Today I’m at home, it’s raining out and I’m writing in our school room, Charlie at my side. Bella is at her hourly care class so I had time to work and finish up some papers for school.
I’m really trying not to let myself be consumed by this pregnancy. Looking back on Kaden’s (and the twins) I see how the fear and panic of it all just ate away at me. Months and months on end.
I can’t do that this time.
That might seem a little strange from someone who has experienced 3 losses and 3 high risk pregnancies (and is no longer on Zoloft), but it’s the truth.
Look at what happened. I spent all.that.time in fear, almost paralyzed by it at some points. Desperate for a different outcome. I did everything and then some.
And he still died.
I never imagined that he would have died after I carried him to full term. I imagined just about everything else though. And it didn’t help. It solved nothing.
Sure I have fears and worries. But it feels different this time. Not because I’ve got this, “I’ve got a good feeling about this one!” mentality – that seems to strongly discount what I’ve just walked through. It’s more of a feeling that I’ve already faced this head on, and I’ll do my best within reason to my own sanity and the care of my family, and I’m putting the rest in God’s hands. I can’t live like I did with the past two pregnancies. I might have been there physically, but emotionally and mentally I was checked out into hyper freak out mode 80% of the time.
No matter what happens this time, no matter the diagnosis or the prognosis or the timeline or the right doctors or being treated badly or taking meds or shooting myself in the leg every night with Lovenox or a cerclage from hell or so many appointments I felt like I needed my own “10 visits get one free card” or rationalizing with myself all the signs and ways that told me it would be ok or holding my babies as they died – I have lived through this. Some of it twice. The very worst thing I thought could ever happen as a mother. I’m still here.
Almost 19 months. Almost 3 years.
I want to believe so badly that this little one will come home with us this time. So you know what? There are times I let myself envision that, because it won’t change whatever going to happen. It might work out that way, it might not. So I’m choosing to have hope and also realism. I am not going to live in a “3rd times the charm!” world, and I’m not going to lay down and die for the next 8 months.
I’m going to continue my work, my school, the things I’ve set in motion. So if something does happen, I have a life to go on with. I’m going to be with Bella and Sam as a present, hopeful mama, and we’ll just love this little one as much as we can. I’ll go to my appointments and be my own advocate, ask questions and present what I’ve learned – I’ll give my best to this little life.
But at some point I have to trust that God is sovereign, and no amount of worrying on my end changes the plan He has for His own children. Man that’s hard to do. It’s so hard to trust.