BP was 170+/117 this morning. The nurse mentioned the word “delivery” again and I just lost it. But the doctor came in later and said they’re going to put me on meds to lower my BP and see how that works; also do another 24-hour urine test. She explained that one of the dangers of the high BP is possible placental abruption. But she seemed optimistic that the meds (starting with a low dose) would help.
I feel so alone. T. is still in DC for work, although he’s coming back today. My sister is coming, but not until Sunday. I just want my mom, and she’s not only in Peru but out in a rural area where there are no phones. I know there are people around here who love me – my favorite aunt and uncle came by last night, with my cousin and his daughter. It was *wonderful* to see them. Why is it so hard for me to ask for anything from other people?
No matter how many times they tell me that this isn’t my fault, that nothing I did caused this and nothing I could have done would have prevented it, I don’t believe them. I know at the bottom of my heart that this is my fault. I have already failed. I keep telling my baby over and over that I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
On Monday the doctor told me that I need to stop trying to take responsibility for the whole world, that I need to stop being so hard on myself. It was almost uncanny how quickly she sized me up (it was the first time I’d met this particular doctor). But it is so hard to change a lifetime of mental habits overnight.
On the bright side, today the doctor didn’t say the D-word. She said I’m not actually pre-eclamptic, but cleary have hypertension and that’s what they’re going to treat. And the baby is still doing great; seems happy and hearty and completely fine. So we’re going to try to keep it that way.