22 weeks

There is something really special about hitting the 22 week mark.  A moment I never experienced with Reagan, a first for a little girl in our family.  And she's still healthy, another first for this moment.  I'm not lying in a hospital bed, I'm not hooked up to monitors, I'm not heavily medicated for strong, unrelenting contractions.  At this point with Reagan, we were saying goodbye and coming home empty handed.  At this point with Warren and Dean, we were praying I'd hang on for another 2 weeks so they'd have a chance of survival.  And the 3rd pregnancy?  Nothing.  Everything looks great.  At our check up on Tuesday, the specialist was confident that even if my contractions got worse, there was no way I'd deliver before 28 weeks.  Know what that means??  The 3rd trimester!  I've never experienced the third trimester.  I've delivered 3 babies in only 4 total trimesters.  Hmmm...  We are prayerfully optimistic that baby girl will make her appearance at some point much closer to term.

So...bring on the stretch marks, heartburn, and back aches that come with growing uncomfortably huge!

21.5 weeks

Today is the day.  The day that marks the point in pregnancy when we learned Reagan was gone.  The point in the pregnancy when I was given the news that my cervix was shortened and they couldn't guarantee labor could be stopped so I should prepare for the worst with Warren and Dean.  In one instance, God proved bigger than what the doctors could see and He saved my precious boys.  In the other, He took our daughter home too early.  In both, we were stripped of all our comforts and forced to rely on Him completely.

I'm at that point again.  And I'm terrified.  This child doesn't like to move much at all, she's calm.  Later in life, that will be an immeasurable blessing.  But right now?  It's terrifying.  I haven't felt her in the last 24 hours.  Nothing.  And I dropped weight while on vacation, which doesn't seem normal at all.  It's feeling all too familiar.  And I'm feeling like I'm on the verge of breaking down and retreating into my little hole.  Except for these two boys...and for reading them books, singing songs together, and watching them cook in their new little kitchen.  I've got some music playing softly in the background, and every minute or two one of them will start dancing.  I love seeing their innocence, the complete blissful ignorance toward the heart wrenching pain their mommy is feeling this morning.  I will hate the day when the world takes that from them.

We're heading out to an appointment in another hour, waiting to see our second little girl on the ultrasound screen.  And praying that all is well, that it's simply the stress of the day causing my symptoms (or lack of them).  Trying to trust in the Lord's plan for our life and in His goodness when it is just so hard and when our life looks nothing like what we pictured or planned.  It's all a bit overwhelming.

Half way

So, we've passed the half-way point.  Given that I'm, hopefully, going to have a cesarean around the 38-39 week mark, I actually would have passed that point over a week ago.  Regardless, I have mixed emotions about it.  This moment marks the last post I wrote while pregnant with Reagan, the first post I wrote while in labor with my boys.  And this time around?  Healthy.  No signs of any complications, no swelling, no bleeding, and all indication that the cerclage is doing it's job.  Maybe, once I'm past the next month, I can begin to relax.  Maybe.

In the mean time, we've started to plan out the nursery.  I was able to finish the baby blanket, crocheted in pink, grey, and yellow, to hang over the rocking chair.  I'm ordering fabric samples for the ruffled bed skirt.  We're planning how to rearrange furniture.  And, in the next few weeks, we'll order a crib.  I hesitate to get this far into the process, unsure of the future, doubting my body's ability and God's goodness.  But I am trying to walk in faith, trusting God to provide, to keep Baby Savant safe through delivery.  To allow us the sense of normalcy we so long for after 3 children born far too early.

A sneak peak of the start of an attempt to be crafty...

Missing

There is something just so difficult about family trips.  It's been there with weddings, with Christmases, and with reunions.  Someone is missing.  Our daughter.  Reagan isn't here to play with her brothers in the stream, to enjoy the taste of ice cream after playing in the park, to dance to the music in the house.  It feels so wrong.  A piece of me is always missing.

We're at the point in our lives now where things are busy, hectic, and distracted.  Though I have moments throughout the week where my heart aches at thinking of how much Reagan would enjoy doing whatever it is we're doing together as a family, it's not quite so in your face.  It's more of a subtle ache, the hole I've grown used to.  I'm not quite sure how to handle this new wave of emotion and loss I seem to be feeling this week.

We're 20 weeks pregnant.  The next 2 weeks will be so hard.  Waiting to see if these constant contractions are going to send me into labor, if I'll wind up in the hospital again.  Ultimately waiting for our appointment at 21+4 to see if our second daughter is still thriving.  If everything still checks out.  The waiting is awful.  The nightmares are awful.  The flashbacks are awful.  I'm not really sure how else to describe it, another word to put in there.  I'm terrified.  And waiting for the bad news to hit.  And not sure how to trust God with any of this when I still can't wrap my head around what's happened over these past several years.  So, please pray for us as we wait and try to trust.