move. It's been the first thing I have thought about every morning for the last 14 weeks but now it seems even more imminent. I keep telling myself it is probably for the better if he does pass in utero as it would be painless for him, so long as we have done everything we can. Yet, no amount of self talk will prepare me for the morning I no longer feel him moving, if that morning ever comes.
If.
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