I would have been counting down the days to the due date since there were 90 left. Because that's what I do. I would have my amazing husband take photos of my growing belly even though it isn't quite flattering. But it is beautiful. It would have been beautiful.
By this time I would be wishing to lose the baby weight quickly and feel more like a normal person again. And then I would remember that the extra pounds were bringing a beautiful baby into the world. And it would be so worth it.
The baby would have a name.
The baby would have a room and his or her crib (the beautiful handmade one from Grandpa T) would be all set up and ready to welcome baby.
Wonder Woman would be beside herself with excitement. And I just might let her in the delivery room so that she won't be afraid of doing it herself one day. That might also work at cross-purposes.
I would be dreading the needles (if any were medically necessary) and planning to go drug-free this time. No induction. No epidural. That was my plan.
I would be ready and not ready all at once.
I would be elated and terrified.
I would be preparing for the torture of postpartum depression that I know would hit even before the baby was delivered. It has gotten increasingly worse with each baby. And it started even before delivery last time. But I know that God is good and merciful. Aside from His healing, man-made medicine is a wonderful thing too.
And can I just tell you that God absolutely blessed me with my amazing husband who walked me through each postpartum experience-even with the miscarriage. He prayed for me. He cared for me. He did all the things I could not do at the time. Every day I am more and more grateful for him.
We would be celebrating two birthdays in April and hopefully baby would not arrive on top of either one.
We still aren't pregnant again. We haven't been trying. Actually we've been trying not to become pregnant. And the only people who ask me if we will try to have another are the ones who have also miscarried. No one else asks. And really, I have no answer. I tell the kids that we will do whatever God tells us to do.
I held a baby for the first time yesterday. She reached for me. She was so happy with my sunglasses. First baby I've wanted to hold. And maybe it was because she wanted me.
Our youngest will soon turn 6. Tomorrow actually. And I know that having another after 6 years would be different and a challenge. Everything is so easy now. They can all help themselves in many ways.
And yet, I still long for that baby of mine. Our baby in heaven. Our angel baby.
I wrote a few weeks ago about the race I ran being a great distraction. Oh, how it was. Because now that it's over, the thoughts of how far along I would be fill my mind. Today would be 38 weeks. Baby would arrive any day. And now that the race is over, I find myself thinking about it much more.
Running is a great heartache reliever. And yet, when my feet stop pounding the pavement each day, the heartache eventually catches up to me. That pain that I was pounding away or running from...it returns.
It greets me in the morning in time to lace up my shoes one more time. And it returns at the sight of a beautiful, pregnant mom. It returns when I see a brand new baby in a car seat. It returns when I think about the due date coming up. I don't even think we had shared the due date with anyone yet. Maybe I'm keeping it to myself because, really, who wants to know the due date of the baby you miscarried?
We would be celebrating two birthdays in April and hopefully baby would not arrive on top of either one.
We still aren't pregnant again. We haven't been trying. Actually we've been trying not to become pregnant. And the only people who ask me if we will try to have another are the ones who have also miscarried. No one else asks. And really, I have no answer. I tell the kids that we will do whatever God tells us to do.
I held a baby for the first time yesterday. She reached for me. She was so happy with my sunglasses. First baby I've wanted to hold. And maybe it was because she wanted me.
Our youngest will soon turn 6. Tomorrow actually. And I know that having another after 6 years would be different and a challenge. Everything is so easy now. They can all help themselves in many ways.
And yet, I still long for that baby of mine. Our baby in heaven. Our angel baby.
I wrote a few weeks ago about the race I ran being a great distraction. Oh, how it was. Because now that it's over, the thoughts of how far along I would be fill my mind. Today would be 38 weeks. Baby would arrive any day. And now that the race is over, I find myself thinking about it much more.
Running is a great heartache reliever. And yet, when my feet stop pounding the pavement each day, the heartache eventually catches up to me. That pain that I was pounding away or running from...it returns.
It greets me in the morning in time to lace up my shoes one more time. And it returns at the sight of a beautiful, pregnant mom. It returns when I see a brand new baby in a car seat. It returns when I think about the due date coming up. I don't even think we had shared the due date with anyone yet. Maybe I'm keeping it to myself because, really, who wants to know the due date of the baby you miscarried?
So today I laced up again. Running to forget. Running to feel pain in my legs, and a little less of it in my heart.
I keep reminding myself that "God works all things together for our good"...I repeat it as my feet strike the pavement. A rhythmic reminder of His goodness, even in the pain.
I keep reminding myself that "God works all things together for our good"...I repeat it as my feet strike the pavement. A rhythmic reminder of His goodness, even in the pain.
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