She came into the world with vigor. She came with a loud shriek. She screamed her announcement that she was here and she was well and I could breathe again. Tears of relief came with her. She was here and she was safe.
She looks like her brother. But there’s a piece of the sister she will never meet. The one lost too soon. She’s perfect and shes alive. She’s alive. How sweet it is to say those words.
Welcome to the world, Sunshine.
Here I am again. Miraculously, I am hugely pregnant awaiting the arrival of my sweet baby. Things can go wrong still. I know this. But I am choosing to think that we will hold our Sunshine and listen to her breathe softly. I am choosing to believe that I will introduce her to her siblings and watch them grow and interact. I am choosing to believe in a future.
We’ve been preparing the kids. Telling them about Sunshine. Showing them the ultrasound pictures. She is excited. He is indifferent. Neither have a clue about how their world will change soon. Soon their little group of two will be three. Soon our family will be complete. Soon it will be over for good. Finally we will have reached the end.
At the beginning of this year, I couldn’t picture this. I couldn’t picture being here again. But here I am again. Wonderfully, miraculously, awaiting my Sunshine.
It happened. We got through it. The heartbeat was strong and beautiful. I can breathe for a little longer. Things can still happen. I’m not at viability yet. But for now I can breathe.
It’s a girl. My beautiful rainbow girl. We have a name but here she will be Sunshine. My beautiful ray of Sunshine after a horrible storm.
Still here. 18 weeks now. One more week until we reach the dreaded milestone. The week we found out we lost Arwen. I haven’t scheduled my anatomy scan. I can’t yet. Its just too damn close. I need to get to week 20 at least. I need to know I can get that far.
I want to live with the doppler attached to me. I want to make sure baby is always there. Alive. Heart beating swiftly. But I can’t. I have to live. I have to take care of Penny and Turkey. They are growing so fast. I don’t want to miss this time with them. I’m just torn. I feel kicks. Baby lets me know it’s alive. Every now and then. It is a good reminder.
We haven’t found out the sex this time. I need to get past 19 weeks. Then we’ll find out. Maybe. I know I should find out. It will help me bond. But part of me doesn’t want to bond. Babies die sometimes. Babies die and take huge chunks of my heart with them. My heart can’t take that any more.
I’m a mess. But I’m still here.
I found that beautiful sound. There’s a baby in there with a beautiful heartbeat pumping away. After all the fears, all the blood, there it was. It sounds strong. It sounds like hope.
I know it means nothing. A heartbeat can stop so quickly still. It can stopnat any time. But for today my baby is alive. Today my baby’s heart is beating. That has to be enough. Its enough to get me through today.
I hate this part of pregnancy. The limbo. The gray area. I hate it so much. Its compounded by the fact that we vowed to not do the infertile thing. No betas, no early ultrasounds, nothing. I haven’t even called my OB yet. But I hate it. I wish I hadn’t made that promise.
“Today you are pregnant and that’s enough,” K said this morning. He’s said it every morning. He’s watched me agonize over lines and pop prenatals like they can save my baby. He hasn’t watched me obsessively check after every wipe but he knows I do that. He knows the crazy runs deep.
I’m still spotting occasionally. Just when I wipe. Sometimes pink, sometimes dark red, but mostly brown. Not all the time either. Just when I think I can breathe a little easier it rears its head again.
But I am kidding myself anyway. I can’t ever breathe easier. Babies die all the time. I won’t breathe until the baby is here. As if holding my breath will keep it from all falling apart.
Just breathe. I need to just breathe.
I conceived. I was surprised when I saw the super faint line on Sunday. I didn’t expect it to happen quickly. Its early still. I’m only 11DPO at the most. But I’m spotting. I know it could be nothing. I know many healthy pregnancies start with bleeding. I know that many unhealthy pregnancies have no issues until the heartbeat is silenced. I know brown and pink arent signs of impending doom. But I’m spotting. I’m terrified. I can’t do this again.