36 weeks and baby is weighing an estimated 6 pounds. I can’t believe in just one short week I’ll be considered “term”. Early-term, but term, nonetheless. I assume that I’ll make it through this next week and hopefully the one after that, too. My son was born at 37 weeks and my daughter at 38 weeks just two years before him. I know every pregnancy is different but I’m not holding on to too much hope that I’ll make it to 40 weeks this time around. My body is already following suit of my last two pregnancies and my contractions are coming every 5-20 minutes (depending on what I’m doing) and have been since last week. I’m not concerned because I’m not in pain, I know my body and I know this is “normal” for me. Annoying, but normal. It’s equally as fascinating as it is annoying, though. I love that my body knows just when to pick up on the prepping and toning for labor and delivery. So I remain thankful for every little (or big) squeeze of my uterus.

As far as how I’m feeling emotionally this week surrounding my PAL, I feel good. So simple, but so welcomed. Last Thursday, October 15th for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness we joined in on the Wave of Light by lighting our candle in memory of our Abraham Isaiah. Like all other loss parents, I don’t need a special day or ceremony, ritual, tradition, etc to remember that my son is dead. I will always remember. What I like about the day itself is that it does open the door to the outside, even if just a crack, and invites the rest of the world to remember our babies with us, spreading love and awareness that our babies did exist and will always exist in the hearts of those that loved them most.

My family sat around our kitchen table and lit a candle at 7pm central time, and sang “Abraham’s song” (All of Me by Matt Hammitt) and watched the shadow of our silly three year old daughter dance on the wall as she swayed in her seat for her brother while my husband and I smiled and tears rolled down our cheeks. All the while, this precious tiny human growing inside of me kicked and jabbed away at the sound of our familiar voices and the song that is wrapped so tightly around the memories we have of Abraham. For the first time in 36 weeks I can honestly say I felt connected to all three of my children at the same time. To say I felt whole would be pushing it, but the I’ll never forget the feeling of contentment that washed over me in that moment, even if it was only for a second.


A picture of our sweet boy, his urn and a candle lit just for him.



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