Technically, I'm behind and should be posting about my 12 week milestone that I hit this past Thursday. 11 weeks came and went with some heartache. From the beginning, I promised that this blog would be honest and real, which means that at times it might not come with the best news. At our last ultrasound, I found out that 'Baby B' stopped growing around weeks 8 and 9, known as 'vanishing twin syndrome'. It was a shock. Baby B has always been smaller, but had a strong heartbeat at the very first ultrasound. I will never forget those words of, "I'm sorry, the second one didn't make it". Truth is, even before the tech said anything, I knew that both sacs looked completely different. Sure, I was overwhelmed at the idea of caring for two newborns at the same time, but never to the point of wishing that I only carried one. After some dreaded phone calls to Steven and my parents that Baby B didn't make it, I realized that this has been such a fragile process. Life is precious. Every life on this Earth is a miracle.
With that said, the next few days were spent mourning "what-could(should?)-have-been", and the last week has been spent worrying over Baby A. Our little one who continues to grow is strong and healthy, but it doesn't help me from worrying that this one will be taken away too. I'll be honest when I say, "it's hard to allow myself excitement over this impending arrival". It's scary. I realize that life is precious and a gift, but how much more do I really need to learn? Our journey to parenthood has been the most testing experiences of faith, in my almost-30 years. Thoughts and prayers would most graciously be accepted.
I'm trying to stay as positive as the circumstances allow. I'm in good hands with my doctor. He wants to monitor me every couple weeks, which means more glances at baby . . . can't complain! I know every parent thinks that their child is the most gorgeous thing on the face of the Earth, but when I saw ours in human-looking form, I about died! That nose and those lips! Heavenly.