Week 28 is much different from week 6 or 7 or even 10. I found out I was pregnant almost 4 weeks in. I had it confirmed at 6 weeks, 4 days. From the very beginning I was somewhere between disbelief and shock and the conviction that it wouldnt last. Sure I might be pregnant, despite all odds, but there was not way it would stick. This was just one of those fluke things that happen. When I took the test, the first 4 times, I was convinced that it was false positives. Then the last three times I convinced myself it was cancer, or a tumor or a tubal pregnancy. I wasn’t supposed to even be able to have babies. I certainly wasn’t in a place in my relationship where that was a particularly bright idea….and furthermore I was having a lot less sex than any other point in the last five years. WTF!! That thought actually had a running loop in my head.
Anyways I went to the doctor for the confirmation ultrasound and from the beginning I told the tech that it was probably cancer…or a tumor…or a tubal pregnancy. Turns out is was a very normal, very healthy little blip who turned out to be rather tenacious. I got through that appointment with a ton of sample vitamins and a lot of shock to process and a picture of a blip that resembled a Lima bean that they reassured me was a tiny human. Even then I figured there was no way this was a thing that would stick. People like me don’t get good things like that. We get tempted with them and then they get taken away. Cynical I know but that’s been a pretty common theme in my life. Don’t ever get too comfortable and happy cause someone will inevitably come and take it away. A friend of mine lost a baby at week 10 right around the time I found out I was pregnant so I had already resigned myself to that in my mind. I looked up tons of statistics, researched what was normal and what was not and tried to soldier on the best I could.
Then week 10 past, we had another appointment, the baby was fine. Time seemed to pass slowly then, but eventually I made it into the second trimester. I was still unconvinced I would carry to term. I pretty much expected disaster. Never the less I began to plan for life with a baby. Maternity leave, clothing, food, breastfeeding, baby classes, more doctors visits, breast pumps…all of that came up at one point or another. I am fairly certain I didn’t start to let go of the idea that something terrible would happen until week 20 or so after we found out the gender and started calling him by his name. People think that is odd, but to me he is a tiny human that just happens to reside inside me at the moment.
Fast forward quite a bit and we get to week 28. Not much eventful happens here. Braxton Hicks contractions are a thing. The hospital bag is a thing. Nausea is back. My back is killing me. Everything is sore. That is pretty much what week 28 looks like. I have found that as time passes the actual week is less important and the impending sense of the end is nigh.