Five days after the growth scan and I’m wondering if it is all sinking in now.
The fragility of life.
The way things change.
Is it all sinking in now?
I thought I had weeks and weeks to choose a pram, to knit some hats and to pack my bags. I might still have all that time. I might not.
I keep forgetting. And then I remember and a hard ball of dread drops into my stomach. And sits there. Clawing it over again and again. Telling me it was a mistake to even think I could have a VBAC. A mistake to assume that things would go my way.
And I keep waking up in a panic, thinking that the baby hasn’t moved in a while and surely that was a sign that it could already be too late. And why do they want to leave me until 34 weeks when clearly there is something wrong now? Or nothing wrong at all. And why would I want to risk a VBAC if there could be something wrong? But why would I not want a VBAC if this baby is perfectly healthy, and I am healthy too? And then sleep is never going to be on the cards.
I don’t know if I have dreamt that baby’s movements have reduced, or if it is really happening. And so I lie and I prod my stomach below the ribs where I think the head is, and further down where the legs must surely be. And baby may or may not move and my heart may or may not slow to a normal pace. And on one hand I want ten more weeks of this and yet ten more minutes could be torture.
It’s because I don’t know. I don’t know if all this panic is for nothing after all, or completely justified actually. I don’t know if this feeling of carrying a little ticking time bomb is right or not. I can only wait. And hope. And knit. And pack bags. And choose a pram. And things might be ok after all.