The Wait-and-See Life

Well…here we are, wrapping up week 32. Suffice it to say Mike and I are thrilled our baby girl is still growing, moving and doing well, despite our complicated situation, and I am still at home and pregnant.  Hannah is a pound up and  we are putting my hospital stay behind us. Or at least we are trying to. As Mike says, “Our scenery has changed but,  unfortunately,  our situation has not.”

Every time I feel Hannah kicking around, every night I get to tuck Eloise into bed is a prayer answered. But I would be lying if I said the pressure of being the only one who can tell whether the baby is still doing OK at any second of any day in between appointments wasn’t getting to me.  One of my client friends who had a similar strange end-of-pregnancy experience described it as feeling like a ticking time bomb. Exactly.  Exactly. Exactly.  I’m not a wait-and-see kind of girl. (I know…understatement of the year).  Every day is a battle with my mind to steer it away from incredibly scary what-ifs and speculation.  I’m not technically on bed rest but have been told to “take it very easy.”  While I absolutely love the chance to snuggle up with my two-year-old and her favorite Daniel Tiger episodes, build countless Lego block towers and reread the same books over and over again (Ellie’s choice these days!), my drastically reduced schedule makes it hard to find adequate distractions to keep the overwhelming thoughts at bay. And yesterday, I was told to take it easier still. So I can’t count on nightly leisurely walks around the block with my little family, trips to the playground with Ellie or the occasional Mariano’s run just to get out of the house. I need to even more drastically change my mindset about this situation.  My job right now is to keep my feet up and do everything in my power to keep this baby growing and healthy for at least two more weeks. Easier said than done when my constant companion is Eloise. (Although she’s definitely the highlight of every single day. Who better to hang out with than this tutu-wearing, block-building, book-reading, constantly laughing, quippy little nut?)

If you had asked me four weeks ago, I would have told you I feared things were only going to be worse…more terrifying and overpowering…once Hannah was born. Now…I’m not so sure. I have so many days when I already feel like a shell of a person.  How will I find the strength to send our baby into surgeries and leave her in the NICU every day?  (I seriously cried the other night when Eloise fell down outside and scraped her knee.) Many people who have survived the NICU and similar experiences have told me we will just get through it. Because we have to. And that someday we will look back and wonder how we did it. I think (hope) once I look into Hannah’s eyes and have a better feel for who our little daughter is…once I can hold her in my arms…once we know with more certainty what exactly we are up against…in some sense, I will find a greater strength and things will get easier.  It will also help that I won’t be pregnant…battling third trimester discomfort and monitoring every single twinge, feeling totally helpless. But that could  all just be more speculation…my hope for a light at the end of a bleak tunnel. Back to the wait-and-see game it is. The doctors are really hoping we can hold out for another 2 weeks. Mike and I are greedy and are hoping for 4-5.  Because as intimidating as 4-5 more weeks of living with this level of uncertainty is, it’s much more overwhelming to consider the alternative.

There really aren’t words to describe how blessed Mike and I feel with every note, thought, prayer, visit and gift  we have received over the last few weeks. The decision to “go public” was a hard one for us, but the resulting support has been so inspirational and uplifting…thank you again, friends, from the bottom of our hearts.