Week 33 is a strange one. Week 34 will be, too. Not as far as this pregnancy goes physically. All is still well. Baby is actually already made way into right against my cervix and will probably have a pretty considerable cone head from being so far into the birth canal for so many weeks. Ultrasound last week revealed that babe is also pushed so hard against the side of my uterus that he or she will probably follow in big sister’s foot steps and have a crooked nose at birth. We’re scheduling a fetal echo today at our routine OB appointment because after birth I want to be able to enjoy this baby and not worry about if he or she is really heart healthy.

Now to the “strange.” It’s a weird feeling knowing last year at this time my son was alive and thriving…well, surviving. I feel him in the cool autumn night air. The evidence of his life surrounding my every move. His once existence is more real to me than it has been in a very long time. I don’t know that I’ll feel like this next year and the years to come between his birthdate and his death date. After October 9th, I can no longer say, “my son died less than a year ago.” The feeling that thought leaves me with isn’t mysterious at all. I know that feeling all too well: emptiness. My heart is holding its breath… It’s resting before it starts to sink all over again and struggle to breathe come October 9th.

I want to live in the year of my son forever. That’s part of pregnancy after loss that’s toughest for me. If I were to live in the year of Abraham forever I would never meet this baby. I would still have Juliette because she lived in the “before”, but this baby didn’t.. To say that Abraham means more to me than this child would be wrong. I want to love, nurture and raise this baby so badly I can hardly contain myself. When I sit and think about time moving forward though, all I can do is cry. Then, I quickly pull it together, put my big girl panties on and remind myself that there isn’t a rewind button on life. Time doesn’t allow us to go backward and loving on another baby isn’t detrimental to my soul and absolutely isn’t letting Abraham down. It’s like that Anna Nalick song that’s been playing on repeat in my head for days:

And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button girl,
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe,
Woah breathe, just breathe.

Sometimes all you can do is just breathe.
On a lighter note, Abraham’s birthday last Tuesday was beautiful. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as I had anticipated. It was full of God’s presence and glory. We took a gift basket “from Abraham” to the hospital for a newborn boy, went out to dinner to celebrate Abraham’s life, thanked the good Lord for our precious babies and just enjoyed the day that God had made. After all, it was one of the best dates of my life.


Juliette decided that Abraham would have chosen the double fudge chocolate chip muffin for his birthday breakfast. She also chose to eat it for him.



Here’s my sunshine getting ready to deliver the gift basket “from Abraham” to a newborn boy.



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