Just about half way there!

So, here I am at nineteen weeks....!

I started to feel Baby moving at about 16 weeks, and each week the movements get a bit stronger and more frequent.  I am really looking forward to the day when Steve and Caeden will be able to share in that, because Baby is big enough to make his/her presence known to the outside too.

Baby continues to be more "real" to me.  By which I mean that my brain is starting to conceive the idea that come some day in April, there will be a very small little human being living in my house.  Which is very exciting, but of course, not without it's share of very strong emotions both positive and then the more difficult.

Because it is all a big, big unknown.  And most days I feel fairly happy and excited about it.  But also...

Two nights ago I had a dream about Baby's arrival.  In my dream, I was newly home from hospital and was caring for Baby and nursing him (it was a boy, and NO, I DO NOT think this dream was in any way prophetic!).    Then in my dream it occurred to me that I was home from the hospital and no one had even checked or tested Baby for PBD.  So I put my hand on Baby's small little head and felt... huge sutures still unknit in the bones of his head and a large fontanel...  In my dream it felt just EXACTLY like Joel's head had felt, even though in waking life, I have been having a hard time remembering exactly what Joel's newborn head felt like.

And then the emotions hit me.  I wept, because Caeden wanted a healthy sister, and he was getting a sick little brother, another Joel.  And I wept for Baby, because I love Baby so much and I want to feel a healthy little head that can grow and develop and not get sick one day and die.  Of course that is what I want.  And in my dream, the emotions of it hit me, and I wept.

Which made for an interesting day of thinking yesterday, after I woke up.  Things do look different in the light of day, though.  Thank the good Lord.

I read an adoption story recently, where a mom shared their experience with fostering to adopt.  That mom was saying that people who foster adopt need to be people capable of faith.  She was talking about having faith that they could love a child and let it go, faith that going back to the child's family really could be best for the child, faith that they could survive the pain of letting that child go.  That sort of thing.  That resonated with me.

Because this experience is all about faith for me too, only I put my faith in God, not my own abilities which are admittedly often quite sparse and unimpressive.  This Baby is a child of faith.  Not that I believe God will give me a healthy child, though surely I hope that very strongly.  The faith part isn't believing I'll get what I wish, but rather that if I get what I do not want, there will be grace sufficient for me to be joyful and peaceful and content, not in getting what I want, but being made able to want what I have gotten.  And in a sense, I am already grateful and happy with what I've got, even if it is not what I want.  Confused yet?

I am believing that God is faithful and will give me the strength to care for Baby, even is there is no sleep, or even when there are doctors and symptoms and stress.  I am believing that God is faithful to give me great love for Baby and still survive the pain of one day losing my child.

None of that faith makes it easier for me to suffer the stress or pain or loss.  I mean, the pain of surgery hurts whether you have trust the doctor knows what he is doing or not.  But it does give me courage.  That is a different thing, and it is not courage that is innate or part of my character.  It is courage that just springs from the trust I have in God that He has carried me through, and will carry me through, even in the darkest and most difficult parts.  Even knowing already a little bit of just how dark and difficult it can be.

And it means that even though now some days are crying days as I miss Joel or think about the difficulties that lie ahead, I am still full of joy about this little one jumping around inside of me.

I still don't have my date for my ultrasound.  It's gotta arrive soon, as they usually want to do it before you hit over 22 weeks.  I can't wait to get that done.  :)  It is scary for me, and exciting too.  It won't tell me if Baby has PBD, but at least I will know that major organs are all looking good.

Awhile back, Caeden admitted to Steve and I that "I was sometimes jealous of Joel."  It was so good to hear him understand that and admit it so we could talk about it.  Whew, what a blessing to have that in the open for him, so that when Baby arrives we can continue the discussion as necessary.  Because sick or healthy baby, Caeden is bound to have some moments of jealously.  Even now, as my lap gets smaller and smaller, it is a bit hard for him.  I'm trying to get across the message that sitting next to mommy with her arm around you is still a good thing.  What I'll do when both arms are holding Baby, only God knows!  But I trust Him to share that wisdom with me, when the time comes.

BTW, my belly is HUGE.  Already.  Yikes!  It's always like that for me, I seem enormous and I'm only halfway through.  I've only gained 8 pounds, which is the lower side of average for my dates, so it's not like I'm packing on the pounds.  But I'm ready to topple over with each step.  Maybe one day I'll put up a front and side picture.  From the front, it really doesn't look bad at all.  Then you get the side shot...  :)  My mother in law would love to see those pictures up here.