The last several months have been torture. I don't mean that I haven't enjoyed my baby at all. I love to feel him kick, reassuring me he is doing all right. However I feel like I have been waiting...and waiting...to see what is going to happen.
Is he going to make it to 38 weeks? Is he going to have a heart condition as well? Is he going to go home with us? Or is he going to be a NICU baby?
So many unanswered questions.
So many tears shed.
I hope.
I pray.
And now I have three weeks to see what happens.
I have been blessed with an incredible doctor. He has sat with me many appointments where tears streamed down my face as I voice my concerns. He has taken everything I have been through seriously. He has assured me that he will do whatever it takes to keep this baby safe...within his power.
As I pull out all the baby things I bought for Declan, my heart hurts. It is new. Never been spit up on, never even washed. I finally washed all my baby stuff in the delicious baby laundry soap. Tears welled in my eyes as I put the changing table pad and cover on. I had bought for them Declan. It has sat for three years, unused.
I have waited a long time for this. I had lost hope it would happen. I had almost given up trying to have more children. Now as I think back to when Emmy came home from the hospital...it feels a moment ago, but it was over 5 and 1/2 years ago.
As I draw near to the point when Declan was born (36 weeks) I am starting to miss him more. I feel no guilt for having another child...especially since it took us so much longer than we had anticipated, which allowed for time to grieve. I just wish he was here to enjoy this with us. I am missing my 3 year old. I want to see him point to my stomach making up silly names for his baby brother.
I have been in very dark places during this pregnancy. I wanted to be brave, strong, or anything resembling courage in anyway. I haven't. I barely made it through. I was a complete wreck. I felt my life crumbling around me as everything started to fall apart as I found I was pregnant. I have had tearful days I couldn't stop. I have worried. And worried. And worried some more.
Nothing has worked out the way I envisioned. However, he is still with me and I have high hopes that this time I will be wheeled out of the hospital with a treasure, instead of a loving box and blanket.
This last year was not my finest, but I am hopeful with this new year that things will start turning around. Through all the pain and heartache of last year I know I wasn't alone. I would never have made it through without the love of my Heavenly Father and Savior. This was by far my hardest pregnancy. All the stress took its toll and my diabetes was rough on my body.
If it wasn't for the aid I received from Heavenly sources, I don't know what I would have done. Now I am looking at three more weeks and finally will be able to breathe again.
