Processing

"A person that loses a partner is called a widow. A child who loses a parent is called an orphan. But there is no word to describe a parent who loses a child, because that loss is like no other. So will you put this as your status for just 1 hour, I'm pretty sure I know the ones that will. Think of someone you know or love whose lost a baby or child, & take a few minutes to remember & honor their beautiful angels. "

Tonight, I am filled with conflicting emotions.

On the one hand I am excited. I'm 36 weeks. One week from term. My section is officially on the books for Dec 22. Since my regular ob is also pregnant but a week ahead of me, she won't be delivering me, so I saw the ob who will today. And she is not opposed to the plan we had worked out. I received my last p17. It is so hard to believe that at the most, three weeks from today, this little one will be here. I've reached milestone after milestone. 9 months pregnant. One week from term. And it seems I'll be getting that 39 weeker.

Every pregnancy is different, they say. But this one is the polar opposite of Elisa's.

At 36 weeks:

Your baby is gaining about an ounce a day. She now weighs almost 6 pounds (like a crenshaw melon) and is more than 18 1/2 inches long. She's shedding most of the downy hair that covered her body, as well as the vernix caseosa, the waxy substance that protected her skin during her nine-month amniotic bath. Next week, your baby will be considered full-term. Most likely she's in a head-down position, but if she isn't, your practitioner may suggest scheduling an external cephalic version, where she'll try to turn your baby by manipulating her from the outside of your belly.

Imagine that. A child of mine actually arriving in the month it was due. Now...this baby will officially have a December birthday. Amazing.

But I said I was filled with conflicting emotions. And that is because I am also surrounded by unspeakable tragedy and worry for some friends. One, who went for her 20 week regular appointment only to find out her baby had no heartbeat. Another, who fought for 6 months for her premature baby, to get him home, only to have him back in the hospital 4 short months later in respiratory failure.

And I'm struck, again, about how unfair life is. Bad things happen to good people all the time. And I'm at a loss as to how to explain it. I've had my fair share, but I've been blessed to be able to keep moving forward and trust that God has this under control too. I can only pray for my friends that they have the same comfort.

So I sit here. Rejoicing at how far I've come. Rejoicing in the excruciating pain in my ribs (that the doctor thinks is actually a rib that's popping out of place thanks to said critter) because it means he/she is STILL there. Rejoicing in my two year old who is making life ever more interesting as we enter this growing independent stage and not wanting mommy and daddy to have any say. Rejoicing in her tantrums. Because it means she is HERE and healthy and normal. No apparent long term effects from her prematurity.

And praying. Praying for my friends.

And if you pray, please pray for them. They need the prayers more than I do at the moment.