12/20/17 *Edited
You know how there are days from your past that feel as fresh as the day they happened? Days that feel so big and heavy, and you can almost feel the weight all over again? Today is that kind of day for me. Two years ago I was 21 weeks pregnant and. A week before I had gone in for a routine sonogram to find out the sex of the baby when we discovered that there could be some complications. I had a strange feeling that I couldn't shake off so I called my doctor to check in. The next thing I knew I was looking at an ultrasound of my tiny little baby boy, watching my body trying to labor right there on the screen. It was so surreal to see the image of the pressure I was feeling. The next thing I remember was my doctor saying "You're going to have to go to the hospital right now and you will be there on bed rest until this baby comes. We're going to do everything we can." I lost it. For many of you, it's not at all shocking that I would cry in a moment like this. This was a deep, heart-wrenching cry of fear, shock, uncertainty and loss of control.
I couldn't stop crying that night or for the days to come. I felt so helpless for my baby, I felt guilty for dropping my counseling clients, I felt lonely and sad knowing that I would spend many days alone in a hospital and would likely celebrate Christmas and welcome the new year at a 40 degree angle. I didn't know what was ahead and fear was persistent.
Looking back is surreal, but I thank God for the journey and pray that He'll use our story for His good.
You know how there are days from your past that feel as fresh as the day they happened? Days that feel so big and heavy, and you can almost feel the weight all over again? Today is that kind of day for me. Two years ago I was 21 weeks pregnant and. A week before I had gone in for a routine sonogram to find out the sex of the baby when we discovered that there could be some complications. I had a strange feeling that I couldn't shake off so I called my doctor to check in. The next thing I knew I was looking at an ultrasound of my tiny little baby boy, watching my body trying to labor right there on the screen. It was so surreal to see the image of the pressure I was feeling. The next thing I remember was my doctor saying "You're going to have to go to the hospital right now and you will be there on bed rest until this baby comes. We're going to do everything we can." I lost it. For many of you, it's not at all shocking that I would cry in a moment like this. This was a deep, heart-wrenching cry of fear, shock, uncertainty and loss of control.
I couldn't stop crying that night or for the days to come. I felt so helpless for my baby, I felt guilty for dropping my counseling clients, I felt lonely and sad knowing that I would spend many days alone in a hospital and would likely celebrate Christmas and welcome the new year at a 40 degree angle. I didn't know what was ahead and fear was persistent.
Looking back is surreal, but I thank God for the journey and pray that He'll use our story for His good.
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