April 22 – It feels like my heart is breaking. I don't know what is going on with this baby. I talk to him constantly. Come on little guy. Mommy is rooting for you and doing everything she can to help you grow to be big and strong. Can you hear me?
More out of exasperation than a need to share information, I tell FOB everything that is going on with the baby. We're in bed, flat on our backs and I stare up at the ceiling as I rattle off the stats. My voice is monotone. I might as well be reading the weather in Ottawa. No heart beat and we are watching the hCG. I explain if it drops or plateaus then the pregnancy is ending. He doesn’t say much. I’m not sure how it lands on him. I tell him, I’m not as worried since we NEVER heard the heart beat. I’d be more worried if we had heard it and then it stopped. Maybe the timing is wrong? I’m just not ready to fully grasp that this baby, MY BABY, is not viable.
I stop talking when I hear my voice start to warble. Must not cry. Stiff upper lip we've got a long row to plow.
I have no idea how FOB feels about this baby. I remember his words "it's not on my bucket list" and that is enough to keep me from asking any further. That's pretty fucking clear, no?
I was raised without a father and I raised my first born without a father. Babies don't have to have fathers. Obviously it is nice if they have them, but I learned very early in life, what is nice and what actually happens are two very different things.
I have other things to worry about, like researching home birth and local care providers. I also have to mentally prepare myself for a child that might have special needs. There is an increased risk of that due to my age. Of course these are all distractions.
In truth, I only have one worry in the world. Will this baby make it to see the light of day?