I’ve been neglecting this blog at a time I honestly thought I’d be using it most. I’m not sure why that is; I guess it’s complicated and writing simply hasn’t been my go-to lately. Right now, I feel like I’m tiptoeing through the days as summer floats away and the end of my pregnancy nears. I’m holding my breath, biding my time, just hoping everything is going to turn out as it should this time around. I’m scared.

The fear and anxiety has become very real these past two days in particular. We’re at 36 weeks now, and getting closer to the arrival of this baby boy. I keep trying to focus my thoughts on imagining hearing that first cry tear through the air and feeling his squirming weight upon my chest and in my arms. All I can do is imagine, and I can’t always see those things as tangible moments. As the days go by, it’s certainly getting harder to not let the “what ifs” run away with my imagination. I thought I had a grip on all of this, but this pregnancy after loss journey ordeal is no joke.

I’m currently flailing in a powerful current of guilt. It’s this ridiculously vicious cycle, made much more difficult to swim out of with the discomforts of late term pregnancy. It’s getting tougher each day, as my body reaches its maximum capacity and energy threshold. Most of it is common- the same stuff every other extremely pregnant woman likely feels. I want this rainbow baby out of me for the same reasons most mamas want the pregnancy to reach its end. Wanting him out of me, however, brings about this complicated guilt. This is what I wanted more than anything in the torturous months of trying to conceive, the only thing I thought that might make me see a future again as I grieved for Lucy. So I guilt myself: how dare I wish for the end of pregnancy, how dare I complain? There are many other obvious reasons for me wanting this boy to just get here though. The closer we get, the harder it is to push aside the fear that something else bad could happen to our baby.  Along with the Gestational Diabetes, I have excess amniotic fluid, known as a condition called Polyhydramnios. It impacts 1-2% of pregnancies. It seems that I’m really good at hitting that 1-2% of unlikely things in pregnancy. The same statistic sits with placental abruption, which is what caused us to lose Lucy. Speaking of that anomaly, it’s listed as one of the potential risks associated with Polyhydramnios. Huge, disconcerting red flag for me! Now, logically speaking, there typically isn’t too much cause for concern with this particular condition, but it’s impossible for me to buy into the whole ‘it’s nothing to worry about’ mindset with the unlikely experience of losing Lucy under my belt. The sooner this baby is here safely, the better we’ll all be. Chris and I have a meeting scheduled with the MFM specialist, and we’ll discuss with him whether an earlier scheduled delivery is a safer option than waiting. My docs at the OB practice are on board, but since we’re seeing the MFM specialist, he makes the final calls on everything. Perhaps we’re closer to our dream of bringing this rainbow boy home a little sooner than we thought. Fingers crossed!

My other guilt category has been the feeling of failing as a loss mama. Lucy’s birthday and Angelversary came and went and I feel as though I’ve failed her. Friday (her birthday) was primarily spent focused on her little brother. We had a diagnostic ultrasound that ended up being scheduled that day, then it was on to meet with one of the docs because I wasn’t feeling well, which is what led to the discussion about an earlier arrival, then on to phone calls trying to schedule an appointment to consult with the MFM doctor. I didn’t even get to burning Lucy’s candle. On her birthday. I did write her a letter and picked her a bouquet of fresh flowers, but that wasn’t enough. Saturday (her Angelversary), we had two events scheduled to attend, which took up the last half of the day. Being one of the few summer weekends left, everyone is scheduling things, and it was another reminder that life goes on, no matter what the date. It was a hard pill to swallow. In keeping so busy with everything else, there was little time to focus on Lucy. It hit me really hard yesterday, and the guilt has been eating away at me. I know that it doesn’t mean I love her any less, I know that it doesn’t mean I’m forgetting my baby… I know all of that, but it still hurts my heart.

One thing that helped me stay emotionally afloat yesterday was the realization of how many people took a moment to think about Lucy. I requested about a month ago that people paint rocks in honor of her and her birthday and then place them somewhere special or for someone else to find. Not only was there a heartwarming response to that, a lot of people sent messages and checked in with us to share that she was on their minds. Just when I start to worry that people are forgetting her, especially as we anticipate her brother’s arrival, I am reminded that she’s still very much alive in the hearts of many. I even had one person mention that whenever they’re at the edge of patience with their own child, they think of Lucy, and find ways to embrace the moments with their little one instead of losing their patience. Things like that help me realize that Lucy has had an impact and her life matters to more than just her parents and family. It’s a breath of fresh air, and deep down, I know she won’t be forgotten.

After writing some of this out, I feel better. I can do this. I can make it to this baby boy’s arrival, and I can maintain hope that everything is going to be okay. I have Lucy’s light to keep me positive, and the here-and-now knowledge that our little guy is just fine and is absolutely healthy, no matter how uncomfortable his anxious mama is. We’re almost there, one tiptoe at a time.

Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash