Petrified...

So here I am approaching the end of yet another pregnancy.  I could potentially deliver our little one in just three more weeks.  The end of this journey brings such different fears than that with Larissa.  I was petrified for delivery with Larissa as she was our first, so of course, all the unknowns of labor and delivery danced in my head.  Now, I still worry about labor and delivery, but for other reasons.  To me, the labor and delivery was the easy part and I get very irritated when I hear women complain about it.  After all, why do they have a right to bitch?  They got to take home the prize at the end of their journey.  Which is obviously where my fears and anxieties stem from at this point in our journey.  I am petrified that even if we get to the delivery unit and there is a heartbeat (awww, that wonderful sound of life inside of me), I am scared that something will happen during labor and delivery and we will lose our second born.  Because when your firstborn is stillborn it changes you as a mother.  I am now convinced that my body has failed me once, why can't it fail me again? 

I look back at my pregnancy with Larissa and how upset I was with my mother-in-law at the end whom wanted to come into the delivery unit with me.  I was also worried about letting loose with my bowels during labor and delivery.  I laugh at that now and WISH, oh how I WISH, they were my worries.  Now, when I hear other ladies' trivial concerns, I politely smile and walk away.  I cannot be bothered with such nonsensical worries....having a bowel movement during delivery is no big deal if you get to take your child home with you and share a lifetime with him or her. 

To further add salt to injuries, the stories of mom's whom have endured multiple losses keeps me grounded in reality, that no matter what any medical professional and/or friend, family member or confidant tells me...lightening can indeed strike twice.  I have listened to other parent's stories of multiple loss and although everyone thinks it will never happen to them, I now TRULY know that I am no more special than any other person and lightening can very well strike me twice also.  Larissa's death has taught me that all those cliche sayings (i.e. God doesn't give you more than you can handle: Everything happens for a reason, etc) are just coping mechanisms.  These are sayings we tell ourselves to help us cope and get us through the shittier times in our lives.  

I reflect upon November of 2010 when I gave birth to Larissa.  Although the day was extremely traumatizing, I can still feel the weight of her in my arms.  I long for that again and know that we are so very close.  This time I pray for a happier ending.  I pray that when our little one enters this world we will hear that ear piercing cry...which will be music to our ears and will, I imagine, forever stay with us.  Larissa is thought about each and every day and I wish she was here to know that she is going to be a big sister.  Potentially (if I opt for early delivery), in just three short weeks I will hopefully feel the weight of another little one in my arms.  This time I pray that our baby is filled with life, squirming, crying, fussing, what have you.  I admire the 4D ultrasounds which is like looking at a snapshot of inside my uterus.  These photos are a tease...I need to see and hold this live, healthy baby. 

Oh, we are SO very close, but I also know what a difference a day makes and I try to believe that all will be well.  However, until our little one is home with us, I cannot feel confident that we are in the clear.  I won't give up hope, but I am guarded and cautious.  See, three weeks seems like a short time, but when you think about how many breaths we take each day and how precious each of those breaths truly are, three weeks is a VERY long time.