It seems so impossible.

I am a mere two weeks from the third trimester, the baby is getting pretty darn big (or so it feels by the size of my belly and the strength of his kicks), and some days it feels so incredibly impossible that my husband and I will actually become parents this time around.

Everything feels so much the same; in the wee hours and the moments alone, I can’t help but worry it’s another cruel joke.

My doctor tells me they’ll be doing some extra monitoring here soon, and I wonder (a bit cynically), just what they will be looking for. Michael was a perfect example of a perfect pregnancy — he passed every test with flying colors — right up until he wasn’t. And then no one could tell us why. None of their tests and monitors showed squat.

Just like now: perfect baby, perfect pregnancy.

I feel so guilty and shamed for my inability to truly get excited, as carelessly and unadulterated as the exuberant strangers who pry into my mother-to-be status — but I feel overshadowed by the knowledge that this wonderful, amazing, beautifully precious thing can end right as it is supposed to begin. And it doesn’t help that so much of this journey is so much the same. (Periodically I find myself calling this baby by Michael’s name, and that really bothers me. I know it happens, especially when you’ve had more than one child, but psychologically I need the distinction.) I’m gritting my teeth and moving forward regardless, I am twisting my own arm into making plans because I can’t put them off any longer. And it’s all happening so fast and yet not fast enough, and I am exhausted with wanting to fliptothelastpagealready so I can see how the story ends.

I just pray it isn’t a waste of time.

I pray there is a point, and that it involves not being childless — again — at the end of September.

I pray this little fella keeps kicking and squirming and fighting as hard as he can.

Dear God, help me get through these final weeks.

6 thoughts on “Impossible

  1. I’m pretty sure, that everyone who lost a child feels the same way you are. I wish it wasn’t so, but with the knowledge we have I think it’s normal. Know that you all are being prayed for. Your Doctor sounds like they will pay extra attention too. Don’t be afraid to call them often during this time either. I think we went in for a heart monitoring at least twice outside of the normal once a week visit. I kept an excel file of the multiple times a day I counted kicks. *hugs*

    Even calling them the same name sometimes is normal. I did it too. I have caught my mom doing it too. When baby is born it is easier not to do that. ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. *hugs* I am so thankful and so blessed to have such an awesome family among our SCA friends, church friends, coworkers, etc. The support and love has been incredible. And all the prayers. It means a lot. It really does take a village…

    I know I can call my doc — and he’s been very open and willing about everything, I feel like I’m in good hands — but I feel so silly doing it. ๐Ÿ˜› Now that the baby is getting bigger, I’m having less and less moments of worry about his movement level (apparently, we make active babies, lol), so that’s nice. Anytime I feel myself getting concerned, I tell myself to just wait a bit — and sure enough, he wakes up and starts bouncing around in there. He’s been quite good about reassuring me. ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. Doria was spot on perfect for every test, too. I think it’s supposed to provide peace of mind more than anything, but Zoe loved to dodge their heartbeat scanners and create a more torturous process for her parents.
    I’m guessing it’s the nonstress tests, which are really checking the baby’s heartbeat, but stop the parents’ a few times.

    The best part of all that to me was just that they were doing what they could.

      1. Of course there is! There’s only one thing that takes that away.
        Then we found that Zoe has no apparent sense of fear or consequences for her ideas. She’s a daredevil.
        That’s mostly fun to watch and encourage, but I’m pretty sure years are going off the heart more quickly now.

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