An IUGR pregnancy is not straight forward. An IUGR pregnancy seems a little more fragile. More tense. Less carefree, if you like.
From the moment you’re told your baby is not growing well, you feel a little like a ticking time bomb. Each hospital appointment brings stress and fear into your bones. You pack your bag and take it with you each time, in case this is the week that they tell you your pregnancy must end. Baby must be delivered now. Baby is, finally, better out than in.
You walk out of the hospital each week with a huge sense of relief coursing through your veins. Your bag weighs heavy in your hand once more, and you think about replacing those prem vests with tiny baby vests instead, seeing as your baby is going to make it inside for another week. And then you realise that one more week might not be long enough for baby to graduate onto tiny baby vests after all.
And with that, the relief starts to fade and you enter another week of watiting and hoping.
And in between the scans and check ups, there is the CTG monitoring. Watching the numbers leap and fall, leap and fall. Hearing your baby’s heartbeat rattle on. Willing your baby to move, just a little.
And those little vests stay packed in your bag because you know that one of these days, they’re going to keep you in. And take your baby out.
Failure to thrive.
Too small.
Low birth weight.
At risk.
And then baby is here.
Handed to you carefully, and you take her into your arms and cry a little, smile a little. And then what?
All those questions nobody ever answered are still buzzing around in your head. All of the stress and worry and fear doesn’t just disappear. With baby inside, the doctors were keeping an eye on you. With baby now here, the doctors are done. Baby is yours. Responsibility is yours. Yours.
And so after an IUGR pregnancy… what is normal?
I think I realised that something was not be quite right when I couldn’t look at my babies without tears spilling down my cheeks. Falling like fat raindrops onto my lap. Without a ball of fear rolling in the bottom of my stomach like a pendulum in a pit. Without a dark, cold and gnawing itch spreading over my body, through my brain and into my soul. Falling apart but keeping it together just a little while longer.
I think I knew something wasn’t quite right. I think I’ve always known. And what to do about t?
Admit how I feel and then be forced into talking about it? Because, then, where would I stop? How would I keep the whole sorry mess from spewing forth once more, into my life and into theirs? But to stay quiet, to trudge on in this way… There has to be an ending sooner or later.
And so, something is not quite right. And I don’t know how to fix it. Nor how it got this way. Nor what is wrong with me. Why I can’t look at my babies and feel such utter joy and love and be thankful that they are all here and well and happy. Why I can’t enjoy my time with them. Why the days are all a blur right now and the mornings begin with dread and fear.
My IUGR baby is five months old, and doing so well and yet I still sometimes feel as though the rug is about to be pulled from under my feet.
I want to raise awareness of IUGR and birth trauma to help others like Elsie and I. I can do this with your vote in the Brilliance in Blogging awards. If we’ve inspired you, please consider voting for us in writer, family or inspire categories. Thank you!
Here is the form. My email address is ghostwritermummy@hotmail.co.uk
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your certainly not alone and your blog really touched me. I spent weeks crying every time I got a “good” scan but then instantly became worried about the next one. We are diagnosed sga although I’m still not sure of the difference other than they don’t know why she is small. I worry now at nearly 4 month about every cough and sneeze expecting something to go wrong when in reality she is perfect x
My two girls were SGA, which is why we were booked in for growth scans. As far as I know, all IUGR babies are SGA but SGA babies are not IUGR. SGA are simply small with no evidence of growth restriction. Hope that helps? THank you so much for reading and for your lovely comment. I’m so glad your little one is doing so well x x x x
That does help thanks. I found it so scary that when pregnant I had weekly monitoring but once she was born a few hours later we were home with nothing. If it helps my eldest was classed as sga just at 6lb 7 although I didn’t find out until I was pregnant with my third and he has just turned four and he is perfect and even advanced in some areas. i really think more research needs doing tho the unknown is scary x
Oh lovely I know the feelings you describe so well and I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. I’m a firm believer in talking. I think, although painful, it works wonders…but it’s your choice. Only you know truly what will help you, but I’m sure there will be many people happy to listen. Take care, will be thinking of you lovely xx
Thank you so much. I think you’re right, I think talking would help x x x x
Oh Susanne, newborns are worrying and scary as it is, without the added concerns of Elsie’s pregnancy and low birth weight. It’s completely understandable that you might need some help to deal with it. I’m always here if you need a chat, we must get together soon xxx
Yes I’d love to meet up with you, its been too long! And thank you for reading and commenting x x x x
My IUGR baby is now 8 and very normal. He plays ice hockey and does well in school. He is a still a little small for his age but not noticeably. After 2 weeks in NICU I feel very lucky he is doing so well. Because of his low birth weight he had to be resuscitated after birth. With both pregnancies after I took aspirin and although studies haven’t proven that is works or not, for me it did but every pregnancy is different and you can’t do a do over to say if it worked or not. Now 28 weeks pregnant I still worry with every appointment they will see something but luckily I am followed closely and baby is monitored.
I’m glad all is going well this time for you. And hearing how well your IUGR baby is doing is a huge comfort too. Thank you so much for reading and for your lovely comment. Hope you’re well and baby continues to thrive x x x x
This post really touched me. My IUGR baby had to come out at 29 weeks, a tiny miracle. Now 17 months, doing very well despite his tough start
I am so glad your IUGR baby is doing so well! It must have been so scary to deliver so early- what amazing things the doctors can do. And how strong our little babies are able to fight. Thank you so much for your comment, and for reading. It means a lot x x x
Like you every week, days or even seconds that my baby survive my tummy is an accomplishment and then before I can sigh of relief my mind will start worrying again for the next. #sharewithme
Of course you will always worry. All mums worry, even without all the additional trauma that you’ve suffered! I couldn’t help thinking, though, isn’t it lovely to read that there was a happy ending and your little lady is doing really well! xx
Oh Susanne, I’m so sorry to hear you are feeling like this. Can you talk to your partner about things? I often find talking about things and sharing things can help? xx
Oh Susanne I am sorry to hear this but know you are doing so well and it’s a great step just sharing how you are feeling here and to bring awareness to others that may be or have gone through what you have. You are so strong and so brave already!!! And a great mommy!!! Big hugs my lovely. I hope things get smoother and those feelings of the rug being tubbed out go away soon. You have beautiful babies!!! Thank you so much for linking up to Share With Me. Happy Easter! #sharewithme
Aww hugs lovely. You’re doing an amazing job and everyone can see that. Maybe you just need some time to yourself and someone to talk to? Maybe your other half? Or a friend who’ll just let you talk at them so you can get it all out? I know having a good old rant helps me feel better but just do what’s right for you xxx
I’ve only just read this piece now. Beautifully put.
My son was 9 years old at the start of December but I am still haunted almost daily by the terrifying and stressful time we had during my twin pregnancy and for the 90 days Tom spent in hospital after his delivery at 33 weeks weighing 1lb 5oz. He was expected to die from 19 weeks gestation.
These days I am battling constantly to have all his needs met, or have issues taken seriously by the medical profession. He has been tube fed since he was 5 and is on growth hormone treatment. He has severe hearing loss, ASD and looks to have a tethered spinal cord among many other bits and bobs.
From the moment he was delivered and whisked away to NICU, no one has really asked how I’m doing. I just have to keep going.
I am so so sorry you have been through all of this alone. It simply isn’t right and nobody should have to face this alone. I really hope you can get some support xxx x