My intention for the last eight weeks had been to create posts and save them in draft form until I was ready to publish them. We found out in May that we are expecting a new little one to join our family in January. I had wanted to carefully document our experiences and feelings during these last two months so I could share them in a back-dated series once we were prepared to share that news. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. Here I am, three days before our first ultrasound, and I am just now sitting down to put words to my feelings. I didn't want to wait until after the ultrasound because I'm not sure I would still be able to accurately capture all that has been going through my head after that point, so I want to do it now. (Though, by the time you are reading this we will have had the ultrasound and will have a better idea of what path we will be walking from here.)
I know there are plenty who are going to have opinions regarding our timing and say that it's been too soon since we had Aaron. To that, I can only say that our lives apparently run on God's timing. Given that I know my own heart and where my own fears were leading me, I have to trust that He had a hand in the timing for one reason or another.
For the first six weeks, I didn't even want to call the doctor's office because I knew that would make it feel too real. I know that isn't going to make any sense to anyone who hasn't been there, but in my mind...once I called the doctor, that started a countdown to the day when we would have to go in and have an ultrasound that would tell us whether this new life was one we got to keep or another where we had to say goodbye. (Even the woman who set up my appointments was a little irritated that I had waited over a month to call in...but how do you adequately explain to someone that just making the phone call nearly sent me into a panic attack without sounding like a lunatic?)
Turns out, I was exactly right. I was initially so positive and felt so certain that we would be blessed with a healthy baby this time. As time goes on, I become more and more convinced that we are going to have to figure out how to make it through all the agony again because we aren't going to get to keep this baby.
When I let my mind wander and I think about having to walk into the doctor's office and into that ultrasound room, I usually have to stop myself because my chest gets tight and it takes everything I have not to completely fall apart. That day was easily the worst day of our lives...worse than the day he died, worse than the day we said good bye, worse than the funeral. There was nothing good that happened that day - our rug was yanked out from under us with no cushion whatsoever. When he was born, we got the joy of seeing our son for the first time. When we said goodbye, we had the memories of the time we spent with him. When we buried him, we had the peace of knowing he was at rest. I remember practically every detail of what happened leading up to the words our doctor said...and as I think about going in for this next ultrasound, those are the moment that keep playing over and over in my mind. (As a matter of fact, after just typing this paragraph, I had to get up and walk away from this entry for a little while.)
As we approach the twelve week mark, there are only four people besides the two of us that know I am pregnant. Two are close friends that have been unbelievable pillars of support for me, one is a woman who has also been incredibly supportive since we received Aaron's diagnosis, and the other had a whole different set of reasons behind my choice to share. We plan to share our news at some point after Wednesday's ultrasound, but this gives us a chance to make sure that we are able to process whatever we see before we are pressured to share with other family and friends.
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