22 weeks, and a whinge

Yesterday we clocked over to 22 weeks.

On Thursday my doctor gave me three more pathology forms, for three more out patient anti natal visits, and said Id be going in to hospital after that, which puts the date around the 18th of October. We had asked to bring forward the meeting with the neonatologists by one week, just because I feel like I need time to digest the information before having to make any big decisions. Unfortunately, my dr told me that we wouldn’t be seeing he neonatologists for another 2 weeks, a week after we were initially told it would be, and two weeks after I had wanted it.

On Friday, I had a meltdown. Two things were bugging me. That my wishes were ignored completely about seeing the neonatologist early, and that my doctor didn’t seem to have the time to talk about it with me. And that made me cranky about something else. In the three weeks since I was told that one of my babies had died, nobody from the hospital had said anything to me about counseling, or even talking to someone about how I felt. Granted, I didn’t want it at the time, and I’m not sure I want it now, but if the same thing happened to one of my loved ones, I’d want to think that there was some service offered to them. The death of a baby at such a late gestation is a big thing to most mums, and I find it quite shocking that I was just sent home with no resources at all.

So I decided to call the perinatal support team, and just mention my concerns. I wasn’t about to kick up a stink, but if there is something I feel strongly about, its using my strength to make things easier for others.

I rang the pager number that was given to me by the team leader a few weeks ago, but she was on an RDO. The call was answered by a very lovely woman, but it wasn’t Susan, and I wasn’t in a fit state to explain my case from he beginning, so I tried to ring off and say that I would call back on Monday. But she wasn’t having that and was quite insistent that she could help me, so eventually I started to tell her my story.

And I lost it. I completely broke down on the phone to this stranger. And since I haven’t cried for a long, long time, I just couldn’t stop the tears from coming. Eventually I explained about the NICU visit, and she promised to arrange it for me, but I just had to get off the phone quickly, and I’ll deal with the other issue later.

Quite honestly, this situation is taking a toll. Each day seems harder than the one before, and every hospital visit seems like an unbearable force bearing down on me, its almost all I can do to put one foot in front of the other to get myself through the front door. Previously, I’ve been able to stumble through it all with a smile on my face, and to crack jokes, and see he lighter side (though how, I am not so sure).

And from now on, its only going to get harder. As this baby gets closer to viability, the stakes get higher every day. And now that we know we have a little boy, its hard not to think of names, to think of the future, to think about what a lovely big brother this baby is going to have. But still, that future is as tenuous as ever, and despite being 7 weeks into the journey, the end of the road seems further away than ever.