Cravings: Cereal (Crispix is my obsession at the moment)
Bump: No – and it makes me sad. Where is my bump? I don’t want to look “thick” anymore.
Latest Project: Getting Daddy to like ONE name I suggest!
Nursery Status: Ummm, what nursery? I have a bookshelf and table painted. That’s it.
Fear: I won’t be able to stay on my feet long enough to get through my current work project.
Excitement: Listening to your heartbeat – I try to only bother you every other day but it’s hard!
Complaint: I am soooo tired.
This week was a struggle. I struggle to not beat myself up. I struggle to not dwell on things I can’t control – to embrace that my emotions are okay. To remind myself that my daily pain is acceptable.
It has been four months since we lost our baby. And although I am beyond overjoyed about our new addition, I am still struggling with the loss of our first. A day doesn’t pass that I am not aware of the missing piece to our family puzzle. Silly things, like buying two baby Halloween pumpkins instead of one, prove that neither of us have completely moved on from the sorrow of this summer. And every car ride provides a song about loss that is still capable of moving me to tears.
Sometimes I begin to feel as though I am being ungrateful. As if I don’t appreciate the new opportunity that was given to me; to us. But I do, more than words can express. I thought that conceiving again would repair the broken part of my soul but it hasn’t. Now I have a huge part of me that is unbelievably happy and excited AND a second part that I keep hidden for quiet drives in the car – times when I can mourn without feeling like a horrible person, an ungrateful woman, and a bad mother. Because I get it. I know just how lucky we are. I understand how many people would die to be in our position.
I just can’t help it. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that my pain is okay. It is a daily struggle.
We got to see you again today. You actually wiggled around for us and we got to spend a few precious moments watching you dance. It is amazing how much you have grown in the past almost three weeks. It was easy to make out your tiny limbs and strong heart beat.
The crazy part is that I didn’t want to see you. I laid in bed that morning sobbing- begging your daddy to not make me go to the appointment – knowing that we would anyway. I was afraid you hadn’t kept your part of the agreement. I was terrified that you had left me and I knew I wasn’t capable of dealing with that loss. My broken soul couldn’t handle the pain of saying good bye to you so I wanted to stay in bed – to hold on to you for one more day or even hour.
But there you were – all 21 millimeters of you. Moving around with excitement. It was, as if, you were trying to say ‘I told you so’. You kept your part of the bargain. You had grown and your little heart continued to beat in a soothing rhythm.
Now I worry about keeping you in there long enough. I will sit with my legs crossed for the next 30 weeks, if necessary. But ultimately, I promised your daddy one thing: To keep you warm. And I will do that will all my heart until the day you decide to meet us.
Ps- Your daddy says good night to you every night before we go to sleep. When you are a teenager and decide it isn’t cool to hug in public, remember he has been kissing you good night since the day you were a fuzz.
Daddy and I got to meet you for the first time today. To be honest, I was terrified. Terrified you would be too little or unhealthy. Terrified that we had already lost you.
Well, you were little. Less than a centimeter long but your heartbeat was loud and clear. It was a scary sound; it was small but determined. I couldn’t help but fall in love. Falling in love is what scares me. What if you leave me?
Please don’t leave me. I will suffer many more nights of “morning” sickness and days of anxiety waiting for test results. I promise to not complain, if you promise to keep growing – slowly but determinedly. Can we please come to an agreement?
Your daddy and I are expecting you as an anniversary gift.
Give Me Love
Just so you know, you got your moniker because your momma is a terrible liar. Some see it as a flaw but you should see it has a guaranty that your momma will always tell you the truth. It all started because I was supposed to race your daddy in the annual Duluth Marathon. Luckily, I had a nagging feeling that I would be expecting you so I didn’t register for the race. Daddy and I were planning on racing auntie T and Grandpa K but now we had to think of a way to tell them that I wouldn’t be racing. Your daddy decided that it would be best to say momma had pulled a hamstring.
You see, I knew it would be hard to get that one past Grandma K. She would have all kinds of questions and concerns. And my smile couldn’t hide from any of them. As soon as the “official story” had come out of my mouth, she wanted to know the unofficial story. Over the course of the weekend, I fielded a plethora of scarcastic “how’s the hammie?” questions and jokes. Your auntie T may have noticed but never let on.
Daddy and I decided that we liked the nickname and continue to call you Hammie. You are my cooking hammie, who will stay nice and toasty until you are fully cooked.