How is this even possible? How is this our reality?
Amniocentesis… chromosomal abnormality… soft markers… trisomies… possibly incompatible with life…
These can not be words spoken to me about my baby. Can they?
About this baby girl I’ve carried for over 7 months. The little baby that gave and continues to give me so much happiness.
Did I really have to have that giant needle stuck into my belly? Did I really have to make that decision, the one with a 1 in 400 chance of miscarriage?
Am I really waiting on results from that test that could completely change the course of our life?
Could my next weeks really be filled with gut wrenching decisions and heart breaking talks?
Am I really trying to plan how I’ll sit down with my 3 year old and tell him this baby may not be coming home with us if that’s the outcome? Will he really have to watch us take down the baby crib he helped set up? Will I really have to break his little heart along with my own?
If you’ve ever played this waiting game, my chest aches for you.
I feel incapable of doing anything. My laundry, my dishes, my baby girls room, it’s all at a sudden stand still. Halted by the ultrasound that literally shook me to my core.
I can’t allow myself to plan anything, one way or the other. I’m just stuck.
I’ve had to go to a very strange place, a place of pure survival.
I am just surviving the days until we know. And if it’s bad news, I feel like I will just survive the next immediate portion of my life.
I’ve got my son. My kind, hilarious, sweet little first born baby. The one whose pregnancy tricked me into thinking it would always be that easy. That it would always be complication free.
That is so far from the case. I thought the miscarriage that landed me unconscious in an ambulance would be the lowest point in our child bearing story… how is it possible that I might have been wrong?
How is this real?
Thank goodness for that 3 year old, or else I am 100% certain I would not have gotten out of bed today. I would have laid there feeling deeply sorry for myself… something that at this point, I feel I’ve earned.
Because non of this is fair.
This is not how it was supposed to go.
I’m not supposed to be sitting here, googling until my eyes literally ache. Hoping and praying to the god I don’t even believe in, for the lesser of two evils. For the least bad diagnosis.
But here we are.
And maybe all this worry will be for nothing. Maybe we will be the medical miracle who beats the odds. It happens.
Maybe today will be the day we get good news.
Maybe this will be the day my sweet sweet husband won’t have to pick me up from my puddle on the floor like every other night this week. Maybe it will be the news that gives him his tidy, put together, emotionally stable wife back.
Maybe it will be the day I don’t have to see my ridiculously strong significant other tear up and do his best to hide it. Because this is his reality too.
Maybe I won’t have to lie to my 3 year old today about why I’m crying or why I’ve got yet another appointment he can’t come to.
I don’t want to sound like we’ve given up hope, because we haven’t. Not by a long shot. I am hoping for the best, but being realistic and preparing my heart for the worst.
And even if I could just get something in between, I’d take it.
I love you so much sweet baby girl. And regardless of the outcome, I can’t wait to meet you.
I’m sorry for all my sadness, I hope you can’t feel it. It’s just, I’m walking through uncharted territory here, and I’m trying my best to stay upright.
A Beautifully Mediocre Mama