Tomorrow will be 35 weeks. But tomorrow Davie Ann gets tubes in her ears, so I think that will trump any incubation news.
Not much new to report on that front, anyways. His movements are smaller (must be getting crowded in there), but reassuringly regular. Sleep has gotten more difficult – it’s almost exhausting trying to sleep. I can only lie on my side, and my hips and lower back give me at most two hours before the pain wakes me up and I begin the arduous process of rolling over. My bladder is the same – I get about two hours at a time before I have to go again – but it’s not necessarily synched up with the hip/back pain. That would be way too convenient. I’ve also picked up a symptom I had with Davie – my fingers, hands, wrists and sometimes my whole arm will go numb. Usually the arm I’m lying on when I’m on my side. That wakes me up pretty quickly. It’s weird to wake up and not be able to use my fingers for a minute or two.
If all that wasn’t enough to keep me awake, pregnancy-induced insomnia has made for some interesting late night moments. It’s so strange to wake up at 2am and not be able to fall back asleep for an hour or two. My mind is tired, but it’s busy. My body is exhausted, but twitchy and achy. Usually a hot bath helps a lot.
But all of this is temporary, passing, and insignificant. Despite the symptoms and all appearances, it doesn’t seem real that I’m growing a human being. You’d think since we have a daughter I’d be able to wrap my mind around it all. But it still doesn’t seem like there will be another person in our home at the end of this. How could we be that lucky, that blessed? Who are we to have our prayers answered – not once, but twice?
In these final weeks, I’m feeling more emotion, more nostalgia. I’m not afraid like I was with Davie. I feel the reassurance of his movements, I know what the aches and pains are, so I’m not scared every day that he’s gone. Even with the discomforts I’m enjoying being pregnant. Being capable of being pregnant. I am lucky.
And there is the knowledge that this is the last time. I’ll never be pregnant again. I’ll never feel life move inside me. I’ll never carry my baby around with me everywhere I go. In less than two months, we’ll be two separate beings forever. I’ll never be so completely enmeshed in another again.
There are so many reasons I’ll never be pregnant again. This pregnancy was brutal for a long time. The hyperemesis gravidarum is hard to explain … it consumed my entire being, physically and mentally. It was hard on my family, my husband and my daughter. To be pregnant again would mean leaving this baby behind, too. It wreaked havoc on my work relationships and our finances. Not to mention the obvious – I’m already 42. If I get to breast feed, it’ll be at least a year before we can try again, and it took us 3 1/2 years to get Davie and another 2 years for this one. I don’t know if this old body can handle a pregnancy at 44 or 45! And even if we were lucky – how frickin’ old will I be when that last kid graduates?!?
Not to mention, our fertility insurance coverage is all gone. Only … suddenly, it’s back. Troy’s insurance is making another global policy change, from United to a version of BCBS, so everyone starts over from scratch. It’s not as great – it’s a lifetime maximum of $15,000. Just one try for us. With ICSI, a fresh cycle costs us about $12,000 a pop. And with eggs like mine, it’s unlikely we would produce a viable fetus.
But it does put embryo donation back on the table. I like the idea of being to carry our adopted baby. And we still feel a pull in our hearts toward adoption, although all of our focus was on foster-to-adopt. But the truth is, it’s rare to be able to adopt an infant through the foster system. Much more common is heartache and loss. I understand, I really do, that the true purpose of fostering is to facilitate a reunion between child and parents. I have to admit, my heart isn’t in that. I want our child to stay with us forever. And of course I worry that our extended families may not love and accept our adopted child(ren) as they do our biological ones.
Maybe it’s time to “resolve.” Time to appreciate the two we are blessed with and not ask for more. I feel a pull towards that peace. To know our journey to grow our family is forever complete, to fully revel in what we have, to let go finally of the heartache of the journey (whether through IF treatments or adoption). I think this is where Troy is, and I want to respect him.
As this pregnancy draws near to the end, I am so excited to meet this new person who will change our lives. I can’t imagine ever being as deeply immersed in and in love with another human being as we are with Davie Ann. I know it all changes when they come, the love grows, it just doesn’t seem imaginable now. I also find myself grieving the ones we lost along the way. From our first miscarriage before we got pregnant with Davie ’til this very pregnancy where we lost a twin at 8 weeks – or even the other two embryos that didn’t take at all; whether it simply wasn’t God’s time, or my body failed them, or my eggs were too old … whatever the reason, they were wanted and loved. I hope they know, I hope they know.
This is long and rambling with no real resolution. I think I’m just in a process, evolving. To the next step, whatever it may be. And whatever it is, may it bring peace.