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.