This morning it was confirmed. I'm pregnant! We're having another baby! This blog will be delayed for a few weeks while we try to make it to 12 weeks, and then I'll publish them all at once for you to catch up.
With the positive test this morning there is, of course, immeasurable joy but there is also fear. Not the fear of handling a third baby, or the fear of morning sickness or labor and delivery but the fear that every parent holds in their heart that something might happen to your child and family.
During my first pregnancy, I was blissfully unaware of the complications that could occur. I was sick as a dog, throwing up for 28 weeks, losing 17 pounds in the first trimester, vomiting at work, vomiting in the car sick. I was miserable, and hated life, angry at this thing inside me causing so much pain. I still think that was horrific, but I no longer fear the all-day sickness.
During my second pregnancy, a friend lost her baby at 8 months, just a few days before Chester was born. Another friend's baby arrived months early with serious long term health complications. The speaker at MOPS shared her story of losing one twin during delivery. My friend's cousin's newborn recently passed away. This all rocked my safe little world. People I knew and loved had been in my shoes, happily expecting and loving their new babies, only to have unimaginable heartache ruin the happiest times of their lives.
Last week a toddler was found in a running car, her mother found dead in a pond nearby. I imagine her last moments, begging her killer to spare her baby. Tonight I heard an interview on the evening news from a man in one of those deadly tornadoes this week. As he was grabbing his baby out of bed during the storm, the wall collapsed and the bed and baby were sucked out of his reach. My stomach turns, and my heart cries out for someone I don't even know because as a parent, that could be my baby. Every baby could be my baby. Every baby is my baby.
I look at Chester, and know he was supposed to share the name of the baby who passed. I think of BCS and how we should be having playdates together. I cannot understand my friend's sorrow, but I do grieve with her. I wonder if we're tempting fate by adding to our family of perfect (rowdy, but still perfect) little boys. Are we due for some heartache ourselves?
In order to function in everyday normal life, I push those fears down and keep them reasonable, though they never entirely go away. I pray to God to protect my family, and thank Him for his love and grace in our lives. I live in the happy moments we're creating rather than the terrible moments that probably won't even happen. Someone summed it up "As a parent your heart walks around outside your body"