Sunday, April 26, 2015


"A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, 
typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome."

Today, as I sat in church, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed with images.  Images of babies of a much earlier gestation than Elisa.  Images of sudden, unexpected deliveries coming out of left field.

I have no idea why.  There was no trigger in anything that was being discussed.  The subject matter was far removed from anything even related.  But all I know is I wanted to just curl up and cry my eyes out and beg and plead as I can NOT do another NICU stay.

I've spent most of this pregnancy pretty much removed, emotionally.  I was surprised when the test came up positive, testing on a whim because I was one day late.  Which, for me, means nothing.  And then, at what I thought was almost 8 weeks pregnant, an ultrasound showed a baby only around 5.5 weeks, almost 2 weeks behind what dates should have been.  On top of that, progesterone was waaaaay to low.  At that point, I resigned myself to the inevitable and waited for the end to start.

Only, it didn't.  2 weeks later, ultrasound showed appropriate growth and progesterone quadrupled to almost 24.

And then...I had to tell.  And in all honesty, I was terrified.  What would people think?  I beat the odds once.  Could I really do it again?  Was I insane to think I could possibly do it again?  Just because Aidan made it to 37 weeks, doesn't mean this one will.  The last pregnancy is more telling of the outcome than the previous, but my risk is no less.  

Truth be told, most of those fears came because it was what I was thinking, not really what I thought anyone else was thinking.

So here I am, 19 weeks and 2 days pregnant and beginning to enter the other most terrifying time for me in a pregnancy.  That time where there will be no attempt to stop labor should it come on.  That time where I cross my fingers, toes, legs, arms that my body will behave.

And pray, beg, plead, whatever it takes to at least make 29 if things go wrong.  Where at least I know what to expect. 

I sure hope whoever is reading this knows, that I want nothing less than 37.  I am counting on nothing less.  But I also know, realistically, that may not happen and in no way am I setting myself up for that.  I am putting my head up high, my shoulders back, believing I will make that 37.  But preparing myself for a curve ball.  I can't bury my head in the sand.

But, the irony of this morning is when we got home.  After the baby was extremely quiet and still all day yesterday, it decided to have a party at quiet time.  I couldn't help but smile and think, this one, and God, was telling me it will all be ok.

I just hope God's "ok" and my "ok" line up this time.


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