My Third Trimester Bump

This past Saturday marked 30 weeks gestation for our little Bacon Bit. Every week continues to be a blessing, an affirmation of hope.

And every week brings us a bit closer to holding our little boy. The thought makes my heart swell.

And the thought makes my heart ache.

Yesterday, John Blaise would have turned five had he arrived on his due date instead of months early. Is there a way to think of him without considering his brother growing inside me? How can I think of the child wiggling in my womb without thinking of his brothers, all of them? How can I think of any of my tiny boys without longing?

All is well. But this is still a pregnancy after loss. After three losses. A normal pregnancy is a lot to process. A pregnancy after loss is… complicated. Though this is a different baby with a different story, it is hard not to compare to previous experiences. And with a history of “less than favorable” experiences, keeping anxiety at bay can be a hard, full-time occupation. It’s exhausting.

* * * * *

Friends keep asking if I’ve been writing. “I bet you have a lot of material,” I hear. But, no, the words have been reluctant. I don’t write easily while pregnant. I never have. I used to write it off as a side effect of morning sickness and exhaustion. But this time, feeling pretty well throughout, I’ve figured that while growing a baby, I put all my creative energy into wrapping my mind around “baby logistics”: where will the crib go? What do we need? What should we name him? And on and on.

And here I am with ten thousand things on my to-do list, trying hard to focus on doing “the next best thing,” writing a blog post. Because this is important too. I need to put it out there and say …

Yes, I’m hopeful… but I’m also haunted by past experiences.

I’m excited…but I’m also overwhelmed.

I want to celebrate this baby… but I need my boys in heaven to be remembered too.

I am grateful I have a healthy appetite… but between heartburn and other pregnancy dietary restrictions, eating is a chore.

My back is tired. I am tired. Seeing as how I’m waking every 2 hours as it is, bring on the newborn sleep.

I am not at all ready for baby to be born — he’s not done cooking, and we have too much to do!— …but I physically ache to hold him in my arms.

Yes, I’m ok with the necessity of a cesarean delivery this time…but I can’t help but fixate on certain details beyond my control.

I’m broken in many ways. But I’m doing OK.

* * * * *

Today has been a long, less than productive day after a long, less than restful night. And yet, it’s another day that I’ve carried this little boy closer to term.

So that makes it a good day.