The "V" Word

I haven’t blogged in two months. Things have been pretty calm.  This baby boy is moving a lot to provide me much reassurance.  Nothing eventful has happened to send me into a tailspin.  I have kept myself quite busy so I don’t have too much time to think or overanalyze what might be going on inside my body.  I’ve let go a lot and realized that I there is little that I really have control over and have resigned myself to just being in the moment.  The last two months have been quite tolerable and I’ve basked in the calmness.  But I’ve noticed recently that I have started changing.  My mind has starting wandering, thinking, speculating, and the inevitable….worrying.  I am thirty-four weeks today.  Getting into territory that others feel is safe.  I have heard from these others in their attempts to reassure me that where I am is a good place to be.  I mean, I reached “viability” weeks ago.   My OB has even been one of the comforters that has reminded me that even if I delivered this baby now, there’s an incredible chance that everything would be okay, that my baby would be healthy, that he would most certainly survive.  And I softly and quite gently have to remind these friends that this bit of insightfulness does little to relieve my anxiety.  I know these friends are trying to comfort, trying to help, trying to make me feel safe, but I feel I can’t let this sentiment slip by unnoticed.  I feel like if they are really trying to help then they must know what’s in my heart, where my fear lies, why I can’t let their comment float on by as I do so many others.  I cannot let this sentiment go because if it dares to come back again, I will flee, I will cry, I will scream.  So I find a way to say it, to let them know that this “viability” means nothing to me.  It doesn’t comfort me, it cuts through me to the core, this false sense of security, this empty promise, this black hole of faithfulness. 

And please let me pause for a moment to say that I am not angry with these friends, I am not hurt by them, I know they mean no harm with their words.  I am grateful for these friends, the ones who are brave enough to have these conversations with me, the ones who will talk with me about the things that scare me the most, the ones whose hearts are open enough to listen when I can no longer fight the tears of fear.  I am not trying to condemn them for these conversations, I am just trying to open the door a little further for understanding.  I am still desperate to be heard and most of all, desperate to be understood. 

So please understand that while others are beginning to breathe their collective sighs of relief during their third trimester, I am, it feels at times, solitarily just beginning to hold my breath.  It is incredibly awkward when this topic of viability comes up to remind you that my first born child, my son Wyatt Nicholas, was born at 40 weeks and 1 day.  He was 8 pounds, 4 ounces.  I went through 40 weeks of an uneventful pregnancy…no gestational diabetes, no high blood pressure, perfect ultrasounds…no reason to believe that I would go to the hospital in labor and turn around and leave empty-handed, with no certain cause of death.  This “viability” brings no truth to my heart.   I am haunted by horrifying memories that only serve to remind me that there are no guarantees.  There is no safety net.   There is no “home free”.  The closer I get to 40 weeks, the more fear chips away at my calmness and I have to search my soul for alternative ways to find peace.  And I am there, in a frantic search for ways in which to bring peace to my heart for the next 5 weeks.   And I will find a way, I am sure.  This anxiety surge is fairly recent and I am beginning to recognize it for who it is.  I am pretty certain I know who I am and I know I am bigger, stronger and tougher than this fear that tries to take me over.  I know I will fight this anxiety, these haunting memories, this taunting beast with tools that I have used before to conjure peace and combat fear.  I just have to remember what these tools were and have to remember where I have stored them.  So all I am asking from you, those around me that have embraced me throughout this journey, is your patience and understanding.  There are going to be moments when I cannot feign complete joyfulness.  There are going to be moments when I break down and sob with little warning.  There are going to be moments when I completely snap and lose any sense of grace or composure that I might have had weeks ago.  Please understand that these are the fleeting moments when peace has escaped me momentarily.  Please understand that these are the moments when I have temporarily lost my faith.  Please understand that I want to believe as much as you do that everything is going to be okay, I just have my history to remind me of the worst case scenario.  But also know that I am fighting, fighting all of this restlessness with all of my might.  And I am determined to win this fight, to find my peace, to find my faith, and find some sense of security to hold onto for the next five weeks.   I am hopeful, I am fightful and I am determined to slay this dragon once and for all.  I just might need my army of supporters to rally along with me and ride by my side.