Dear baby,

Baby, this is my first official post to you.  Finally, with only 10 days left until your scheduled birth, I feel hopeful enough that we just might be able to take you home, get to know you and watch you grow.  I'm nervous, scared, stressed, filled with anticipation, hopeful and excited all in one.  Wondering how it will be to be celebrating your daddy's birthday, shortly after yours, with you in our home.  How will life be different?  I hope that I never lose sight of what blessings you and your sister have brought us.  I see you being a team, to teach us about love, about loss, and about having hope and faith.

Physically, you're really starting to wear me down.  How I ever made it to 40 weeks with your brother Logan, I'll never know...  I ache, I hurt, I'm extremely tired, and ready to hold you on the outside rather than in my belly.  Emotionally, you make me a mess.  Not being able to see you with my eyes makes me a little uneasy.  If I could see you on the outside, I'd be able to see if you're in trouble.  Now I just do everything I know to do to monitor you to make sure you're safe.  In addition to our bi-weekly BPPs and NSTs, I pay close attention to kicks, movement patterns, and hiccups, in addition to monitoring  your heartrate from home whenever I'm worried.  The medical world isn't necessarily helping matters.  I understand that the umbilical cord provides you with nourishment.  It helps you grow.  It helps deliver all the nutrients to make you healthy.  BUT, I see it also as a threat - a big threat.  The thing that literally turned on your sister.  Now, I don't like it.  I don't trust it.  Despite it's "good", I see it as the enemy.  SO, when I ask sonographers (in particular) about it's position in relation to baby, they (the sonographers) either avoid the question, pretend they didn't hear it, feed me the same response each time (like it's all gathered in front of the baby's belly) or tell me flat out that they won't tell me.  To them, it's not a threat.  "Babies are born wrapped in it all the time and it's rarely ever an issue." they tell me.  But rarely doesn't say that it DOESN'T happen....and I struggle with what position to take.  Maybe I do need to relax and trust that everyone knows what they're doing...??  Or maybe I need to fight to have ALL the answers to ensure my baby's safe delivery....?  I've concluded that I need to maintain partial sanity through all of this, so I'll try to have more faith that the bi-weekly monitoring will catch any problems...up until delivery.  Then I think I'll want to know... We'll see what they say next week at our last look at you from the inside... then I'll want to know it all...I'll want to be prepared for anything. 

Despite all the worry, the fear, the aches and pains though, baby, I'm really truly excited to meet you.  I'm excited to see your daddy scoop you up into his arms just as he did for Logan and Brynlee.  I'm excited for Logan to be your big brother, and to have the opportunity to talk to you all about your sister Brynlee, so that you may know of her, and know of our eternal family and that we will all be reunited again.  Honestly though, baby, I can't help but think that you already know of your sister Brynlee, again that you're a team!, you already know of Heavenly Father's plan for us.  Of course, you won't remember this for long, but that's where I'll help you remember and know that each child born unto us is a blessing, whether here or in heaven. 

Baby, as I sit here, I feel your kicks.  I feel contractions - ones I'm sure won't lead us anywhere, but I'm excited that it means my body is getting ready.  I'm excited to finally be excited!  As I've said before, I feel many times like pregnancy is too raw to me now.  It's not all sunshine and flowers anymore, because I've learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed.  Being pregnant, no matter how far along you are, does not always equal a baby in your arms as you walk out of the hospital.  However, ever so slowly, we're gaining hope.  With each morning as I feel your kicks, I thank God that you have lived another night....each day bringing us increased "sunshine" and hope that maybe this time, it'll all be ok.  Sure, we still have plenty of fear, but to feel this anticipation and excitement starting to swell, I'm grateful to finally experience  some of these feelings.

We already love you so much!  We can't wait to see your sweet face....to see who you resemble the most.  To hold you.  To sing to you.  To cuddle with you.  To watch you grow.  To see how our family dynamics change with you in it.  Be strong in there!  Only 10 more days before we come to rescue you! :)

Much love,
your Momma
xoxo