With Sadie and Sawyer I always wrote a little blog before heading off to the 20-week ultrasound predicting the sex of the baby. I've been right every time so far, which makes me think I'm due to be wrong for once. Which would be okay with me.
Honestly, the sex doesn't matter to us in any way, whatsoever.
The 20-week ultrasound now represents the health of this baby and of the pregnancy and we are hoping and praying for good, no - great news all around.
The echo of the baby's heart that we had 10 days ago was promising, so although we are very cautious - our hopes are high.
Oh and for the record...
I think it's a girl.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Groundhog's Day Blizzard 2011
These pictures are in chronological order from Monday, January 31st to Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011. All pictures taken in Channahon, IL 50 miles southwest of Chicago.
The bitter pill
*NEWSFLASH*
Of course I'm happy about our new baby. No shit.
But to say that the happiness isn't constantly interrupted by thoughts of gloom and doom isn't so far off either. Every day I'm grateful and every single minute I'm cautiously optimistic.
It's a horrible feeling to sit through your pregnancy and wonder if you're baby is going to die again. It's a form of suffering that is almost unbearable, until you feel a tiny poke from that miracle growing inside of you. It's a constant emotional battle with myself.
It's been eight months since I last held Sawyer in my arms. Eight months since I had to hand off my only son to a total stranger carrying a little black coffin.
Yeah, sure.
Eight months. But that's not anything. It's a blip in the timeline of my grief.
And guess what?
I'm bitter. I'm pissed off.
You would be too if you were completely screwed out of a lifetime of kisses, midnight feedings or the sweet smell of a newborn's head. And then I see everyone bitching constantly about the woes of parenthood, their jobs and life in general. I literally can't stand it anymore.
So in my bitterness I've sort of resorted to this smart-ass mentality. And that's how I'm dealing with things - I make no apologies for it.
If that's a problem for you - you have some choices.
You can ignore me, bear with me, try to understand or leave me alone.
This isn't easy for me. And I am trying so hard to just try.
Of course I'm happy about our new baby. No shit.
But to say that the happiness isn't constantly interrupted by thoughts of gloom and doom isn't so far off either. Every day I'm grateful and every single minute I'm cautiously optimistic.
It's a horrible feeling to sit through your pregnancy and wonder if you're baby is going to die again. It's a form of suffering that is almost unbearable, until you feel a tiny poke from that miracle growing inside of you. It's a constant emotional battle with myself.
It's been eight months since I last held Sawyer in my arms. Eight months since I had to hand off my only son to a total stranger carrying a little black coffin.
Yeah, sure.
Eight months. But that's not anything. It's a blip in the timeline of my grief.
And guess what?
I'm bitter. I'm pissed off.
You would be too if you were completely screwed out of a lifetime of kisses, midnight feedings or the sweet smell of a newborn's head. And then I see everyone bitching constantly about the woes of parenthood, their jobs and life in general. I literally can't stand it anymore.
So in my bitterness I've sort of resorted to this smart-ass mentality. And that's how I'm dealing with things - I make no apologies for it.
If that's a problem for you - you have some choices.
You can ignore me, bear with me, try to understand or leave me alone.
This isn't easy for me. And I am trying so hard to just try.
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