My other "friends"

I'm back ... kind-of.

Well, I guess I never really left. I've just been silently sitting in my own little corner, wondering how I got here.

It's been almost five years (God, that realization takes my breathe away), and I still don't know how I should feel about all that's happened in that time. I've lived through a heartbreak I never imagined I'd have the strength to survive, and while it's still a daily struggle to push forward, I manage to find joy in the simple things, despite my perpetually heavy heart.

I still miss my boy oh so much. He's never far from my thoughts.

I'm realizing that this grieving thing has me chasing my tail far too often. Just when I think I've conquered a "step" in the process, I'm right back where I started, trying to understand all of it and deal with my feelings.

It's probably magnified, too, because of the timing of my current pregnancy. I find myself reliving so many of those final weeks with Ryan, since he and this little Jellybean were due just days apart. I'm so worried about history repeating itself and losing another piece of my soul. I don't know how to shake off that fear and pretend I'm okay while doing all these last-minute preparations for something that could be yanked away as easily as Ryan was.

Worry, sadness, anxiety, fear. They're my closest friends lately and know me better than anyone. It's funny how you can sometimes mistake your demons for your friends ...

Deep breathing has commenced

This past week was rough, no doubt. Having to lose our kitty, Wendy, so close to Gummy's arrival rattled both mine and Mike's cages a bit. We had been going about our business so seamlessly, so last week's bump in the road jolted us more than expected.

But, we're doing okay. There's still that absence of Wendy in our little family, and the other furbabies sense that something is off, too. We're doing our best, though, to focus on the good rather than dwell on the bad by keeping ourselves occupied with last-minute Gummy-related projects.

This morning Mike installed the car seat. I double-checked that my hospital bag is truly ready to go, and it is. Yesterday we cleaned our bedroom and bathroom to the point that I almost didn't recognize either room by the time we were done. Other than actually having this little baby, I don't know what else we can do to prepare ourselves.

But, along with all the joyful preparations, the feelings of fear and anxiety have slowly crept back into both our minds. Again, we're trying not to focus on the bad, but we both feel that we need to be aware of it. I mean, it's not like we can pretend we don't know how our last journey down this path ended. And, as much as we hope and pray that this outcome will be the complete opposite, we just don't know for certain that it will - till we walk out of the hospital with our little bundle in tow.

My last OB appointment was Friday and couldn't have been better. My OB is almost as excited as we are, but he completely understands our trepidation and respects why we feel the way we do. He told me once again how much he admires how Mike and I haven't given up our pursuit to have our little family and how our love for one another is quite apparent. Sure, he might've just been saying that to make me feel better, but it was nice to hear nonetheless, since it's the strength from our bond that has made it possible to pursue our dream.

On Friday night we went out for what will hopefully be our last childless date. We went to a local Mexican restaurant and had a wonderful, relaxing dinner, complete with an indulgent "tres leches" dessert. I was barely able to waddle my round body out of the restaurant afterward, but it was oh-so worth every bite.

I'll receive my final instructions by Tuesday, but for now, we're prepared to arrive at the hospital by 5:30 am for our 7:30 C-section. My OB explained the procedure again, in case I had forgotten any of the steps, and I'm still comfortable with the process. As long as Gummy arrives safely, I'll do what I have to do to achieve that desired ending. So, barring any emergency C-sections that bump us from the OR, we're the first on the schedule for the day.

Now, back to my deep breathing ...

Crying a river ... or two

I completely underestimated how unbelievably difficult it would be to tear Ryan's nursery to shreds. I know we're doing all the conversion for a good, promising reason, but that doesn't lessen the sting of tearing away at the plans and dreams we once had for our little boy.

Of Mike and myself, I've been the "strong" one to this point and have been able to go in there to organize and put away Ryan's effects. But, when it came to taking the pictures off the walls and packing up his bedding, Mike proved to be the stronger of the two of us, because I just could not muster that kind of strength to do what needed to be done. My grief became too raw and I was a sobbing mess, once again.

And, I'm riddled with guilt, because by this point in my pregnancy with Ryan, his nursery was completely finished and all his clothing and blankies were washed and ready to be used. But, this time, we're just now going in there to paint and I haven't washed a single item of Gummy's. Everything we've bought still has tags attached and the receipts are tucked safely away in a drawer, just in case. I'm not yet ready to take that leap into the unknown for fear of the unknown once again swallowing me and my dreams.

The end of this pregnancy is becoming more and more trying, as my level of fear is climbing and my confidence is waning. We're so close to finally grabbing that brass ring, but it could be yanked away from us in a heartbeat just as it was before.

How in the world can I finally believe that this could all really happen, with a happy ending intact?

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.

Being eaten alive

This is supposed to be such a happy time for me, with this new life (hopefully) growing inside me. Instead, I feel like I'm being eaten alive by my grief - that somehow it's grown into this horrible monster than I can't fend off, no matter how hard I try. And, for all the healing I've done in the past two years, it feels like I'm unraveling at a lightning-fast pace ... almost like I've made no progress at all in that time.

I cannot enjoy this pregnancy. I want this little one more than words could ever describe, and yet I'm terrified and worried and anxious every waking second. I feel like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for detonation and for my life as I know it to once again end.

I'm almost ten weeks along, and no amount of promising news can shake my fear that this will all end badly again. Sure, we saw and heard this bean's heartbeat at our last appointment, but to me, all that means is that, fortunately, he/she hasn't died yet. And, with having almost no pregnancy symptoms other than daily headaches and tender breasts, I don't find much comfort in feeling so good since that's not always a good thing, either. I need stronger reassurances than statistics can offer, but those just don't exist. My reality is stronger and more vivid than any of the odds out there. I guess that's where faith comes into play, and I clearly lack that.

I never imagined that another pregnancy would be so horribly difficult and disappointing. I realize that sounds incredibly selfish and ungrateful, but I'm not saying that I don't want this wonderful blessing. I just wish I weren't so jaded by my past so I could truly savor every tiny moment of this little one's presence and his/her tremendous impact on my life. He/she doesn't deserve to be overshadowed by something so horrible and tragic, and yet I don't know how to change that.

I just pray that tomorrow's appointment yields promising news ...