I feel like I’ve spent most of the last week staring into space with my mind going a million miles an hour trying to make sense of reality. I’m pregnant with three fetuses. My thoughts range anywhere from abject fear that takes my breath away, to wondering if I can mentally survive months of bedrest, to wondering whether or not I should reduce, to thinking about how I would afford 3 college educations, to thinking about adding on to my small home, to literally shaking because I don’t know if I could survive losing 3 more children as I lost my Sweet Pea. I’ve cried more times than I can count. I’ve smiled more times than I can count. I thought I might be having a nervous breakdown there for awhile but slowly the reality is sinking in and thoughts are a tiny bit slower. I’m pregnant with three babies. It’s so close to and so far from what I’ve been working so hard for for so long and what I’ve always wanted.
I had a 7 week ultrasound yesterday and all three Sparks are doing well. It took the tech a while to find them which, of course, made me panic. They are each measuring a day or two behind schedule but the doctor says she’s more than satisfied with their growth and heartbeat. We rehashed a lot of the same info she gave me last week since my stunned brain wasn’t taking in much after thinking I had lost the pregnancy then finding out all three were there. I told her she should publish an article about me…she hesitated and then laughed but in a way that made me think she’s already writing the rough draft. The next step is to choose a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor. It’s between a guy that specializes in “higher order multiples” (Dr. Micheal Paul at MoBap..anyone?) or one that is at a hospital with a level 3 NICU (Dr. Alison Cahill at Barnes…anyone?).
I’ve decided the only way I will mentally and emotionally survive the whirlwind that is going on is to simply take it a week at a time. Just get through this week and don’t worry about what may happen down the road. This works about 60% of the time…the rest of the time I vacillate wildly between being crazy, over the moon happy and being scared out of my mind.
I’m scared to death that if I choose not to selectively reduce that I will lose them all. I couldn’t even get a singleton here safely, what chance do three have? I’m scared that if I somehow do manage to give birth to all three, that I won’t be able to keep them safe, especially while they are small. Remember, I’m single and completely on my own here. Yes, I have wonderful family and friends who would do anything for us but I can’t lean on others forever and ultimately I would be on my own with three small children. I keep imagining a moment I think most parents (and me as an aunt) have experienced when the child runs away from you in public. You run a few steps and are able to grab them. Then I picture myself with three running in different directions.
Don’t even get me started on the financial part. I’m a teacher with one income. I keep thinking and thinking trying to figure out how in the world I would pay for daycare and insurance for three children not to mention the millions of other material things we would need.
But then there are times when I’m laying in bed and just cherishing every moment of that full feeling in my uterus. I walk around school and spin white lie after white lie about why I can’t do this or that activity but inside I know I have a secret and I can’t wait to tell everyone. Those times when I smell something and I smile because I know the pregnancy super schnozz is at work. When I see those hearts beating I’m in awe of the miracle inside me. I’m truly enjoying this stage of pregnancy with every fiber of my being.
God, how I want to give them all a chance I’m just so terrified that they won’t make it here to me alive. Terrified isn’t even a big enough word for it. The triplet moms who commented have all seemed to have good outcomes and that is wonderful but I know there’s an aggregation of moms I’m not hearing from…those who ended up with children in Heaven like my Greyson. I’m also frustrated because most of the blogs I see are more scrapbooks of the good times which is so great to read and I understand wanting to do that but they don’t tell the real story I know must be out there about the awful side of no sleep and no money and poop everywhere and constant crying and never being able to take them anywhere by yourself and being completely drained emotionally and physically…tapped out in all possible ways. I wonder if I could take that. But once in a while I read something on the internet that gives me a bit of hope and slowly a vision is taking place for what could be…how maybe it could work out.
Thank you everyone for all the support in the comments. I love you guys. And keep the prayers coming, people…I need the powers of the full blogosphere here.