Big emotional wobble…part 2

I’m sat at my desk at work on Wednesday, having a highly productive morning – glance at the clock 11.34am.

11.34am?

Have I felt her kick this morning?

Did she kick in the car on the way in as usual?

I can’t remember?!

She usually gets up when I get up and starts moving around. In fact I’m pretty sure I haven’t felt her kick at all this morning. That’s not right.

Ring Dan – nothing.

Ring midwife – no answer.

Ring midwife – answer.

I tell her my issue by this point it is 12pm and no movement (after poking my belly  – please wake up – please wake up). She explains that because I am 23 weeks, baby is still very small and might not be very active at this stage. (yes yes I know but she moves all the time, morning noon and night)

Ok.

Would you like to come in to see if I can hear her?

YES! When can I come in?

About 2pm?

Perfect.

So, as you can imagine from 12pm to 2pm I drive home, trying to not think the worst, begging for the little one to move a little. I thought I felt a little quiver in the car journey home but can’t be sure.

— At the clinic – different midwife.

‘It’s very normal for ‘baby’ not to move at 23 weeks, she will get active over the coming few weeks as she gets larger.’

I HAVE FELT HER FOR THE PAST MONTH ALL THE TIME!!!

‘Mmmn-Hmn’

Up on the bed, the young midwife got out the Doppler and puts it high on my stomach. Now knowing that due to my pelvis ‘issues’, bubba feels really low I know that’s not right. But hey, I’m not a professional.

No luck – she tries to the right – no luck.

My breath is held and I pray to hear it soon.

A little bit lower – no luck and now I want to pick it up and put it to where I think she is.

Further down some more and some more and there it is (5th time of trying). The most reassuring noise you will ever hear:

A heartbeat.

Immediately I cry in a state of just raw emotion, my face can’t quite seem to control itself, my chin wobbles, my face is soaked in seconds and my heart is in bits. The midwife’s cool ‘by the book’ exterior softens and she passes me a rough paper towel (the green ones like they had at my primary school). In typical British style and for feeling a bit foolish I mumble: –

‘I’m sorry – so emotional – you just think the worse – oh god what a relief.’

Back home, Dan (also extremely panic struck) and I stand in the kitchen – just hugging – exhausted from the panic but also content in the knowledge all is well she was just having a quiet day.

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