Preparing to be prepared... For anything.

The baby is developing perfectly. I did not expect this to be different. None of my girls had abnormalities or poor development. No. They were all beautiful perfect little baby girls. The only one who was sick through any of my pregnancies was me. 

At the sonogram appointment yesterday it was not that I had somehow talked myself into believing there'd be something wrong. It was that everything would be ok. I had always thought with Gabbie that everything would be okay. And now I know it may not be. There was no reason. We were given no warning. All my diligence and love could not save her. The last time I had a sonogram machine on me we did not hear her heartbeat. It's too early for this baby's heart to be heard. I am scared of the day I feel it move. And no matter how hard I wish or pray or try or worry, and no matter how many doctors or sonograms or tests I have, I know there is a possibility this baby may not come home.   That thought is where nightmares come from. But I have to prepare and believe that it will come home. I have to prepare to be prepared in the event my life changes because it WILL change one way or another. 

I described it like this to a friend at work today: it is like I am watching a movie in which I play a role but for some reason I can't remember the ending. It is all so surreal.  

Happy to be sick

Each morning I barely crawl out of bed. I'm tired. So tired. I ache. I have pains. I get sick, so sick feeling, especially at night. On my way home from work I can barely keep my eyes open and need a nap when I walk in the door. But all of those don't matter. None. I am happy with each. Happy.  Glad for them. The day I lost Gabbie I remember feeling good. Better than good. I wasn't sick, I wasn't tired. I didn't know until later that she was gone. I didn't know that me feeling good was a sign that she was gone, that I didn't have her anymore. I would be so sick every single day with this sweet baby if it meant that it comes home with me. I will not complain. I find it hard to smile, though I am so happy to try again. At any moment, on any day I could feel wonderful and then my world could come crashing down around me. Again. And in darkness I could fall to my knees and wonder why. I'm hesitant. I'd call it a waiting game but this is no game.    I can honestly say that in the last year and a half I have found myself on my knees in tears or in prayer more times than than in the rest of my life combined. But we have no control and all I can do is pray that someone hears my desperate prayers and hope that fate will be kind. 

A take home baby coming in May

We told the girls the other day, on the 15th of October. We told the girls on the day of Remembrance for baby loss, that mommy is growing a baby in her tummy. G was unconvinced.

D: what would you think if you got a baby sister or brother?

G: a baby brother would be good or a sister. 

D: where do you think we will get one?  

G: we'll steal it from someone else's house. 

Me and D: that's not nice. 

D: that would make a mommy and daddy sad. 

Me: where else might we get a baby. 

G: we'll find it on the streets and bring it home. 

Me: um... Not gonna happen. Babies aren't just out on the street. 

D: what if it's in mommy's tummy?

G: she'd have had to eat it. But look I have bones. That's my skeleton. That's not in tummies. 

Me: my tummy is gonna get bigger as the baby grows. 

G: does Daddy have a baby?  

Me: no daddy has tacos in there. (In my defense we had tacos for dinner). 

G: oh.  I have tacos in mine too.   

Lord she makes me laugh. 

Turns out that explaining to a three year old that there's a tiny baby in a belly is funny. I laughed through it all.  Sky was excited and wants a boy. 

I want a baby. One that comes home from the hospital. One that doesn't require explanations for why it's in heaven. One that doesn't break the heart of a whole family and especially doesn't break the hearts of two little girls. One that comes delivered by his or her big sister, but pink and breathing. Please God. That is all. A healthy, breathing, pink take-home-in-my-arms baby.   It can't happen twice. It just can't. I will remain positive though I have flashbacks. Flashbacks of them looking for a heartbeat. Flashbacks of being crumpled in my knees in the funeral home before her urn. Nope. Positive. It won't happen again. 

Getting older

The older G gets the more questions there are that I can't answer. The other day she asked when we could have a baby that we could keep and then proceeded to talk on a "phone" to a baby brother. Today she was filled with questions: why is heaven up in the sky, why does Gabbie have to be there, why can't she come down and go trick or treating with her, why does she have a sister she can't see. Why? Why? Why?  I have no answers. 

S turns 10 tomorrow. How did my first baby get so much older than I remember?  How did I let time eek away?

I am happy with the new place; there are butterflies and flowers. Though summer is old now and has turned to autumn, and the butterflies and flowers will leave, she is here. When we moved in, this was left in the window. 

I miss you baby. I miss you and love you. I'm doing okay without you but oh how I still feel your absence, and your presence (thank God.).