Safe?

Dear Elliot,
You'd think that the further past the point of 'viability' I got, the less and less nervous I'd become. Turns out that's not the case at all. Now that I'm 29 weeks pregnant, and the odds of you being able to survive and thrive outside of my body are very high, I am getting more and more anxious. The sane, logical part of me wants you to stay inside my womb for as long as possible, because I know its what's best for you. But the other part of me--the scared mama whose first baby died inside of her--that part of me just wants you out right now.

Now before anyone starts lecturing me about how awful I am to wish my baby to be born prematurely, I don't actually want that (obviously, I hope!). But I can't help but wonder: if you were born today, would you be safer? Would it be saving you from your sister's fate?

A woman's body is supposed to be the safest, most perfect place for a baby to be. But my body failed your sister. I feel like my body is a dangerous, scary place; that it's a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode once again. While you're in my womb, I have no real control over what happens to you. I mean yes, I can take care of myself, take my shots and my pills, eat my protein and veggies, and hope for the best, but I can't see you, watch you, monitor you 24/7 to make sure you are okay.

At 29 weeks (measuring more like 32 weeks), and well over three pounds, you'd more than likely spend a couple months in the NICU and have no major long-term complications if you were born right now. On the outside, we'd be able to watch you so closely, ready to step in at the first sign of any type of distress. Of course I'm not saying having a baby in the NICU would be easy (at all!), or that I want that for you, but I'd take that over losing you inside of me in a heartbeat.

I just want you to be safe, and I hate myself sometimes for feeling like I can't provide that for you.

It's been a hard couple days (I swear, every time I start feeling really confident, these kind of thoughts swiftly follow). We're getting so close I can almost taste it, and I'm just so terrified we won't quite get there again. I've been waiting to look into my child's eyes for over two years now (since I found out I was pregnant with Stevie). I know waiting just nine more weeks shouldn't be all that difficult. But those nine weeks are feeling like an eternity right about now.

Please just continue to be okay, baby boy. I want you, I need you, I love you. So much.

Always,
Mom