I am an avid reader of my preemie parenting boards and did a search for "due date" yesterday. One mom's comments stuck out out in my mind: Even though her preemie was still in the hospital at her due date, she was tired of mourning of what could have been, when she had her "alive and fighting" daughter right in front of her.
March 7th is a date that has loomed in my mind for weeks. And I'm ready. I'm ready to celebrate what I have and let go of my this-is-not-how-it-was-supposed-to-happen thoughts. Jossie continues to grow (mostly in the cheeks), has had no complications and is making eye contact with us. She even surprises us by holding her head up for a few seconds from time to time.
Seriously, I wasn't kidding about the cheeks.
I went to the doctor's office today for my postpartum appointment. I asked my doctor if she had any more clues about why I went early - anything more than the tightly wound blood vessels in the umbilical cord. She said there was nothing more and it was really just a fluke. She said it was very unlikely of happening again if we have any more children.
And then the doctor looked at me seriously and said it was a very good thing I came in that January Monday. She said this issue might have been hard to detect otherwise and we might not have the happy ending we had. The word "stillbirth" has a way of really focusing your priorities.
I am ready.
After being given a clean bill of health, I found myself walking over to Prentice. I entered the building and stood in the lobby and breathed in deeply.
And while I'd like to say I had a profound moment of clarity standing in the hospital where I spent so much time, I didn't feel much - no sadness and no great happiness. I opened my eyes and walked over to the tea counter and ordered a few lollipops for Jack and Maria's daughter, Ruby. I didn't even recognize any of the people behind the counter - no one to joke with about my addiction to orange lollipops.
Time to move on.
I'm waking up now from these last few weeks. I'm taking my sisters' advice and celebrating my healthy girl wholeheartedly rather than having a pity party for us both that the last seven weeks did not go exactly as I had planned.
And I was reminded last night of how good I have it with my blessings as I nursed a sleepy Jossie while giving Jack a goodnight kiss.
And tonight - on the day of my due date - instead of slurping on ice chips in a hospital bed, I heartily ate fried chicken and drank sparkling wine with some of my BFFs at West Town Tavern. Surrounded by love and friendship, I am thankful to celebrate with friends who will always have my back.
I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.
I am ready. Bring on March 8th.