28 weeks: Started from the bottom now we're here

Well, we’ve finally made it to 28 weeks!!! I’ve been dreaming of this milestone since the very beginning of our journey. Back in 2012 when I was placed on strict bedrest with Ligaya starting at 20 weeks, our first goal was to hit 24, which was viability. 28 weeks was gold, but it was so far away, and we knew the odds were not in our favor. I eventually ended up delivering her at exactly 24 weeks.  Our precious Ligaya survived for just a few hours. Those were the darkest days of my life.

Reaching 28 weeks has now brought on a whole range of emotions – relief, gratitude, joy, a growing sense of confidence, guilt, and of course, fear – an endless raging current that fights to be my constant companion at all times. In the beginning, it was the fear of miscarriage. During the 2^nd trimester, I worried about my cervix doing a repeat performance of 2012. And now that I’ve started the 3^rd trimester – well, I just don’t even want to put those thoughts into writing, they’re so terrifying.

You know -  I truly envy those who feel pregnancy is a walk in the damn park and are able to do it over and over again. IN HEELS, EVEN. At my last appointment, I started studying a very pregnant young lady in heels and a tight dress sitting across from me. Since I no longer know how to converse with people in the outside world due to being on modified bed rest for so long with only a diverse group of TV characters as my conversation partners, I was only able to imagine asking her how she was able to feel comfortable in such an outfit. I rage-applaud those who can. As for me, were I to try such a look, one burp or mistimed fart would cause that dress to explode off my body leaving me exposed to all of God's creatures. I'll stick to my fat pants, thank you very much. 

  

Without a doubt, the mental struggle is too real, and for the daily and nightly occurrence of excessive and explosive gas alone, I would strangle Nate, give him CPR, then strangle him again if he casually suggested we should shoot for more. Nope – I’m happy with my girls – one who watches over us from above, and one who will be joining us in about 8 weeks (God and the universe willing).  

Because of all my risk factors, the doctors and I have been working closely together since the start. A number of measures have been put into place to keep things running smoothly (TRANSLATION: I am on a shitload of meds and am at the doctor’s office every single week). One of the things that keeps my body in check is progesterone. The purpose of progesterone is to help my uterus stay relaxed and keep it from contracting too much. See…labor is not an option for me. It would be dangerous due to my previous classical C-section scar and my transabdominal cerclage, which are the permanent bands around my cervix that keep it from crapping out on us too early again. Uterine rupture is NO JOKE.  Anyway, the shot helps me mentally and physically. I’ve been getting one every week since 16 weeks, a nice change from the way I used to get my daily dose of progesterone throughout the 1^st trimester – (adios, vaginal suppositories)

A few weeks ago, Nate came with me to the doctor’s office for my shot. I wanted him to learn how to do it so he could start giving them to me at home. I figured that might save us a few extra visits and didn’t really think it would be a big deal. After all, homie used to be a medic in the Army Reserves over 20 years ago and would practice drawing blood on himself and his friends at the kitchen table. My 17-year old self thought that was SO HOT at the time. The hell?! The Me of today is somewhat confused by the Me of 22 years ago in this regard.  

Now usually when I get the shot, my favorite nurse jams it in my bum, releases the miracle juice slowly, and gives me a little circular rub as a happy ending before sending me on my way. I’d never actually looked at the needle before because it always was so quick and easy. BUT(T) THEN:

Nurse: Ok, you have to switch cheeks every week so she doesn’t get a knot. I put it in this spot here…she has a little scar, so just use that as your guide.

Nate: Wow! You know her butt better than I do. (chuckle chuckle from Mr. McChuckler over there)

Me: OH, I SEE. YOU GOT JOKES. You got jokes now.

Then I turned around and saw it – a cartoonishly large syringe filled with viscous liquid.

Sonofabitch.

And in that very instant, I decided that my husband, with all his nervous energy and his restless leg syndrome way of life, would never be getting anywhere near me with that thing. Add that to the list of things Nate will never get to stick in my butt.  

So that was that. He does continue to support me in other more important ways, though – mainly by burping me every night like a 200 lb baby.

Ahhh, 28 weeks! Baby girl is doing so well and is almost 3lbs. She doesn’t let us see her face as often as we’d like in her ultrasound pictures, but we have a lot of shots of her little feet. I love her so much.

One day at a time we continue to knock out the weeks.  We are so close. I can almost picture myself crossing the finish line with arms outstretched to carry our baby girl home. That is the biggest hope and wish of my heart.

The wait is down to single digits now, Sweetest Pea. Hang in there. 

Well, it just wouldn't be the same without our awkward selfie of the week