Archive for December 2nd, 2009

That Magic Number

Mostly, I don’t question what’s going on with my pregnancy – I don’t sit waiting for the next appointment with a doppler or ultrasound machine to find out if I’m still pregnant. I don’t need independent confirmation right now because I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t still be throwing up in the event of a sudden fetal demise. So, mostly, I just don’t question my status as a pregnant woman. But you can’t totally take the infertile out of a veteran like me, so I admit that I am sometimes skeptical of the long term prospects of remaining in this state.

I don’t have any good reason for questioning it, but it seems to take a certain amount of hubris to assume that there will definitely be a baby at the end of all this sickness. I would have thought that getting into the 2nd trimester would have left me feeling better about the future. I’m well past the point of my miscarriage three years ago. I’m well into the 2nd trimester. And yet? Occasionally, something reminds me that it’s an awfully big assumption to make that all will be well. In some ways, I’m grateful for the constant, if miserable, reminders that I’m very definitely pregnant right now.

So what number will I have to hit to believe this is all going to be okay? I don’t know. I think I was about 31 weeks before I believed that with the triplets. But those are triplets. It was natural to worry.

For some reason, I can’t get out of my head that a pregnancy loss before 20 weeks is a "miscarriage" and after 20 weeks is a "stillbirth". For some unknown reason, I rarely consider the possibility of stillbirth, despite the fact that I know several women who have had stillbirths. For some unknown reason, it’s the risk of "miscarriage" specifically that crops up in the recesses of my mind occasionally.

I think there’s a societal feeling, at least around here, that miscarriages happen. That a baby lost through miscarriage never really had a chance in the first place, so that life is, somehow, less relevant. The trauma and tragedy isn’t as concrete as a stillbirth. A stillbirth is a real BABY that died in people’s minds, but a miscarriage was the loss of something… less. I know that we in the infertile blogosphere understand that this isn’t true, but in the general society? I think that the dividing line remains, at least in the collective subconscience. For whatever reason, I’m not worried that I’ll have a stillbirth – I don’t think of it as a real possibility. But there’s also something about knowing that NO ONE would deny me my right and need to grieve that loss, whereas an earlier loss… well, you’re just expected to get right over that.

I know I’m talking in circles, mostly because I’m trying to get these thoughts out of my head and onto the virtual "paper" in front of me.

However screwed up my "logic" (or lack thereof) is, I feel like when I hit 20 weeks, I’ll just… feel more secure. But, for the most part, like I said, it’s not that I sit around thinking about the fragility of this pregnancy. For the most part, I assume I’ll have a family of 7 (!!) next year. I’d just like that little voice that occasionally pops up and says, "you know it’s not too late to have a miscarriage!" to go away.

This episode of self-pity and self-indulgence is brought to you by the letters H and G and the number 5.

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