My "urban legend"

Mike and I were blissfully talking about our little Gummy the other day, wondering all the things most expectant parents ponder, when it occurred to both of us that all of this still feels like a dream and not necessarily something that could come to fruition.

We assume that Gummy will be okay and get to come home with us, but we only know the bad outcomes to our past pregnancies. We only know the things where most people can say, "I knew so-and-so who lost a baby" or "I knew a couple who had multiple losses." We know those people, too, and unfortunately we are those people.

That's all we know. For us, bringing a baby home is our version of an urban legend, since "we know so-and-so who brought a baby girl home," but have no personal knowledge about what it's like to welcome a baby into our home. At times, it almost seems like a fantasy and I feel silly for believing this all could really happen.

We've gone through these motions before, with the anticipation and dreaming and preparing, which is why we're both feeling so guarded and apprehensive at the moment. And neither of us knows how to shake those feelings to truly believe that there will be a healthy, happy baby at the end of this journey. It's really, really hard to have that faith when all you know personally is the bad that supposedly "happens to other people."

We are those other people. We exist. We're real and our baby died.

So, now I'm hoping we can know what's on the other side of the coin and know that there are truly good pregnancy outcomes - not just ones that we hear about happening to someone else.

Leaping further

Today marks 26 weeks into my pregnancy. Some days, the time seems to have flown by, while other days, it's dragging at a snail's pace. Just 13 weeks to go till we, hopefully, get to meet our little glimmer of hope.

Otherwise, we're trying to make plans like any other expectant parents - only, we're not quite like most expectant parents. We've made a few purchases for Gummy, but we're still a little reluctant to do too much, just in case it all blows up in our faces again. It may not, but we're treading lightly nonetheless.

Gummy's changing table arrived two weeks ago, but we haven't assembled it yet. We're still working on a way to repaint the nursery, but leave some of the blue and tan paint that we used for Ryan. Not an easy feat, considering the colors we're considering using are purple and pink and don't exactly complement the existing colors.

I can't remember if I've shared nursery pictures before, but here's how Ryan's room looked, ready for his homecoming:










I'm finally feeling movement from within and it's upped my reassurance level even more. She's already developing her own little routine so I know when to expect the daily kick-fest to begin. I love all the activity, but wish she wouldn't choose 4am to literally bounce off her walls. And, I experienced my first Braxton-Hicks contraction today, too. Might not sound like a big deal to most, but considering I never had them with Ryan and even my labor contractions were almost non-existent, I see this as a pretty big thing.

Here's how I looked as of three weeks ago:



My next OB appointment is tomorrow morning, and I should receive a definite C-section date.

Gulp.

Maybe all of this is going to work out after all.

Still battling those demons

After my last entry and the many insightful comments I received (thank you!), I thought it best to take some time to evaluate why I blog. There's no question I blog for myself - or at least that's been my goal. And, as it reads in my sidebar, this is my space to work through my feelings, as strange and difficult as they may be. So, here I'll remain.

The past few weeks have been difficult and I've spent a lot of time trying to reconcile my feelings over lots of things, mostly related to Ryan and his little sister. As excited as I am about her arrival, in the same instance I'm incredibly sad about Ryan's absence. At times it feels that the further I progress into this pregnancy, the further I'm taken from Ryan. It's like I'm in the middle of a never-ending game of tug o' war.

It's really difficult to fully embrace this pregnancy, because I feel like I'm turning my back on my little boy if I do. I know he'll always be in my heart and be a huge part of who I've become as a person and as a mother, but I feel quite guilty about being so excited about little Gummy's arrival.

When I try to sort through these feelings, my logic kicks in and I wonder why I'm torturing myself with these thoughts in the first place. But, the guilt is there, nonetheless, and no amount of common sense does me any good in lessening that guilt.

But, in Gummy's defense, she deserves the same anticipation that I felt for Ryan. The loss of his little life shouldn't overshadow the joy Gummy's has brought into our lives. And, I feel confident that Ryan would want that for his little sister, too.

Maybe I feel that I'm choosing one child over another, a sometimes common issue for mothers. Ugh - I just don't know. I only know that I've been missing Ryan in a way I haven't felt in a long time, and my feelings are a jumbled mess.

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A good while back I blogged about clearing out Ryan's room and how Mike was adamant about not getting rid of Ryan's things. At the time, I tried to look at it objectively, pointing out that everything in that room is just "stuff" and not our little boy. We donated a good bit of onesies and other miscellaneous items in the first weeks after we lost Ryan, but we hadn't touched anything since then.

Two weekends ago we decided it was time to clear some things from the dresser drawers - in part to make room for Gummy, to put aside some mementoes of Ryan, and to give away anything we didn't feel attached to.

The task proved to be much bigger than I had anticipated, and I easily went through a box of tissues as we painstakingly went through each piece of clothing, blankie, and toy we had picked out especially for Ryan. No, it wasn't "him," but it was if it was, since we have so few tangible reminders of him. And, it felt so wrong to be going through someone's things who never even got a chance to use them.

Mike and I were feeling very selfish that day and ended up keeping far more than I had expected we would. It turned out not to be just "stuff" after all. Maybe we saved more than we should have, but I figure that later down the road we may decide that we can part with more. But, for now, we have that safety blanket that makes both of us comfortable.

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Things have been going so smoothly that it's almost scary. No, I'm not looking for something to go wrong, but it seems so strange that everything is so right, after all that's gone awry for us. But, this wonderful blessing has helped to renew some of my faith that we'll finally have a happy ending.

Some. I still have a ways to go, but I'm on my way.

The storm before the calm

Tomorrow is Gummy Bear's big ultrasound and, hopefully, the day I get to hear the words, "Your baby is perfect healthy" - with those words being truly accurate.

Ryan's ultrasound couldn't have been a better day for us - one that I cherish to this very moment. Mike and I playfully kept guessing if Ryan was a boy or girl, and it only took a moment after the ultrasound tech placed the transducer on my belly to see that he was indeed a little boy. And, what a beautiful little boy he was.

I wish so much that I could once again feel the innocence and joy I felt leading up to Ryan's big reveal, but I just can't. I have yet to feel distinct movement from this little one (we're sporting an anterior placenta this time around), so I'm somewhat disconnected from him or her. Plus, I physically feel so different this time than with Ryan, that if I didn't have the reassurance of the doppler, I'd swear I wasn't even pregnant, because I feel so normal. Just plump.

The holidays did a mighty fine job of preoccupying my mind so I didn't have time to conjure up every imaginable bad scenario out there. But now that the dust has settled and life is back to normal, every possible bad outcome is frighteningly vivid in my head. And I know that these thoughts are illogical, but that doesn't prevent them from popping up. I'm scared. I'm scared for us and scared for our little miracle baby.

I'm also terrified of history repeating itself - to go through a seemingly flawless appointment, only to be faced with a horrible reality in four months. Could life be that cruel? Absolutely. We all know it can be, so I can't pretend that I don't know what could happen, so I have to be prepared in case the other shoe really does drop. Tomorrow's appointment is Part 1 of 2, with Part 2 taking place on Tuesday in the form of a fetal echocardiogram. That's the appointment that will really tell us what we're dealing with, if anything. If we make it through that appointment unscathed ... well, let's get through it first.

All I can do is hope and pray that what I'm experiencing now is the worst of it, and after tomorrow's and Tuesday's appointments have passed, I'll be able to feel a sense of calm and be confident that we have received the most accurate diagnosis possible, and that this little one has been spared Ryan's fate.

Deep breaths commencing.

Who's still with me?

Sorry to leave you all hanging with last week's teaser entry. I just didn't want to jump the gun by sharing the thoughts in my head before I talked to Mike to get his take on things.

So ...

We both decided that we're not quite ready to give up on our dream of giving Ryan a biological sibling.

I know, I know. You must be thinking, "Would she make up her mind already?!" I apologize for being wishy-washy, since I'm usually very content in my decisions and choices and rarely renege.

But, choosing to hang on to hope that we'll have another baby is a valid reason to reconsider our decision to adopt. Right?

I kept having feelings of doubt about whether I was ready to move on to adoption. I guess that's a perfectly natural way to feel, but I just haven't been able to wholly embrace the thought of adoption. I can't tell you why I can't accept adoption, but I just can't right now. My heart is telling me that the time isn't right just yet.

This reassessment of our decision came about after Mike and I went out for dinner and were talking about his mental health and what things we could do on our own to aid in his treatment. (Surprisingly enough, we have some very open and honest conversations over dinner ... at restaurants.)

I, point blank, asked him what it would take to make him feel better about everything in our life. Without a moment of hesitation, his reply was, "For you to be pregnant ... but no pressure or anything."

So, his response sparked a new conversation - one where we decided that neither of us is ready to give up trying for another baby. He wasn't ready to jump back into the craziness of fertility treatments, which is completely okay with me because I wasn't ready for that, either. But, he has faith that we can do it on our own; our time just hasn't come yet.

Admittedly, my own faith was renewed a bit last week by the news that a dear friend is expecting twins. She's experienced fertility obstacles similar to my own and lost her sweet baby boy, too. Yet, she became pregnant on an unmedicated and unmonitored cycle! Yes, miracles do happen!

How can an outcome like that not have a positive effect on someone like me? She's living proof that until my doctor says otherwise, I still have a chance, too, of having another baby. I can't turn my back on that possibility yet. I just can't.

My fertility window may be slowly closing, but it's open enough that a miracle can squeeze through when I least expect it.

Here's to the return of hope ... cheers!