If......

It really is all about time and support.  In less than a week I will have an amino to see if this baby is ready to come out.  Part of me totally believes she will arrive safely.  Part of me is still so afraid to anticipate her safe arrival. The undoing of the nursery after Gabbie didn't arrive safely was so hard.  To think of having to do it again is painful.  Everyone is praying for her arrival, and although I believe in the power of prayer to a degree, I also know prayers don't always get answered.  So while I sort of prep for her arrival, I also steel myself for the possibility that it may not be.  Each kick, each roll (and there are many), each tap are carefully monitored.  The cherry blossom decal is on her wall, her clothes are in the dresser.  She has a cherry blossom and butterfly pattern set for her crib waiting for her to come.  Her crib, however, waits in pieces in the basement for that first cry that tells of her safe arrival.  That cry, the one I dream about hearing, is the one that gives me so much anxiety that I might never hear.  My husband and I decided it best to wait for the crib.  Neither of us are willing (capable?) to take it down if... well just if.

I know that my body has again, inexplicably produced too much fluid.  It is hard to not be nervous.  She, even at 36 weeks and over 7 lbs according to the sonograms, still has too much room to move.  With a sonogram every 4-7 days, she had not yet been in the same position as the one before.  Working her way around my womb in a sort of clockwise pattern she has now spun around nearly two full rotations.  At the last sonogram I asked the sonographer to see if she could tell if the cord was wrapped around her neck, like Gabbie's was.  Her answer was "no" thank goodness.  Had she said yes, I don't know what I'd have done.

Thinking over the past two years, I can honestly say I have some of the most understanding and sympathetic, support network anyone could ask for. And I'm so thankful. My friends provide encouragement and share links and stories with me of butterflies and others who understood the loss of a baby.  And if they have grown tired of my relatively vocal "missing" of my baby girl, no one had voiced any concern.  My family understands what it means to me that she is remembered, acknowledged and talked about.  They know how she affects me still, and most likely forever.  They understand that even when (or if) this baby arrives safely it doesn't mean that I'm "over" Gabbie.  This baby inside has three big sisters.  Just as S, my eldest, will forever have three little sisters.  I will continue to talk with my girls about Heaven and Gabbie, like I do now.  I don't think S and G would have it any other way.   I'm so much closer to my husband than I ever thought I could be, even now, he is my rock.  He worries with me over her.  He scolds me for doing too much around the house but then understands that if I don't stay occupied I worry myself into anxiety.  He talks me down from hysterics, and tells me that I'm beautiful despite the fact that my mascara is often run, my ankles swell in the heat of May, I can't sleep laying down anymore, and my belly is too big to be covered fully by most of my shirts.  He makes me feel beautiful, and makes me laugh, and loves me even when I'm acting irrationally and crazy.  I can't imagine holding anyone else's hand when I get the news about whether she is ready at 37 weeks to be born, or if I'll have to live through the anxiety of 38 weeks if they make me wait because she's not ready.

I am looking forward to meeting this little girl, and although I fear it will not be a sweet pink face that I see, I am beginning to believe it will be.  Mostly.  Maybe.  And regardless, I know I have people around me who will cheer her safe arrival or cry with me and hold me up if by some chance she... just if....