When someone finds out they are pregnant, there is a blissful happiness that you live on for about ten months. You formulate all kinds of dreams, situations, picturing your new child in your life. Creating the family in your mind that will be perfect. Holding, caressing, caring for your new baby. Teaching your baby to crawl, walk, throw a ball. Waiting for the day when they wake and ask for pancakes for breakfast. Comforting them when they cry. Celebrating their successes. When this ends suddenly, all of those dreams and hopes and innocence are lost and come to a crashing halt.
Finding out we are pregnant is an overwhelming emotion. Bliss. Happiness. Relief from the stress of trying unsuccessfully. Uneasiness. Fear of things going wrong.
During the last pregnancy, I never feared anything happening to the baby until the end - I'd heard stories of cords wrapping around necks. That was my fear. And in the end is when Emerson's life began and ended all in a matter of hours. I don't have a hump to get over during this pregnancy; I have ten months to get through before I get over a very real "hump." Every little step is fearful - are we going to make it to the eight week check up? Will baby be okay at the ultrasound? Will my blood pressure remain stable? Will my scar from Emerson damage this baby? Will I go into labor early? Overwhelming. I can do this, but I know I need support. My innocence is lost, my understanding is far greater, and my love for this baby runs deep.
And I pray that Emerson's strength is stronger now than ever before. She is the one who will help me get to the light at the end of the seemingly long tunnel. Baby steps. One at a time.
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