Paranoia?

I'm sure, based on my history, this is totally normal. Totally understandable and totally expected. But damn! I possibly have another 10 weeks of this? I will be 30 weeks on Friday. Thumper is getting bigger and probably going to start running out of room soon. I get that. I understand that I will feel less strong movements. I get that I will feel less intense kicks and more jabs or rolls. That doesn't mean I won't worry about it.

When I was pregnant with Benjamin I told my midwife numerous times that he wasn't as active as I thought he should be. 'Every pregnancy is different' 'every baby is different' 'Jackson was a very active baby, this baby is just more relaxed'. Blah blah blah. I knew all of this. I told myself all of this too. I'm sure it was all true. I'm sure that's all it was. There was no reason to think that Benjamin would one day just stop moving all together. He was active and 'normal' right up until the day he died. There was no way to know that his life was in danger. Easy to tell myself that, not so easy to believe it.

A few times a day I find myself wondering if Thumper is as active as she 'should' be. If I haven't felt much movement for a while I almost convince myself that she is dead. It's a horrible thing to do, but it happens just the same. If she's not moving very much, or if she isn't kicking strongly I convince myself it's because she's weak from poor blood flow. I have no reason to think that her blood isn't flowing properly. No reason to think that there is anything wrong. But then again, I didn't last time either.

Ten weeks of this left. Ten weeks. Ten weeks to wonder if today is going to be the day. Will I wake up and realize that she hasn't been moving? Will I wonder when the last time she moved was? Will I have to face that nightmare again? As gut wrenching as it is, at least I know now that I could handle it. Plus I'm prepared for it this time. How sad is that? How sad is it that I am prepared to find out my baby has died? Where is the blissful naivity of my first pregnancy? Or hell, even my second pregnancy? It makes me sad (and mad) to know that Thumper doesn't get that. She doesn't get the excitement and joy that her mommy should feel when she thinks about the day she will be born. Instead she gets doubt and guarded optimism (as fake as it sometimes feels). She gets a closet full of clothes and diapers hidden from view, just in case the worst happens again. Better to have it all hidden away so that reminder doesn't smack me in the face when I come home with an empty womb and even emptier arms.

She doesn't deserve this. She deserves to be celebrated and joyously looked forward to. She deserves all the love and excitement that both her brothers got. I just wish I could whole-heartedly give it to her. I wish that I could look to October and actually imagine her in my arms, alive and screaming.

On another depressing note... July 11th passed by without a single tear. July 18th did not. I was on vacation, visiting family for the past few weeks. On July 11th I was at my parents cottage, having a nice day. It never dawned on me that Benjamin would have been 8 months old that day. I didn't acknowledge his monthly birthday. I didn't spend part of the day thinking about what should have been. I didn't mourn him. And when I realized that on July 18th, a full week later, I was horrified. How could I have not realized it? How could I have let the day pass without thinking about him every minute? I felt like I had let him down, like I didn't care enough. Like I wasn't mourning him properly. I know it's irrational, but I could not stop myself from thinking those thoughts. I still feel guilty and sad about that.