It’s April… and April is almost over!

Wow a lot has happened this year! Last year we found out we were expecting around this time. When we found out we were expecting we were so unbelievably excited. I took 6 tests. I cannot explain the joy we felt. We waited a month before I went to my OB. When I arrived the OB checked my pee and it tested positive so she ordered a scan. The ultrasound didn’t show anything. She ordered both the abdominal and Tv ultrasounds and didn’t see anything. She said that I had likely miscarried. She sent me to the lab for bloodwork. When the bloodwork came back it said that I should be showing something on my ultrasound. The levels were high. She diagnosed a miscarriage and asked when I wanted to take the pill to get rid of any remaining tissue. I felt gut punched. I told her I wanted a second opinion. It was a very dark time for me. I cried. I retreated in the closet holding a baby blanket and crying to God. I think I was trying to bargain but I had nothing to give so instead I just cried. It was a horrible grief. No one seemed to understand. It was lonely. I wrote poetry about how “sad” <- that word is too small and meaningless to tell you how I actually felt. It was angry and bitter. The playlist on my Spotify was dark. Everything felt dark and cold. I kept praying through the darkness. Two weeks later I went to a different lab at the hospital for another two ultrasounds. I still remember walking in and the greeter saying ” congrats” and I felt like “you don’t even know what you are talking about… they are just going to confirm what the doctor said” and at the same time I had a sliver of hope that the doctor was wrong. I laid back on the table and let the tech scan my stomach. Nothing showed up. They ran another TV scan and the tech smiled “well there is your little jellybean”. I was shocked. Happily surpassed. Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. The doctor called me the next day to confirm. There was a clear heartbeat and a tiny little baby. She said I was due late January… which didn’t make sense to me. The numbers just didn’t add up but I took it as a win. They sent us some ultrasound photos with size and due date stamped on them. And so our journey began.

Later I got into heated arguments with other adults who told me that I needed to get a tubal when I had my c-section. The hurt I felt stung pretty deep but I was mostly able to work past it. I still felt very lucky that this baby was showing to be healthy.

Weeks passed and more ultrasounds happened. Every single time I felt incredibly nervous. I still felt like for some reason this pregnancy wasn’t going to last. I felt like this baby was somehow going to be taken away again and that the intense and bitter grief I once felt would return. Soon the due date was adjusted to mid January and then the beginning of January based on growth charts. First I was due on January 24th and then they moved it to January 20th and then the final date was moved to January 12th. It was a constant rollercoaster with tests upon tests the whole pregnancy. Kidney scares and possible heart defects. Gestational diabetes came along. I did the diet pretty strictly. Still the doctor had something scary to say each visit. More ultrasounds to reevaluate what they could see. Would they have to deliver early as the doctor had suggested? Every single time I saw the doctor I had severe anxiety of what was going to go wrong next. The doctor wasn’t billing me and I was getting sent to collections. The whole office was just a huge mess. I was stressed all of the time.

November rolled around. I turned 35. The doctor continued to tell me how high risk I was. I was so nervous. We decided despite being so close to my due date that we would change doctors. We went online and researched the best doctors in the area and the top delivery rooms and narrowed down our choices. And then we just chose one. The next doctor seemed knowledgeable. We set up all of the future appointments and slowly the majority of the anxiety began to fade. It was still there in the back of my mind but it wasn’t constant like it had been. We worked out the delivery date with our new doctor. He wanted to schedule us for the 6th… we weren’t a fan of that number and we negotiated. Our C-section date was finally set for January 8th. We wanted the 7th but were not able to get it. We were disappointed but it could have been worse.

Late morning on January 5th my water broke. I called the hospital and told them I was on my way. Luckily for whatever reason I had slept in and skipped breakfast. We drive to the hospital and parked the car. Contractions were feeling pretty intense. We ran to the elevator… it was out of order. We then parked in a different area and that elevator was out of order too. This happened 3 times before we actually found the entrance and made our way to labor and delivery. The contractions got more and more intense… wow did I forget how they felt. The intake nurses check my status, verified that my water broke and then admitted. me.

The doctors and anesthesiologist introduced themselves. They scheduled my surgery. The spinal pinched or punched like crazy but it brought me a calm from the contractions that had sped up even more. They were just minutes apart now and this baby… this miracle was about to enter the world.

At 4:59 pm my new baby was pulled from my abdomen and held up. I heard his cry and my heart melted. The tarp blocked the baby’s lower half and I could still see my tiny one. A few minutes later Jason held up my new 8lb baby boy for me to see. Two days later Luca was named and was ready to come home. Luca means light. He truly was the light that lit up our year. He and his daddy would share their birthday from now on.

Elijah was excited when we facetimed him “my brother, I have a brother” he exclaimed with unadulterated joy. Arabella was excited as well. They jumped for joy when we pulled into the garage. They couldn’t wait to meet their new baby brother.

It’s been 4 months… Luca is a happy little sugar cube. He’s sweet as can be and growing stronger each day.