One day at a time
|Image credit: Simply Hue Designs on etsy|
Every little fear you have from the moment you see the two pink lines is magnified by the intense life experiences that forever change the way you think about bringing a child into the world. I wrote a little more about how I'm feeling this time around over on the CCA Kids Blog here.
Ricky and I had an appointment yesterday with a high risk doctor to discuss my pregnancy. At 12 weeks, we were able to have another ultrasound to check all the major physical developments of baby 3. We searched the screen for every limb, a healthy spine, all chambers of the heart, the brain. And although I am not overly concerned with having another baby with Apert Syndrome (as our chances are the same as before, 1 in 160,000), we asked the sonographer to get a good look at the hands and feet for peace of mind. It appears all fingers and toes are present and accounted for...separately. What a relief.
However just before we left the house, I scanned Facebook for the millionth time and almost hit the ground when I read the following from a friend: "So the only reason I'm putting this on fb is so I don't have to tell each person individually. The baby didn't make it."
On the days leading up to that morning were posts about their exciting appointment where they would find out the sex of their baby. She was 21 weeks along.
My heart broke into a million pieces for her and husband. While our experiences are entirely different, I can relate to the the feeling of excitement turning to devastating loss before their eyes. Not knowing about Aiden's condition until he was born provided a flood of emotion that I'll never forget.
It didn't take hearing of this friend's tragic loss to register in my mind just how difficult it is to actually carry to term and have a healthy baby - what a blessing it is when all the stars align and the outcome is good. That is something I learned the moment it didn't happen for us. But reading her news while I am pregnant stirs up all kinds of additional fears. After leaving our appointment yesterday, we joked that I am probably every doctor's worst nightmare. We spent an hour and a half asking questions and searching for reassurance. But the reality is, the only reassurance you get is when the baby is placed on your chest in the delivery room. Alive. Healthy.
Today, this friend is dealing with having to deliver the baby she carried for 21 weeks. And saying goodbye to something she'll never know but already loved more than words can describe. That is something I cannot relate to. I can't even imagine.
Please say a prayer for my friend and her husband - that they can somehow find comfort in the love and support from their family and friends as they go through this extremely difficult time. And if you wouldn't mind throwing an extra one in there for me - that even knowing all the terrible things that can happen, all I can really do is breathe and take one day at a time.