Yesterday was kind of a rough day for me. Its the day I believe I lost Speck one year ago. I miscarried him a week later but yesterday was when all my symptoms disappeared and I had called my doctor in a state of panic telling her I felt the baby died. She dismissed it telling me symptoms can vanish with time. Later I dealt with a lot of anger at this dismissal though today I realize that even if she had taken me seriously, nothing could have been done to prevent the outcome.
I'm not sure what came over Sunflower yesterday but he decided yesterday was a great day to go from squirmy pokey jumpy baby into a hibernating bear. He just stopped moving. He has his on days and off days so for most of the day I thought nothing of it until later in the evening when I realized I hadn't really felt him move all day. So, I tried the usual things that get him moving, I poked him, drank cold water, jiggled my belly- nothing. Nothing. Before going to bed I listened to him on the cheapo doppler I bought and haven't used in weeks. I could hear a heartbeat but it sounded faint and in the 130's. Still- I told myself it was him and all was well. But I couldn't sleep well. I kept waking up, poking, pressing, prodding- nothing.
I finally couldn't take it anymore and around 3am I went downstairs to the fridge and pulled out a sickeningly sweet pineapple drink that as a diabetic I know I shouldn't drink but I felt desperate to feel the kid move so I drank half a glass and then half a glass of ice water. I went upstairs and lay down, waiting for something- and again- nothing. I stared at the clock it was 3:15. I felt rage building in me as tears slid down my face. I felt angry. Angry that it had to be today of all days that he grew quiet. Angry that I had to worry about whether he was alive or not. Angry that there are pregnant women right now who don't think bad things can happen to them and don't live with this type of fear. I looked at the crib, the glider, thought of all his onesies and Jack who had urged me not to buy so much until we were sure. And when would I be sure? I wondered. After child birth? After the SIDS danger zone passed? Or was it too late? I felt the anger might choke me as I pressed my hand on my quiet belly.
Jack woke up. He was equally concerned. We lay there discussing what to do. The heartbeat was there but should we still call the doctor? Five minutes later a gentle poke. Then another. In total about ten gentle taps and then silence.
Today he's back to his usual schedule. He's practicing his hula-hooping or whatever it is he does in there and turning my grateful womb into his punching bag. I'm not sure if I fell into a tailspin because he fell silent on the anniversary of my loss but I know that I am now officially staring at a kettle, waiting for it to boil- and well, we all know how that goes.