Last night, while lying in bed, I did a google search for "pregnancy blogs" on my blackberry. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't go searching for such blogs because I was coming across so many that had heartbreaking endings and when I closed out of them, my heart felt so heavy. I was left feeling suddenly worried about the "what-if's" and going through a plethora of hypothetical’s in my head.
The blog I came across last night belonged to a woman close to my age. I looked to the right hand side of her blog to see the topic of her most recent posts. They read, "belly pictures at 38 weeks", "nursery photos", and "letter to my sweet girl" {which was so endearing and heartwarming to read}. It expressed practically every sentiment that I have towards the blessing that is our little girl growing inside of me.
Then there was a "good-bye" post. I thought maybe she had begun blogging at a new web address. But when I kept reading I discovered that this post was filled with agonizing, painful words of an emergency crash c-section that caused her daughter's heart rate to quickly drop after delivery and ultimately she died. She talked about the heart-wrenching devastation of that moment, and the precious moments that followed - that she still wanted to hold her precious baby, sing to her, caress her, and memorize every inch of her limp lifeless body. She described her hair as being brown and curly, her cheeks being plump and rosy, and she shared all the dreams that she had for her baby girl's future. I was a total emotional mess after reading this post. I still am. My eyes are full of tears even as I type this post.
Nothing is guaranteed in life. Nothing.
I was in complete despair for this woman I didn't even know. I think it was the first time that I crossed over as a just a woman and connected to someone as a mother.
Even a day later, I can't shake the post I read. It was also accompanied with a video - the music was to "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlan and began with a video that highlighted the stages of her growing belly. I immediately clicked out of it because I just couldn't take watching it and wouldn't have been able to get through it without emptying a box of kleenex.
Last night I just wasn't myself after reading about this woman who tragically lost the baby girl that she had carried and bonded with for 9 months and looked forward to loving for the rest of her life. Last night my husband prayed over our baby girl, and over me, as he consistently does. Although every prayer must come to an end, I didn't want him to stop praying. I felt like the words needed to really go in and reach my soul and saturate every bit of my being down to my toes. Maybe then I would feel totally reassured that baby Ilah will be born healthy and vibrant, without any complications.
I hear it's natural for most expectant mothers to go through these wave of emotions and fears, just in the same way that we experience excitement and joyful anxiousness to welcome our sweet baby into the world.
I just want delivery day to be here. I just want baby Ilah to keep growing strong and healthy in the meantime. I want to get to the moment of hearing her first cry, and seeing what she looks like. I want to be told by the pediatrician that will be examining her the day that she is born that she is healthy and perfect in every way. I can't wait to hold her in my arms, put her first piece of clothing on her that we purchased for her, and I can't wait to bring her home and begin my life with her.
There's nothing else in my life that means more to me right now than this.
The blog I came across last night belonged to a woman close to my age. I looked to the right hand side of her blog to see the topic of her most recent posts. They read, "belly pictures at 38 weeks", "nursery photos", and "letter to my sweet girl" {which was so endearing and heartwarming to read}. It expressed practically every sentiment that I have towards the blessing that is our little girl growing inside of me.
Then there was a "good-bye" post. I thought maybe she had begun blogging at a new web address. But when I kept reading I discovered that this post was filled with agonizing, painful words of an emergency crash c-section that caused her daughter's heart rate to quickly drop after delivery and ultimately she died. She talked about the heart-wrenching devastation of that moment, and the precious moments that followed - that she still wanted to hold her precious baby, sing to her, caress her, and memorize every inch of her limp lifeless body. She described her hair as being brown and curly, her cheeks being plump and rosy, and she shared all the dreams that she had for her baby girl's future. I was a total emotional mess after reading this post. I still am. My eyes are full of tears even as I type this post.
Nothing is guaranteed in life. Nothing.
I was in complete despair for this woman I didn't even know. I think it was the first time that I crossed over as a just a woman and connected to someone as a mother.
Even a day later, I can't shake the post I read. It was also accompanied with a video - the music was to "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlan and began with a video that highlighted the stages of her growing belly. I immediately clicked out of it because I just couldn't take watching it and wouldn't have been able to get through it without emptying a box of kleenex.
Last night I just wasn't myself after reading about this woman who tragically lost the baby girl that she had carried and bonded with for 9 months and looked forward to loving for the rest of her life. Last night my husband prayed over our baby girl, and over me, as he consistently does. Although every prayer must come to an end, I didn't want him to stop praying. I felt like the words needed to really go in and reach my soul and saturate every bit of my being down to my toes. Maybe then I would feel totally reassured that baby Ilah will be born healthy and vibrant, without any complications.
I hear it's natural for most expectant mothers to go through these wave of emotions and fears, just in the same way that we experience excitement and joyful anxiousness to welcome our sweet baby into the world.
I just want delivery day to be here. I just want baby Ilah to keep growing strong and healthy in the meantime. I want to get to the moment of hearing her first cry, and seeing what she looks like. I want to be told by the pediatrician that will be examining her the day that she is born that she is healthy and perfect in every way. I can't wait to hold her in my arms, put her first piece of clothing on her that we purchased for her, and I can't wait to bring her home and begin my life with her.
There's nothing else in my life that means more to me right now than this.
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