Good morning, and happy Monday everyone! Yes, I am in a good mood. Why, you ask? I will get to hold my baby in just eight short weeks!
I have spent the majority of my pregnancy imagining certain outcomes. The entire first trimester, I could only see my pregnancy ending in loss and grief. I was convinced each day that I didn't hear her heartbeat that something was wrong. Even early on in my second trimester, I could only imagine my pregnancy ending in heartbreak.
As I got further along, it seemed to me that the new concern at hand was going into premature labor before Baby B was viable. When I used to work with CPS several years back, I was called in on a case involving a coked-out mother who gave birth to a 14oz. baby at 22 weeks. I had to interview the mother, and then observe the baby and speak with his doctors. I was fresh out of training at the time, and though I know it's unprofessional to behave this way, I could barely contain my tears until I got to the bathroom outside of the NICU, and I cried from there all the way back to my office. The image of that little boy, not even a pound in weight, has come to me over and over during my pregnancy, and despite my healthy prenatal habits, I have lived in fear of having a baby in the NICU after what I witnessed that day.
This morning, however, while I walked a couple miles around my neighborhood, listening to my favorite uplifting tunes, it occurred to me that the chances are overwhelmingly positive that in approximately eight weeks, I'll be handed my newborn daughter - the fulfillment of my life's dream. As far back as I can remember, I have dreamt of having a daughter. As a small child, surrounded by American Girl dolls and a grandmother and mother who ran home day cares and having a close relationship with my own mother, it seemed logical to me that the best thing you could ever get out of life was a little baby girl (No offense to the boys and mothers of boys out there, I just don't really have much experience with them!). When I went off to college as a Nutrition major, something I still feel passionately about and a course schedule that I loved, it was only after taking my first Child Development class that I felt certain a change of major was in place. Would Nutrition have been a more lucrative degree? For sure. But I loved every second I spent in my Early Childhood Education and Development courses, and knew that if nothing else, they would come in handy when I took on the biggest job of my life: motherhood. While I have accomplished many things in my life (Have I ever mentioned I've written a novel? It still needs some publishing work, but I did!), everything pales in comparison to the fact that I will now be a mother and have my very own baby daughter to love and teach and pass things that are important to me on to. I actually ended up tearing up while walking around my neighborhood, the embodiment of pregnant stereotypes. I can't wait to meet you and hold you, Baby B!!! Just 56 days!