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Despite a constant nagging that something was wrong, I had a pretty normal pregnancy. Everything that worried me turned out to be nothing. I thought it was a tubal pregnancy. My 20-week ultrasound showed concerns about the baby’s stomach. I was completely convinced I had gestational diabetes. I am a worrier and everything seemed like a major concern. My midwife even commented at pretty much every appointment that I just looked worried.
I worried about everything. Those last few weeks I had a new major concern everyday. I worried about my Athlete’s foot spreading, about every twinge of pain, that I had infections, and that I must have contracted whatever crazy disease came across my news feed. I’m not usually a hypochondriac. There was just something about this pregnancy. It was to the point where one day I was convinced something was wrong with my baby’s legs because I didn’t feel kicks in my rib cage like I did with my first.
So when I felt decreased movement the day I hit 36 weeks, I tried to convince myself it was another irrational worry. The first day I thought he might be having a lazy day. The second day I did kick counts every few hours. By the third day I basically laid around drinking whatever sugary or cold drink we had in the house while my toddler played and watched TV and I focused on every single movement.
I will say that he always passed kick counts. At least, what I knew to expect from kick counts. Most of the time he moved 10 times in 30 minutes. Sometimes it took an hour to get to 10. It would calm me down for a half hour or so, and the worry would set in again.
I went back and forth on going in to labor and delivery. I thought about calling my midwife but knew I couldn’t really get an answer over the phone. My husband works long hours and I very rarely had my toddler babysat. I didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t want to make a fuss for nothing. I really tried to convince myself everything was fine.
I felt I should have gone in that third day and wonder what might have been different if I had. My baby kicked, but the kicks were weaker than normal. I tried to reassure myself that he was running out of room. I remember telling my husband my stomach felt like dead weight.
When my husband got home on the fourth day, I headed to labor and delivery. I still felt silly about worrying, but I had to get some peace of mind. As I drove to the hospital I felt a little movement. I was relieved. I remember thinking that at least he was alive then. That they would be able to save him if something was wrong.
I got checked in and all hooked up to the monitors. You know, the ones that wrap around your belly and slide off all the time. I wasn’t having contractions and the main concern was the fetal heart rate. His heart rate was steady, which sounds good, but it’s not.
He didn’t have decelerations, but he also didn’t have any accelerations. The nurse vibrated my stomach several times to get him to move. It only barely worked once.
I was surprised they wanted a urine sample. I thought it was unnecessary, but I peed in the cup. I get pretty good at that when I’m pregnant, but those monitors they wrap around your belly have to go with you. The long cords are a pain in the butt.
The results were normal.
I was starting to feel better about everything, despite the heart rate being a little concerning. My midwife ordered an ultrasound. Again, I was surprised, but I am so glad we did one.
My baby was “practice breathing” and everything looked good except my amniotic fluid. The tech couldn’t find any pockets bigger than a 3. I was brought lots of water and juice, and we waited to hear the next step.
I was worried but felt justified for going in. After several hours the specialists requested that I come back the next day for monitoring. I was told to drink a lot to increase amniotic fluid. I thought it seemed soon to come back, but I went home feeling so much better knowing I would be back the next day. I stayed up late drinking till I was sick of water. The knot in my stomach had gone away. I felt like everything would be fine after that. I didn’t expect everything that came next.
I returned to the hospital 12 hours later with amniotic fluid down to 1, some fetal heart rate decelerations, and high blood pressure, which was probably from the stress.
I was induced and ended up with an unplanned c-section. My baby was 4 pounds and spent 39 days in the NICU in three different hospitals before coming home on a g-tube.
I don’t know how different things would have been if I had gone in three days sooner, but I know things could have been devastating had I waited any longer. I have a feeling I will go in for decreased movement several times during future pregnancies, and I won’t feel one bit silly about it.
When I was going back and forth on whether I should go in, I read stories online. Some were reassuring. Some were terrifying. Basically, you can find information to support just about anything you want. Here’s my advice: if you have any doubt at all that things are okay, get checked out. It’s worth it. You have no other way of knowing what is going on. I wish I’d had more confidence. I wish I’d listened to my gut and gone in sooner. I am so thankful my little boy is here with us. And I’ve learned my lesson.
