A first-person account of anxiety, early contractions, and holding a family together when money, language, and time are against you. Raw, urgent, human.
As the time gets closer, contractions start to build. There is panic at each one. My heart skips, my chest tightens, and I try to read her face for clues. I’m in uncharted territory. After the seventh month of pregnancy, my wife had gone back to Mexico with our unborn child, and I lost the day-to-day understanding of what she went through during that time. I wasn’t there to see the subtle changes, the slow buildup, the moments where she might have been silently struggling.
Now I’m here in Mexico, and I’m trying to catch up on months I couldn’t get back. Bed rest for her was going to be for a month upon her return to Mexico, but back then she tried to do too much. She’s always been strong, too strong for her own good sometimes, and now, even when her body is asking her to slow down, she pushes ahead. I watch her move through our hole-in-the-wall store, carrying more than she should, refusing to sit for long. I want to tell her to stop, to rest, but I know it’s not in her nature to be still.
I step in when I can. I carry the heavier boxes, try to take over the counter when she looks tired, remind her to sit down. But she waves me off more often than not. I want to tell her to stop, to really rest, yet I know it’s not in her nature to be still. And here I am, trying to balance helping her without making her feel helpless.
The stress of wondering if the baby will be born early never leaves my mind. Her body, or maybe the baby, is already wanting to be born. I don’t know which. I have to trust my wife’s judgment in how she feels. On the inside, I’m panicking. On the outside, I try to stay calm. But the truth is, I’m flipping out.
Will I be ready? No money. No job. Will I be able to handle a preemie baby? Will I even be ready to handle a full-term baby? Diapers, food, clothing, bedding. everything is needed, and none of it I can afford. I sat on my hands for far too long, and now my wife is paying the price. She works so hard in our little store that she’s having early contractions. I still don’t know the language enough to get by on my own. I’m trying, but in my head all I hear is, “not good enough”.
The doctor says she needs eight days of bed rest and medicine that comes at a great cost. I want to pull my hair out. I want to scream. But I stay silent. She doesn’t need the weight of my panic on top of everything else. “How? How? How can I make things better?”
At first, I thought the contractions were normal. I did some research, and it seemed they could happen more often as pregnancy progressed. But while she was out, they started coming every 15 minutes. I found out after her appointment that it was anything but normal. More serious than I thought. What do I do?
Then came a moment of peace. The 3D imaging showed our baby’s face, clearer than ever before. For now, the cord is wrapped around the neck once. My youngest daughter had hers wrapped three times. I hope this baby stays the full 40 weeks. They say the baby is measuring two weeks ahead in size and weight. I don’t want to lose my wife or my child.
Braxton Hicks gave way to actual contractions. The saving grace is no dilation. I thought maybe I had 60 days left. Maybe I’m wrong. If the baby comes early, that’s a whole new set of problems.
Time is of the essence, but will anybody listen? I wonder if my story will be heard. I’m doing everything I can to post, but is it enough? Here I sit at 1 a.m., trying to get this blog written. The podcast will come out, but will anyone listen?
The question “Am I too late?” still rings loud in my head. I did nothing until a month ago. Now my wife needs medicine we can’t afford. The baby needs clothing and diapers. Am I too late to make a difference for our future?
I keep asking if my 90-day challenge will collapse under its own weight. I’m pushing, but maybe not hard enough. I want this baby to be healthy, but I’m nervous just looking in the direction of where I need to be.
So many questions and so little time. I can’t have all the answers I want, but I know I need to do better.
My wife needs me, but how can I be there? I need to cook, but I’ve never been shown how to make their food. I need to clean, give her attention, and step into her roles while she rests. I don’t know how long she’ll need bed rest, but I have to be ready.
Being on the podcast is just scratching the surface. To make a difference, I need faster results. Every podcast can take weeks or months to release. I need help now. A baby bed is needed, and I have no money.
I tell myself I need to dig deep, but I’m distracted easily. My wife is home, and I should be catering to her needs, but I scroll TikTok too much. I try to make content, try to gain traction, and I wonder if I’m just spinning my wheels. Sixty days isn’t enough to make a difference.
Life can change at breakneck speed. It can go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. I don’t like to think about it, but the possibility is there. At the same time, it can swing the other way. Maybe someone will hear my story and reach out. I’m not counting on it, but it would be nice to see something good happen.
Will she go full term? God, I hope so. It won’t help anyone if she delivers early. I hope she makes it to 40 weeks, but her age and anemia could shatter those hopes. As long as they’re both healthy, that’s what matters.
I want so much more, but I’m afraid of losing my wife, my child, or both. My focus should be entirely on them, but I’m still trying to make moves even though it’s not paying off right now. I need all eyes on this.
Are my actions justified? I won’t know until it’s too late. I hope what I’m doing will bear fruit. I have to believe it will.