A Sigh of Relief

The days leading up to Easter were stressful.  I don't mean that in a I'm-saying-I-was-stressed-to-emphasize-how-busy-I-am kind of stressed. No. It was more of I'm so stressed I can't focus or sleep kind of stressed.  Not only were we hosting Easter dinner at our house, which now totals 17 with kids and spouses and long time girlfriends, but I had a lot going on at work too.  More than all of that though, I haven't felt Carter move at all and at eighteen weeks it was really starting to flip me out.

With both of my other two pregnancies I was feeling all the flutters, and with Jack-full on kicks by that point.  I wasn't saying anything much about it the last few weeks but full on panic set in.  I kept telling myself 'everything is fine, all the tests have come back great, this is different than last time' but I couldn't convince the fear building.  It didn't help that Kennedy, playing the day before, looked up at me and, in her she-can't-possibly-be-younger-than-twelve-way said, "I am so excited we are getting a baby! We have never got a baby that's didn't die before!" All I could choke out is, "I know, love."  And so, by the end of last week, I broke down and called the doctor and left a panicked message on my way to work.  She called back quickly but by then I was absolute hysterics to the point that I could barely form words and she thought the call was breaking up.  She told me I could come in a little later that morning and they would do an ultrasound for some reassurance.  I sat in my car and sobbed in the parking lot for a good ten minutes trying to get myself together before my friend pulled up and saw what a mess I was.  She stood with me and let me cry for a few more minutes before we made our way into work to face whatever the day brought.  

I left for my appointment, terrified does not even do what I was feeling justice.  Was I prepared for awful news? Was I ready for this to be over?  Sean was stuck on a meeting and didn't know if he'd make it there in time to meet me.  He didn't get to be there for the ultrasound and as I walked back my feet felt like that weighed a thousand pounds apiece.  The tech got me set up and there he was, moving around, clear as day.  And yet, I felt nothing.  As the tech talked to me and pointed a bunch of things out I was too distracted to take in, I wondered to myself  ‘Is my brain blocking this out? Preventing me from feeling anything?'  Two years ago I was struggling as it kept sending me signals or memories, that had me thinking I could still feel little kicks-the little kicks of Jack, so was it confused again, this time telling me that there's nothing happening?   I tuned back in just in time to here the tech say, "Yup, there's the placenta in the front, it's acting like a barrier or a pillow, muffling the feeling."  Just like that I could breathe again.  I wasn't crazy-or not as crazy as I'd just convinced myself I was. 

When I got out to the waiting room Sean was just flying through the door, a look of panic on his face.  But quickly I could tell he read my face and saw, all was fine.  We waited to see a doctor or nurse practitioner for a while, clearly seeing they had done some shuffling to squeeze me in.  We saw an NP who looked to be about twenty-four.  As she reiterated what the ultrasound tech had told me I started to cry. Sob, really.  She assured me by all accounts from everything they could see and tell this pregnancy was going great.  "I just can't make myself believe any of you, I want to, but I'm just so afraid, all of time," I choked out. What she said, as she hugged me-clearly getting overwhelmed by my emotional display, finally settled me.  "You're doing the best you can, and that's enough," she gently reassured me.  

After that ordeal I was able to collect myself and finish out the week, buying Easter basket stuffings for all of the kiddos, buy the food, finish up a hellish-week-before-a-break school week, and dye the eggs.  Saturday came we watched April the giraffe give birth, Kennedy completely enamored, asking all kinds of awkward questions, and subsequently having all of her toy animals have babies.  With my parents entertaining Kennedy for most of the day, I set the tables, did as much prep as I could, stuffed baskets, and just about collapsed into bed that night.  

When Sunday rolled around we were ready to do all things holiday.  Kennedy was up and out of bed and all eighteen eggs found within 10 minutes.  She sorted through her basket-giving the Bunny her stamp of approval (trust me, these days that is hard to come by).  We showered, dressed up for the eighty-degree day and made our way to Jack.  

I don't know why, but sunny days at a cemetery seem harder than rainy ones.  It's like the feelings don't match the weather.  So as the sun shone brightly my girl "hugged" her brother and told him she found his egg with his name on it for him.  As I watched her, Sean took a picture of me.  Kennedy was in it, Jack’s headstone and my big ole belly. My kids: in all three stages of life. 

We were all together, or as together as we could be.  As we drove home to wait for company, Kennedy said in a quiet voice, "I really hope Carter doesn't die like Jack did, don't you Mommy?"  Again, my voice caught in my throat, I worked up the nerve to say to her, "it's going to be different this time, sweet girl," praying that God was listening to me still and could make it so.  

So, the family came, the fun was had, the food was eaten, the laughs were laughed, eyes were rolled, and we took in the rare time when we were all together.  

And this week?  This week is for resting. For catching my breath that had been held too long.  For a sigh of relief.  This week is for outside days and all the chalk we can stand.  But these treasure chests where you "dig" for treasure from Target? The devil. (As evidenced by the chalked smeared on my porch, driveway, and several outfits)