Life happens

First of all, I'd like to apologize for not writing sooner. I had a big project at work which had to be turned in by this past Friday. Now that it's over, I can finally breathe and take a few minutes to chat.

It's really funny how life just happens, how your choices and past experiences shape who you are today and how you presently live your life. With this pregnancy, I have had several "milestones" that I reach where I become more and more comfortable that this is the child God has intended for Chris and I to raise, love and cherish. Those "milestones" come infrequently but are so important to look forward to, to strive for. I have already reached several of these "milestones," for example, when I went for my very first ultrasound and saw the heartbeat, or when I went for a Dr. appointment and heard the heartbeat on the Doppler, and when you go in for your anatomy scan and see that precious baby growing right on schedule. And now I have another one coming up. Week 24, which will happen on Saturday, will be what those in the miscarriage and loss community affectionately call V-Day. This is when a child who is born preterm, at or after 24 weeks, has the potential to survive outside the womb. If a baby is born any earlier, the chance of survival is almost nil.
So all of us in the loss community strive for this day and celebrate it. We celebrate that we have made it this far. We celebrate our desires to have a healthy, full term babies, but know if the unthinkable happens, we have reached this "milestone" and this baby has at least a fighting chance for survival.
It's funny to look back and realize how past experiences have shaped your life. Everyone has friends and family whose first, or any pregnancy for that matter, resulted in a beautiful, healthy baby. Their "normal" is- I get pregnant, I have a baby. But unfortunately, this is not my "normal." My normal, is I get pregnant and worry that this baby isn't going to stick around- that something is wrong. My normal is holding my breath every time I go to the Dr and begin to freak out a little if it takes even the smallest amount of time to find Muppet's heartbeat, or analyzing every little cramp or twinge. My normal is to worry, incessantly. My normal is looking forward to those "milestones" and praying to God that I can reach them. My normal is knowing that just because you are pregnant does not necessarily guarantee that you will have a baby 40 weeks later.
There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about my first pregnancy and wonder about my baby. I consider myself a mother of not just Muppet but to her brother or sister who isn't with us now. I have one angel baby and one currently kicking in my tummy. Perhaps this is coming on the heels of total realization that I have surpassed my original due date. I told Chris this weekend that if we had not had a miscarriage that baby would be here now. None of this is to say that I'm not excited about Muppet and her impending arrival, because Chris and I are beyond thrilled and blessed that she is coming, but there will always be a part of me who will wonder, what our first baby would have done with his/her life. Would he or she been the President of the United States or discovered the cure for Cancer, been a missionary, a doctor, lawyer or in the entertainment business? Would it have been a he or a she? All of these questions and answers, and the subsequent loss and pain, play a significant role in my every day life. . . what MY normal is.
Everyone has a normal, mine just happens to be a different shade of normal. I wonder if my normal will get any easier with subsequent pregnancies? I wonder what my normal will look like after Muppet gets here safe and sound? Since I have been able to feel Muppet kick on a daily basis, it gets a little easier to take a deep breath and know that she is okay. But those in the loss community always have a different color of normal. Life will never be the same for me as it is to those who have never experienced a loss.
But to be thankful for how Muppet is progressing now and to be blessed by God by giving her to us to raise, well it just doesn't get any better than that.