My husband has made me promise not to overuse the Doppler. He is right, you know. There is no reason to Doppler the brains out of this baby. I don't like it, but I shouldn't Doppler 3 times a day just because it is cool and I like to hear the baby. We own the Doppler to ease my mind when it requires easing, not to inundate Babe with ultrasonic waves at every opportunity.
Which is why I am excited for today's prenatal appointment - I get to have my doctor Doppler the baby. And that is good. I have felt little flutters all morning, so have no fears of problems and I get to hear a heartbeat this afternoon.
The nightmares have begun - well, technically they have just intensified. Two nights ago, I dreamt I was miscarrying and woke with a terrible pain in my midsection from really having to pee. Last night was about being incapable to breastfeed. A few weeks ago, I was presenting at ER because I knew that the Babe was going to be stillborn if there wasn't intervention and no one would listen to me.
Fortunately, I have been able (thus far) to shake off said dreams. Of course these dreams are going to dog me - I worry in my waking hours, so what do I expect?
As much as I hate to admit this, I am much better equipped to deal with these worries today that I would have been one year ago. I am not saying that I am glad that conception took a full year, I am just saying that things are possibly a little easier at this time. I would trade off this current peace of mind to have this baby already here and in my arms.
I was also thinking about all the of the emotional/spiritual changes that I have experienced since our son's death. About the people that I have met, the insight that I have gained, the empathy that I have developed, the relationship that has grown between the two of us, etc. These are important and beautiful things, and I cherish them. But if I were ever given the opportunity to change that one important fact - my son died - there would be no moments of thought before I said "do it - let him live". I think that most of the women/men who read here would understand what I am trying to say. I hate it when people tell me that these things were the gifts of my son's death, as though I should be grateful that he died, as though these things give meaning to his death. There is no meaning and I am not grateful. What I am grateful for is that I have managed to find some richness in my life despite the fact that he died, not because he died. And I am grateful for the people who have made that possible.
And, my love, the person who makes me better is you.