Ups and Downs

I'm 27 weeks and a few days pregnant.  Almost into the 3rd trimester.  About 88 days from my due date.  Wow. Just wow.  After the first trimester crept by, I can't believe that I'm actually here, or that my belly is here.  I've gotten immune to its size and don't see too many changes, but everyone else certainly does.  The most recent and awkward development: putting on shoes/boots has become quite a challenge.  As y'all know, I love shoes.  I love boots even more.  As we would say as kids, if I could marry boots, I would.  DH thinks my obsession with boots is wrong; I contend that this obsession is only wrong if I spend my whole paycheck on the Tory Burch brown riding boots that I want. Or the tall Frye riding boots.  Which I won't, because well, the boots won't help outfit the baby or finish the nursery or buy people Christmas presents.  But I digress...

This week has finally brought cool enough weather where I felt ok wearing boots and leggings.  My internal space heater (aka Baby Boy) determines my wardrobe, and I'm pretty sure I will not wear a coat at all this season.  So, on Monday, I went to pull on my fav gray boots.  Temp outside: low 40s.  Fan on in bedroom.  Oh. My. Goodness.  First of all, no position is comfortable when leaning over belly to pull on said boots.  Commence side laying on bed trying to pull on boots.  Commence J sweating like mad (in her skinny black pants and bra).  I'm sure this would have been a video to see on America's Funniest Home Videos.  And to top it off...I lost all my socks in the move, so I had to take my boots off at work to change my socks! (I work with my mom and she brought me socks. I love that woman.  Who else would bring you trouser socks at 7:30 am?!)  I told one of my non-prego BFFs this story and she died laughing.  I really think women should be warned about the boot-pulling-on struggles of pregnancy (she says tongue-in-cheek, realizing that she would give anything to have these struggles again).

*********************************************************************

Yesterday, DH and I went to church.  We've been attending this church since we started dating again, 7 and a half years ago.  We often see a family with a severely handicapped child.  This boy has grown so much since we started attending, but he's wheelchair bound with clear mental and physical handicaps.  DH has always had a soft spot for mentally handicapped children.  Whenever we talked about pregnancy, we talked about these possibilities, about wanting to have babies but worried about the risks as well.  With Baby Boy, we declined the NT scan and we declined any bloodwork to test for issues.  We had faith in Dr. N's basic assessment that everything looks amazing.  Why did we decline? Well, I couldn't and wouldn't have changed Baby Boy's fate.  One of my students said in class last Friday (in reference to the TLC show about the girls who share a body) that she would've never wanted to give birth to a child like that.  I told her that you think that until you see a heartbeat on the ultrasound, and you know in your heart that you could never, ever, kill that heartbeat, that little pod-shaped baby. 

I was catching up on my blogs last night and read an update by L.  I'd link her blog here, but she's private now and I don't want to compromise that.  She got "bad" blood test results from her 12 week bloodwork.  There is the possibility of neural tube defects or placental defects.  I have faith for her that everything will work out, because without this faith, I would have nothing, and because I've read so many stories where the tests are inaccurate and a level 2 ultrasound shows no issues.  But reading the post kind of threw me for a loop.  DH was out at a friend's house and when he came home, I started crying. I told him I know we made the decision to decline the tests, but that having a baby with "issues" scared me, scared me because I didn't want to lose DH over the difficulties of a less-than-healthy baby.

He surprised me in his answer.  While he held me, he told me this story.  He said that at church that morning, he was looking at the handicapped boy and he saw the boy looking up at his dad with such love.  He said he realized then that though the boy was handicapped, it didn't change the relationship he had with his dad, and that whatever comes with Baby Boy, we will accept and move on with life, however different that life may be.  He couldn't have said anything better.  Though I may still be anxious until I see my boy, I've realized that with DH and faith, life will go on. 

My thoughts and prayers go out to L as she endures the week before her level 2 ultrasound.  As I go through my day today--vacation started!--she won't be far from my thoughts, especially when I'm at my prenatal appt.  I'm sure I'll ask Dr. N. about these things, because that's just what I do.  I continue to pray that things keep going well for us and Baby Boy.  My boys are the best part of my life, and this week, more than anything else, I'm so, so thankful for them.  I can't imagine going through life without either DH or Baby Boy.  It's amazing that 27 weeks can change our perspective on life and love.