Wednesday, September 12, 2012

When Reality Becomes Real

This whole pregnancy I have been guarded. I have been reserved. I have been slow to move forward with any planning or preparation for this baby.

That is so unlike me.

Others have shown and expressed more excitement than I have. It is so strange to be in that place where others are beaming at your news and you are the one sitting in the corner, not displaying really any emotion.

I don't know if this is normal after what I have been through. I have questioned it and criticized myself for feeling and being this way.

I have no idea if this is normal.

My husband and I had started to shop for Little Man's bedding and items to decorate his room. It was done more out of not wanting to have to do it after his arrival than any force driven by excitement alone. As we were marking things off of our list, a part of me wanted to let out a sigh because things were getting done. The other part of me had to hold back the overwhelming urge to scream. I wanted to scream as things were getting marked off because what if, in the end, we are left with another room fully ready to welcome our baby but it too, sits empty?

I wanted to scream with fear.

And yet, at the same time, I still hadn't fully acknowledged that we may be bringing a baby home. It goes with the territory of being guarded.

It's fight or flight and I guess, more times than not, I have chosen to take flight during this pregnancy.

Last week, at 32 weeks gestation, I went into preterm labor.

My body left the flight mode and instead chose to throw down all forms of barriers and fight.

I have wondered so often if I had fallen in love with Little Man. I have wondered so much if I have bonded with him.

Those questions were answered. The reality became real. I am going to have another baby! And I want to fight for him.

I am bored. I would love nothing more than to be able to enjoy this (finally) wonderfully beautiful weather. I would love to be able to clean my home and prepare for Little Man but I can't. I am now on bed rest. And while I sit and lay around I am going crazy because I can't do for myself, I remind myself that I am fighting for Little Man. Fighting for some more precious hours . . . days . . . weeks for him to stay where he is safest. Where, for now, he is meant to be.

I am fighting because I love.

I love this baby. I know without a shadow of a doubt that this little guy is loved. I would do anything for him.

When I feel the urge to complain about the boredom or not being able to do what I really want, I stop myself because I would have given anything to have been able to do this for Emmerson and Vivienne.

I wasn't given that opportunity and I would have given anything to have been able to do that for them.

I don't need to be reminded of a different outcome. I know how different it could be. How different it was.

So this? This is an honor.

And I am thankful.


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