Pregnancy Is a Hope, Not a Promise

I am 26 weeks pregnant today. I officially reached the "point of viability" at 24 weeks which simply means that if these babies were to be born today doctors would have to try and save them because they have a chance at survival with a lot of assistance. However, there are no guarantees.

No guarantees- that's how I feel about everything with pregnancy. I think infertility makes you constantly worry, question, and doubt. With each appointment you hold some degree of fear tucked in your heart that this will be the appointment where everything will fall apart, where you will learn that  you will lose this miracle, and you will have to start all over again. You worry that you're setting up the nursery too soon. You question if you're washing tiny clothes that someone may never wear, and wonder what you will do with them when that happens.

Every Saturday I breathe a sigh of relief as I successfully reach another week in this pregnancy. With each kick and punch I feel, a little anxiety eases away...okay, they're still with me, they're still there. I think some moms-to-be bond easily with their baby while pregnant. They whisper sweet words of love to their belly and caress it, promising of the future they'll have together. If I'm painfully honest with you, I haven't been able to get there due to my past miscarriage. It doesn't mean I don't love and cherish these little ones, it just means that my heart is scared because now I know: pregnancy is a hope and not a promise.

Recently I have had several friends receive devastating news regarding their pregnancies- a fatal diagnosis for a little one at 18 weeks, and multiple miscarriages. Once again I'm reminded there are no guarantees and my heart breaks for these dear women. I know what it's like to pray, celebrate, dream, and then grieve. I know what it's like to see the date pass on the calendar that should have been a little one's birthday. And I know what it's like to have to start over. For me, it was literally the absolute worst journey I have ever been on. The appointments, the injections, the exams, the tests, the way your heart stops at every appointment because you fear what the doctor will say, and how your heart breaks even though you told yourself you wouldn't hope...and you realize despite what you told yourself, you were.

So at 26 weeks I find myself sitting in what's to be our nursery, scared and hopeful. I rest my hands on my ever-growing belly, massaging sore spots from feisty little hands and feet, and I pray that these angels will stay put. I pray that they will be born fully-developed and healthy and have long lives. And I pray that someday my heart may be healed from infertility so that I can enjoy the little moments of every day instead of constantly fearing the worst.

26 weeks down, 11 to go. Somehow 11 weeks sounds like so little to go and yet so long to hope.