Quiet Milestones

Today. Today is the day.

Warning: This is a pregnancy post. There is no way around it.

Today I am 31 weeks and 5 days along in this pregnancy.

The last time I was 31 weeks and 5 days into my pregnancy, I had a quiet day planned, much like today. I don't remember much before 10 am, when I experienced that mysterious gushing and a few hours later, after going to work for an hour and making muffins for a family in our ward, I figured out that something wasn't right and I should probably go get checked.

What followed was one of the biggest nightmares and traumatic experiences of my life. Yes, we made it through, we survived, Kevin survived, and everyone is now healthy and happy (unless it is naptime or bedtime, that is).

But something about being a pregnant a second time is forcing me to relive many of those experiences and wonder why I didn't do things differently. I've always said that it would take more courage to have a second baby and now I am discovering that sometimes it is hard to muster that courage--even when you don't have any choice. Do I know enough now to do things differently this time around, or will I have to go through six IVs and not get my epidural until the very last second and then not be able to hold or nurse my baby right away again?

Is it even possible to plan for Italy when all you know is Holland?

So many questions. No answers.

Just a lot of waiting, hoping, and praying.

Every child is different, and so it follows that every pregnancy will be different. There have been some things that have been easier this time around (a significant decrease in morning sickness, better overall health, and not having to balance three jobs and a full class load with pregnancy) but also things that have been much more challenging than hourly dates with the toilet.

In addition to the blood sugar checks, abundance of appointments, daily insulin shots (total is nearing 350 shots I've given to myself in the last twelve weeks), weekly progesterone shots (which sometimes feel like getting stabbed with a three inch long quilting needle, depending on the nurse), carpal tunnel in my wrists, back pain, cramping, and other general pregnancy symptoms (I left many things out)...there is the mental game I have been playing with myself for the last few weeks.

It isn't just a general round of being depressed. It isn't that I've suddenly become a cussing queen (my grandpa would be proud) or that I have turned into an introvert who now struggles being in large crowds and holding conversations or being around people in general.

It's the fear and the knowledge that I have so little control over how this pregnancy will end. We have so many questions, the biggest of all being when will he come? But then there is also the question of if he will spend time in the NICU and how much time he will spend there and how we will balance everything if that is the case. There is the question of how big he will be and if I will be able to deliver vaginally or if we will be stuck with a C-section and how do you recover from that while taking care of a toddler and newborn all day? And how will Kevin handle all of this? Are we ruining her life, or making it better? And how do we balance a child at home and one in the hospital? And what happens when grandparent detox meets new baby brother meets a teething toddler? How will we survive?

For now, we have survived today. That is something. The hospital bag is halfway packed, the nursery is 80% put together, and we have a name picked out.

We aren't ready, but we are.