37 Weeks: Please Get Here Safely & Soon, Little One

Thank you everyone for your kind words of condolence on my last post. It means a lot to feel surrounded by love and good thoughts during this crappy time.

It probably comes as no surprise to you that I’m feeling, uh…crappy right now.

I vacillate between wanting to scream about my brother and feeling debilitating anxiety about this pregnancy. I suspect much of my grief is currently being channeled into anxiety — probably my brain’s way of protecting myself. Because it is just too much right now. Some days I feel like a robot that is incapable of feeling anything but fear. As I type this I am crying because I am sad and scared and just ugh. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next two weeks until my induction. I am a mess. I just feel like I can’t handle anymore.

Things have not been going smoothly with the end of pregnancy, but ultimately everything is fine. Baby continues to fail all of her non-stress tests, but then looks ok on the biophysical profiles. The maternal fetal medicine doctor assured me that this is completely fine, that baby girl looks overall great. But still, it freaks me out. I’ve been itching like crazy, so I was tested for cholestasis, which is this liver condition that is bad news for the baby. So far I’ve had two rounds of tests and they’ve both been very strong negatives. I’m getting one more round of tests, so we’ll see, but it looks like I’ve dodged the cholestasis bullet and am just having random pregnancy itching. Then, most recently, I switched from Lovenox to Heaprin a week ago and since then I’ve been getting large red patches around the injection site. They look and feel like sunburn. I went to labor and delivery on Monday to have it checked out and they tested my platelets (which is what they are most concerned about), and all was well with those. My doctor, who is super cautious, looked at my abdomen again on Wednesday and wasn’t concerned about it. She thinks my skin is just so stretched that it can’t handle the injections anymore. I was ok with this explanation until this morning when a nurse at my monitoring appointment looked at it and was like, “That doesn’t look right! It could be an allergic reaction. You need to call us right away if it get worse!” This of course made me freak despite the fact that two different doctors on two different occasions weren’t worried about it. The nurse is right, though–it doesn’t look right. Ugh.

My doctor told me that at my next appointment she’d check my cervix and make an official plan for induction. So things are moving along. Just not fast enough for my strung out self.

I can’t go to my brother’s funeral because it’s in California and I will likely be giving birth or have the teeniest of newborns the day he is laid to rest. I can’t be with my family right now, at a time when we all need each other.

Everything is just too much, you guys. I cannot handle any more right now. Not one more single thing.

I just need this baby to get here safely. Please, baby, make your way out into the world soon — healthy and pink and screaming. Please.

Something nice did happen today, though, so I’ll leave you with that. A few weeks ago, I commissioned my friend, Danielle Kroll , who is an artist and illustrator to paint a something for the baby’s room. She sent me a picture of the final piece this morning. She painted something for Lettie right before she was born, which I adore, but I think I love this one even more. Without further ado, here is is. I really needed a reminder of hope today.

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23 thoughts on “37 Weeks: Please Get Here Safely & Soon, Little One

  1. Thinking of you. I am devastated for you that you can’t attend your brother’s funeral. I am just so sorry. I hope the baby comes soon and can lighten everything up for you. Big hugs!

  2. My friend, as always I am sending you my love and my hope. I am desperately waiting for the day that baby arrives all pink and screaming. Somehow with all you’ve been through lately I just hope she brings a sense of peace and purpose to you.
    Also, the painting is beautiful and perfect.

  3. I love Emily Dickinson! Also, there is something about coming face to face with mortality, especially the unexpected kind that puts the fear that I will lose something else too. I was irrationally afraid that my husband was going to die after Ever did. I didn’t want him out of my sight. I’m really glad your doctors are doing everything they can for you. Prayers and thoughts my sweet friend.

  4. I’m liking this post because of the painting, not the other stuff. I’m sorry that you’re dealing with so much right now. I’m also sorry that you can’t be with your family when you all need each other the most. There’s nothing I can say that will make you feel better, but please know that I’m thinking about you and also your family and sending love your way. Try to hang in there. *hugs*

  5. That painting is gorgeous! Obviously I am not experiencing the grief that you are but I do feel that anxiety about getting baby safely earth side. I’m sorry things have been tough for you at the end. It’s not fair and really sucks. Sending love xxx

  6. You poor thing. Everything is just awful right now!! I’m so sorry.

    I think I can explain what is going on with the shots. Same thing happened to me. You might see that your heparin contains benzyl alcohol as a preservative. It’s in all kinds of stuff and doesn’t bother me. But in those shots, I react badly. So much so that if I ever take them again, I’ll be requesting preservative free heparin. Which is something you could try since you have 2 weeks left and it might save you some misery.

    1. Oh my gosh, this is so helpful, thank you. I checked my heparin and it doesn’t have the benzyl alcohol, but is preserved with parabens. I did some digging and it looks like there’s three kinds: preserved with benzyl, preserved with parabens and preservative free. It appears that the preservative free is hard to find, but I’m going to call a couple of pharmacies and see if they have it or can order it. If it’s a fast/easy switch I’ll do it. If not, I guess I’ll just stick with the paraben version for the next two weeks. Thanks again!

  7. So hard for you to be going through all of this. I was a mess at the end of my pregnancy, terrified something would happen that would undo 9 months of waiting and growing. And that was without the grief you must be going through. I can’t even inagine how difficult it must be. One day at a time. You can do this. Each 24 hours gets you a day closer. Distract yourself as much as you can, and enjoy extra cuddles with DD before baby arrives. You can do this xxxxx

  8. I’m just so sorry about your brother and the anxiety and the itchiness and the stress… everything. You’ve not had a smooth ride lately and don’t deserve any of this. Big hugs to you. xx

    p.s. That painting is stellar.

  9. Oh Friend, I am so sorry. I wish I could come and give you a big hug and just help in any way that I could. I am so sorry that you can’t be with your family right now when you need each other. I can’t begin to imagine how badly you must want to be with them right now. I’m sending you love, hugs and prayers that everything goes smoothly with your delivery and baby comes out perfect as can be and screaming up a storm!!! Love you!

  10. Wow, girl you are being put to the test right now that is for sure. My deepest sympathies go out to you regarding your brother. I also lost a brother when we were teenagers. Life just is really shitty sometimes I know. I am praying for the safe and soon arrival of your perfect healthy little baby to bring so much love and joy to your lives. Keep your chin up my friend. ❤

  11. Tanya, your baby gives hope to all of us grieving David’s death; new life where now there is dispair. I ache to wrap my arms around her.

  12. Sending love & hugs and keeping you in my thoughts. I feel for you not been able to attend your brothers funeral and be with your family, maybe you will do something at home as a way to say your goodbyes. I hope the time flies to your little one arrives safely in your arms. Your little one will shine light into what has been a dark time for you and your family. The picture your friend painted is perfect, so beautiful. xo

  13. I am so glad you got this print – what a sweet gift with so many other emotions you are dealing with. Can’t wait for you to meet your baby. I hope it’s brings a new joy in the middle of all the tears.

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