It's Different Now...

In one week, I get to see my Baby Cinco again.  It will be for our anatomy scan.  During past pregnancies, I have always looked forward to this appointment the most.  It has always been the day we found out if we were having a boy or girl.

I've always been aware of the entire appointment.  All the measurements they take before revealing boy or girl.  We've always received comments like, "Things look great!" and "What a healthy looking baby(ies)."  And I've never thought alot about it.

But this one is different.  I know many, many things that they can find wrong.  I feel this appointment almost looming ahead.  I feel each moment as it's part of the last week of bliss.  I know, right now, at this moment, that Cinco is healthy.  This time next week, I know our world could be turned upside down, once again.  And I hate knowing all this.  I miss the naive excitement that used to come with the approaching anatomy scan.

I am scared terrified at times.  I talk to Cinco several times a day.  Tell him/her how I much I love every moment, every movement.  I hold onto those movements so tight.  Knowing that she/he is still alive and moving around.  And yet, part of me knows that even though I feel the movement, it doesn't neccessarily mean Cinco is healthy.  I don't like being Debbie Downer, I just know the reality of it all. 

My goal for this next week is to enjoy the blissfullness.  To really embrace each moment.  Living in fear is not how the Lord wants us to live.  I try to remember that, and am grateful for those around me who remind me of that.  Every night as I pray for Cinco's health, I also pray for peace in this pregnancy. 

How do you feel as days like this approach?  If you have your rainbow baby in your arms, did you feel similar?  Did it get better or worse as delivery day approached? 

How many??

I am sure this is a topic that will be written on often here.  It is one of the inevitable questions we all receive, and like so many other aspects of this journey, it becomes a little tougher when you are expecting your rainbow baby.

How many kids do you have?  What number does this baby make?  I always like to imagine seeing the look on someone's face when I am with Colton and Ethan, and they ask me those questions.  If I answer baby number 5, I am sure they would gasp.  They would probably whisper about me to the person they were with, thinking I must not know how to keep my legs shut.  Or they would simply ask where the other two are, how old they are, and if they were boys or girls.

I will probably often stick to a simple answer that will bring only a smile.  This will be my third baby to enjoy, I  hope.  Or something along those lines.   I feel very protective of Lucas and Caleb. Only those who are going to be close to me are privileged enough to know about them.  It took me 10 months to tell the PTA board, people I see several times a month, about them.  And even then it was hard.  I still didn't feel ready, or all them deserving.  My babies are precious to me.  Their memories and ashes are all I have here of them.   But then, how do you backtrack and announce your Heavenly babies?  "You know, a year ago when I met you, I said I had two kids?  Well actually I had four then but two died, and we are expecting number 5."

I thought these question would become easier after conceiving Cinco.  Instead they are harder in ways.  We're expecting another baby, yes.  But I don't feel like I can say we're having another baby.  I can't put into words my lack of excitement as I talk about expecting another, without introducing Lucas and Caleb.  And still I feel like some might look at me as being ungrateful, unappreciative because I'm not announcing from the rooftops with glee.  They probably can't see how tight I am holding onto this baby, how long I hoped and prayed for this baby.  And how I know all too well how fragile this little life inside of me truly is.

I get all these comments now about having a third baby.  How a third child changes everything.  And at times, I just want to scream out, "Well, I should have skipped number three and gone from two to four."  But I just smile and nod.  I know so many don't even know the depth of what they are saying.  I get that, but it is still frustrating at times.  Yes, Cinco will, hopefully, be my third living child.  But she/he will always be my fifth baby.

How do you talk about the number of children you have?  Has it changed since you've conceived or delivered your rainbow baby?  How do you feel when others don't know about your missing child(ren), and they comment on having X number of kids?

Also, there have been some troubles with commenting here and there.  Please let us know if you experience any problems.

Emotional Balance

I'm Angela, I blog over at Little Bird, and I'm really excited to be part of Among the Circle.  My daughter, Charlotte, was born on May 14, 2010.  She died shortly after birth, cause unknown, one of life's mysteries that we've had to learn to live with and accept. On September 9, 2011, our second child, Bennett, was born.

My second pregnancy was full of anxiety, worry, and fear, but there were good moments too.  I enjoyed carrying life again.  I was happy to have a second chance to parent a living child, one I could hold in my arms and watch grow.

When I was pregnant with Bennett I had to take things slowly.  It was too overwhelming to think about September, his due date, his birth, so I focused on one small goal at a time - the next appointment with the specialist, ultrasound, prenatal with my midwife.  I focused on making it to 6, then 7, then 8 weeks, ticking each one off as it slowly went by.  I didn't think about the second or third trimester, or how I would handle the anxiety of birth.  I kept my head down, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

As baby loss parents we know the sacredness of time in the womb.  24 weeks is better than 20, 35 better than 30 etc.  We understand the thin line that exists between life and death, and how a pregnancy, or birth, can change so quickly from fine to broken it leaves one breathless.  We carry that with us throughout our subsequent pregnancies. The constant presence of fear haunts us, so intense we accept it into our lives as real, a shadow that will walk with us through this time in our lives.

Because of when we lost Charlotte I was worried thirty-eight to forty weeks would be the only time we had with Bennett.  I didn't want to spend those weeks in a constant state of fear.  I wanted to enjoy my time with him just in case it was all I had.

I had to find a way to mesh the fear and joy together, to force them to hold hands and coexist so I could make it through my long thirty-nine week pregnancy.  I prayed, listened to Hypnobabies joyful pregnancy affirmations and fear clearing tracks (highly recommend), blogged and blogged and blogged, cried on my midwife's shoulder, cried with my husband, laughed with friends.

Pregnancy after loss is a balancing act.  It's hard to live in limbo, to always be mindful of what can go wrong while trying to enjoy the miracle of growing a life.  Much of the time I felt like I couldn't find the happiness.  It was hard to feel positive and believe everything would be fine, but it would have been too emotionally taxing to be terrified for thirty-nine weeks.  Sometimes I had to force myself to rise from the watery depths of fear and take huge gulping lung filling breaths of happiness, which gave me enough oxygen to make it to the next goal: one more day done, one more week gone, each moment moving me closer to meeting my baby.

What have your moments of happiness been this pregnancy?  How about fear?  Do you feel like you can enjoy your pregnancy, or are you simply counting down the days to delivery?