All is going well with baby Nathaniel. We had another ultrasound at 22 weeks and the doctor once again assured us that everything looked perfect. I know it's good news (wonderful news), but I don't believe it. Ok, I don't intend to sound like Negative Nancy here, but I just can't fully believe that this child is healthy. That he'll come home with us. That he'll even be "normal." People say they understand that I don't want to get attached. It's a way to protect myself. Tell me how a mother isn't automatically attached to the child growing inside her? Maybe there's a way, but I sure don't know it. The truth is that I'm not trying to stay unattached. I'm trying to deal with this world's harsh reality: babies die. My baby died. I have to brace myself.
To even consider getting pregnant again was a leap of faith. I'm sure anyone who's lost a child would agree with that. You're actually signing up with the understanding that it could happen again. And this time, you know how much it's gonna hurt. That's really where CJay and I are now. We dance around the idea of having a son to bring home, but we quickly withdraw our excitement. I'd like to save it all. Save it all for when Nathaniel is born and he's pink and healthy and screaming. Then I'll exhale.
I'm not saying I'm expecting something bad to happen with this pregnancy or that I think this child will be sick or die. On the contrary, there are times when I think he's going to be fine. He's going to grow up and drive us nuts. Of course that's what I hope and pray for every minute, but I want to hold on tight right now and not forget where I've been. Babies die. Babies live. We don't get to chose.
I don't want you to think I'm down or unhappy. I'm not. I'm incredibly thankful to be pregnant again, and I've enjoyed all the little kicks and punches so far. It's just impossible to ignore the grief that sneaks in through the happy moments. I miss Isaac, and this pregnancy reminds me even more so of his absence. I'm trying to remember everyday to be thankful for this son and remember one of the important lessons that Isaac taught me: he's worth whatever lies ahead.