Eye know

My son, this son, my second son, has the ability to look into your soul with his eyes. When he locks on my gaze, my heart skips a beat. In those eyes, I feel my first son looking out, letting us know, after these 3 years, we can let him go and feel joy without guilt.

Thank you all for reading, virtually holding my hand and just plain being there these last 3 years. This community is so vibrant and healing, the bloggers and readers come and go, but the reason we are here will continue on, unfortunately. Without this community, I am not sure how I would have survived and for that, I thank each and every one of you. I wish you peace and joy and love as life carries you each on your individual journey.

I didn't intend to drop off blogging after the birth of my son, but here I am. Taking care of him takes more out of me than I thought it would and it makes me happier than I thought I could be after November 7th, 2007. I keep feeling like I need to spend some time here, to tell the story of his birth and how terrifying it was to see him being bagged and the NICU team fill the room in the minutes after he was born. But I don't have that kind of time, at least I don't feel like I do right now. He is ok, he is healthy, that is end story here. He is here, his brother is not. I understand this now.

Here

Henry Bruce was born at 321, weighing in at 8 lbs, 0.2 ounces and 21 inches. "Hank" is here, healthy and safe.

Testing mobile blogging

Induction starts tonight. This is a check to make sure I can update from my phone. Hoping and praying the next update is wonderful.

Still here

I'm still here, still pregnant. If he doesn't show up this week, our induction is this Saturday. I'm having emotional trouble wrapping my brain around it, which translates into crying for hours at a time. Considering I am not a big crying (call me the ice queen), it's been a bit disturbing. I have been feeling like a failure for crying and "convincing" my doctor to induce because I'm an emotional wreck feeling like he would be safer now outside of this body.

I was calm with the doctor for 37 weeks, this was the first time I let crazy out of the box. I kept apologizing, I don't want to be the crazy woman who is asking for an induction because she is uncomfortable and hot. That's not it at all, in fact I feel great. In between the times I am poking at my belly hoping he is still alive, in between the times I wake up drenched in sweat after dreaming would we would do to the fully set up nursery if we had no baby to bring home, in between the times I have to shout at my brain to relax, that he is going to be ok, in between the times I feel his head where William's was and wonder if he is stuck and we are just seconds away from him dying like his brother did.

My doctor was great though, told me I am not that cliche induction requester at all (that woman comes in with tears and her dayplanner with the date and time in it). I told her I try to escape this mindfuck (she liked that word) and have been winning the battle for most of my pregnancy, but in these last few days and weeks, the mindfuck is winning the war. She is fine with it, provided I understand that it has about a 50% chance of turning into a C section since my cervix isn't doing anything and the baby isn't engaged yet (it may get better by Saturday). I have thought all along I would have a C section, so if he gets a vaginal exit, that's just bonus points. Birth plan, remember = Get him out alive by whatever means necessary.

So, here we are. The final frontier. Not racing to the finish line, but racing to the beginning of something awesome. A place where I need to stop thinking about if I will survive if he dies, but how the fuck I am going to parent. Or maybe, after he arrives safely, we can tackle that challenge.

Full

37 weeks today. "Officially" full term.

I admit, I have been wandering the last few weeks as a blissfully pregnant woman. Ignorant pregnant woman. Buying up all the stuff we need, receiving more gifts than I would have imagined without a typical shower. Allowing a "small" shower event during our last trip to the lake (which ended up not so small). M and I have navigated these last few weeks in awe. Wondering how we made it this far. Thinking we might actually have the golden ticket this time.

My doctor told me a week or so ago, that without the "weird placenta" she would call this a pretty normal pregnancy. The boy is growing well, not too big, not too small (60th percentile last scan), so the cord and the placenta have been doing their job. The gestational diabetes has been completely diet controlled. The blood pressure has been great (taken after I sit for the NST reading my book listening to his heartbeat helps). The previa went away quite some time ago. He moved from Frank Breech to Head down about 31ish weeks. Weight gain for me has been great, thanks to the GD (13 pounds total now, but I was overweight to start with, don't be too impressed). For all the monitoring and worry, this baby has been trooping right along.

So, we wait now. And now, as it becomes less of a dream and more of a reality, I am struggling to keep the bad thought demons at bay. I took my leave of this blogland to make it through and while I have been watching and reading, I haven't had it in me to remember the pain and to reach out and support others. Denial is a river I have been floating on to survive. Yet after my last appointment, where my doctor checked me for progress and immediately looked concerned that he was no longer head down (he is but off to the side a bit, no where near engaged in the pelvis), the demons are starting to win.

They are mocking me, making me regret these weeks of blissful ignorant pregnancy. Making me wonder what in the world I would do with all the stuff if he doesn't make it. Asking me to answer whether I could make it through if he doesn't make it, or whether the life I know would cease to exist. What doesn't kill makes you stronger, right? I wonder, what if he doesn't have room to move into my pelvis? His head is down and to the left, exactly where his brother was when he curled up and got stuck and died.

Yet, I know these are just demons and I can choose to pay attention to them and suffer these last few weeks or I can try not to give them power. Either way there is not much I can do about it, right? The boy isn't ready to be born yet. He is moving a lot and humors me every time I poke at him in my frantic search for life. He is being monitored once a week with an ultrasound and an NST.

We just have to wait. Like a book with alternative endings. The one for primetime (TADA! Baby!) and the others (the others). The other endings we won't give strength or power to. Come on little man, come on body, come on uterus, come on placenta, come on cord. Let's make this a ready for primetime story.

NST #1

I know exactly what maternity outfit I was wearing when I laid on the table and they found no heartbeat last time. I make it a point never, ever to wear it to my doctor appointments. Neurotic much?

My doctor was called away to do a C section as it started. Then the dude wanted to do somersaults so kept going off monitor. An hour later, they had enough data. Looks good, with a few lows. Which was explained as him possibly "sitting on his cord" or "tugging it" - but they didn't stay low and overall he looked good. Fluid check (was high normal last week) was normal. Blood Pressure looks great. Blood sugars are great, still no meds needed. Cleared to travel 4 hours away by car for the long weekend.

The "lows" are plaguing my brain. It's fine, right? Why do I have a nagging feeling that the cord is around his neck and the rolls he is doing is causing the lows?