It's the middle of the night during a turning point kind of weekend around here. Jonas's crib came home on Friday night and is awaiting re-entry into the house. We handed it down to my nephew Aidan, and it's been in safe keeping ever since. I thought it had been sold in a garage sale but somebody must have had an inkling that it would be called back into service.
I have mixed emotions about it. It's a beautiful crib and I have many happy memories of Jonas in it. I also remember well the pain of realizing that Owen would never use it. Packing up baby stuff for a child who would never use any of it is part of a painful process that I wouldn't wish on anybody. And yet, today, we are going to face that fear and start to get BGB's room ready for her.
This is one of those keep the faith moments that we face along the journey of this pregnancy. Wanting to climb up on the emotional fence, while trying to stay optimistic. Fighting the boogyman thoughts that are trying to creep into our minds is easier said than done sometimes.
A close friend who I've come to know over the past five or six years, asked me recently what happened to Owen. I realized that even though I talk about him, I don't often talk about "it", the details of what happened to him. Maybe if I blog it out now, when it's keeping me awake in the middle of night, I can put it to rest for another little while.
I was 33 weeks pregnant, about 7 weeks away from Owen's due date, when "it" happened. "It" was that Owen just stopped moving one day. There was none of the drama you see on tv and in the movies. I had no other signs or symptoms that something was wrong. He just stopped moving. I thought I was paranoid at first, worrying over nothing as most pregnant women do, but an ultrasound confirmed that our worst fears had been realized. He had died. His autopsy was inconclusive about what had happened. He had a true knot in his cord (meaning that he swam through it at some point), but although rare, healthy babies are born with this condition all the time. That might have been "it" or "it" might have been something else. After thoroughly testing both Steve and I, the results were still inconclusive. I likely had Lupus but, again, this may or may not have been a contributing factor to what happened. We have come to accept that we may never know.
Science has made great strides in 8 years. We're being monitoring very closely, and they're finding things that they would never have even looked for last time. A misplaced placenta, a uteran artery that isn't pumping right and a mama's thyroid that isn't working properly, are three risk factors they're keeping a close eye on. It's a little scarey to know that these things could have been "it" and could cause major problems for BGB and I, but it's also comforting to know that the doctors know about them this time and can intervene if needs be.
It all boils down to keeping the faith. Faith in our doctors and faith in that great power of the universe. Call it "God" or "Allah" or "The Great Spirit" or whatever you want, but on this Sunday morning, that higher power and I are having a bit of a moment.