Last night marked 3 years since I last felt Little Man move. Bear, my sister Hoodie and I had been out all day looking at things we would need for Little Man's arrival. I was 22weeks5days and we still hadn't gotten anything. We looked at cribs, car seats, strollers, etc (we didn't buy anything). It was 6:30 p.m. and we were enjoying the furniture section of the final store. We were quietly talking amongst each other when I felt one tiny kick from Little Man.
When I felt him kick, I was hyper-aware of every move he made for the rest of the night. I wanted Hoddie to feel him kick for the first time. I silently begged him to move harder and for his movements to last longer. I didn't feel him move for the rest of the shopping trip. Nor did I feel him move on the hour long drive home.
I was anxious to get home that night because Little Man always moved around the most as I got ready for bed. I begged him once again to move, kick, roll, ANYTHING to let me know he was ok. I went to bed with silent tears because I STILL hadn't felt him move. I laid in bed for what seemed like hours KNOWING something was wrong before falling asleep.
Early the next morning I got up with Bear and got him ready for work. I still hadn't felt Little Man move and still had an overwhelming feeling something was wrong. My Mother-Heart was SCREAMING at me "Something is wrong with Little Man! DO SOMETHING!! Something is wrong with Little Man!!! PLEASE DO SOMETHING!!!!". I immediately got on the phone with my midwife and told her what was going on. She told me "babies at this stage can go days without you feeling them move. Everything is fine." I still felt wrong.
I called my Mom and asked her what I should do (since she would be more of an expert than I was). She told me basically the same thing that my mid-wife did... "everything is fine. QUITE WORRYING". I still felt wrong. My Mother-Heart was SCREAMING even louder and with more urgency. I spent the rest of the day in tears, begging for Little Man to move. Praying to God that everything would be ok. I called my mid-wife and mom back. They told me the same thing as before. I spent days in a complete panic, KNOWING something was wrong, but with too many people (other people besides my mid-wife and mom also told me not to worry, that it was normal).
I became completely convinced that something was wrong when I was able to eat apple pie on Bear's birthday the next day. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE apple pie, unfortunately apples were the first (of MANY) things Little Man let me know he did not like (starting at less than 6weeks). The sight, smell, taste or thought of anything apple had me begging to throw-up. My in-laws came over for Bear's birthday and brought an apple pie (we are not much into cakes but we LOVE pie). I saw the pie and was able to eat it and felt fine. I din't have any of the nauseated feeling I had had for the past 18 weeks. That was the last straw!!!! I called my mid-wife the next morning and demanded that she see me. She said she couldn't see me because it was the weekend but I could come in first thing Monday morning and she was check me out.
I can think of a hundred excuses on why I didn't go to the ER that first night or early the next morning. They all seemed legitimate at the time. I wished I would have known back then what my life is like right now because I ignored what I KNEW to be true. I changed so many lives forever because I didn't go in when I KNEW something was wrong. I don't know if I would have saved him if I had gone in. I don't know if he would have been born alive, if he would have ever made it out of NICU. If he did make it out of NICU, I don't know how his quality of life would have been (personally I wouldn't care, I would have taken him in any way he came). I just don't know what would've happened.
All I DO know is if that if I would've gone right in, I would have the knowledge that I did my utmost best for Little Man as a mother. I wouldn't have so much guilt for failing Little Man and so many other people. I wouldn't have been calling myself a murderer for so long. I wouldn't believe I was the worse mother in the world and that I didn't deserve a child.
Over the years I have come to an understanding that IT WAS NOT MY FAULT (or anyone else's). That there was NOTHING I could have done to have saved him. I know now that I LOVE my son and that I was THE BEST mom to him. NO ONE LOVED HIM MORE!!!!! NO ONE could have been a better mother to him than I was. NO ONE would have gotten a different outcome than I did.
IT...JUST...HAPPENED!!!!!! It wasn't anybody's fault. Nothing would have made him stay. I bet if I were able to spend time with Little Man right now, he wouldn't blame me for a moment. He would run to me, give me a huge hug, tell me that he loves me and thank-me for the love I gave him.
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