Hello, 32 weeks! Nice to meet you for the third time in three years.
This past week has been a busy one. I missed last Monday’s post due to a certain small toddler that made me take every single item “with eyes” out of her bedroom before she would sleep. This turned into an over two hour ordeal after getting out her stuffed animal and piggy bank collection one by one. It left my “blog time” used up and me rather exhausted.
I actually had a post ready for this week that was meant for last week, but it just didn’t feel “right” publishing it when it didn’t say anything about tomorrow.
September 22nd, 2014 was an ordinary Autumn feeling day. All normal except that I woke up knowing I was about to go on a blind date to meet the little man of my dreams. My contractions were mild, but coming steadily. I knew I was in labor. I called my local OB and informed him that I was coming in to be double checked before leaving for The University of Iowa Hospital where I was to give birth with a team that was equipped to handle Abraham immediately following delivery.
At 11:22 my sweetie shot into this world. It was love at first sight…Raw, perfect love.
He didn’t cry. He was blue and turning gray and was quickly whisked away and revived, intubated and sent to the pediatric cardiac intensive care unit where he was poked, prodded and eventually stabilized. I still thank God often for Abraham’s medical team. With their help we had 17 beautiful, wonderful days with our precious boy.
I’ve been dreading Abraham’s birthday. I don’t want to have to say, “I had a son over a year ago.” I don’t want Abraham to be last year’s news. My chest has been tight just thinking about tomorrow for weeks. I hear other loss moms talk about “signs” they see that remind them that their child is near. Honestly, I don’t want signs that my son is near. That means he’s still seeing all the awful of this earth when I like to picture him in Heaven with all its glory and beauty without a worry in the world. So, when I see these said signs I immediately thank God. I don’t thank Him that Abraham is close, I more so thank Him that HE is close when I need something, anything to cling to to remind me of my baby boy and his existence in a world that was never made for him, even if he exploded into it like it was. Just this week leading up to tomorrow I’ve been given three “signs”. Call them coincidences if you want, but either way I’m grateful. Two of them are silly and only hold meaning to me, so I won’t bore you. The third happened last week and is easier to grasp. Abraham had a glow worm that his Grandma and Grandpa Bennett got him when he was in born. We played it several times a day for him. The batteries have been dead for months (at least 10). I can’t bring myself to put new batteries in it. My daughter, Juliette was sleeping with it nightly and has tried pushing it on often, even knowing it’s dead. While I was angrily tossing all of Juliette’s stuffed animals back into her room (because they “have eyes” and she won’t sleep with them in there) that little glow worm started playing the soft tune that it used to sing my son to sleep with. It both warmed and broke my heart in a way that is so unexplainable. I picked it up, held it and just cried. It played all the way to the end and then faded out. I tried pushing it on again and again with no response.
I know this is my Bump Day Blog and I should be talking about how this pregnancy is progressing (beautifully and uneventfully minus my extremely irritable uterus–praise Jesus!) and my feelings surrounding pregnancy after loss, but in all truthfulness I would be lying to you all and myself if I didn’t adequately express just how real and impactful these anniversaries of Abraham still are and will probably always be. This child in my womb is so loved and so wanted and it will know this to the fullest, but being pregnant after the loss of a child is the second hardest thing I’ve ever endured. It wouldn’t be right to not share the beautiful little man that brought me to this place.Week 32 is bound to be an eventful one. It’s so hard to sit back and enjoy being pregnant when the days are coming too fast to grasp onto.