Rambling thoughts on pregnancy after loss

Tomorrow I will be 15 weeks pregnant with my 3rd baby. 

I grew up in a family of 3 kids and I always swore (I know, you're really not supposed to do that) I would NEVER (you're not supposed to say that either) have 3 kids. snicker.

Well, well.  I mean, it's not exactly the same since my Jaxson and Kiwi babies are in heaven and not making messes in my house but the irony of being momma to 3 babies is not lost on me.

We announced to the world a week or so ago after having waited until I was solidly in my second trimester and doctors across the board were giving tentative thumbs up.  I kinda felt like a little celebrity in my tiny town of 1,800 people because the day after we posted on Facebook I saw at least a thousand of those people at the Elementary school holiday bazaar and each stopped by my Scentsy table to congratulate me and give me tender hugs.

When we lost Jax in 2012 our little town rallied around us; bringing us meals, sending flowers and "girlfriend, we're thinking of you" packages.  Someone drew me a pencil sketch of Jaxson in Jesus's arms.  Someone else gave me a necklace with his birthstone with room for more stones with more babies.  Others caught onto my obsession with birds since Jaxson was my baby bird and my house is now filled with mementos of him in various bird forms.  Our little town has always made me feel like they lost him too and they miss him too even though they didn't get to hold his tiny 1 pound body. 

So now that we are expecting again I feel like everyone is expecting our miracle along with us.  Can I just tell you how rare and amazing a feeling that is?  To feel like your home away from home is family just the same?  Thank you, Oroville.  You are our family here and we love you and cannot thank you all enough.

I don't suppose I can accurately describe what it feels like to be pregnant after 2 losses especially if you haven't experienced the loss of a child.  It's a complete bundle of excitement, nervous energy, some sleeplessness, paranoia, germiphobia, jealousy (yes, jealousy...the green-eyed monster, once moved-in, doesn't leave easily), fear, joy, curiosity, control-freak-ness, and lots of other emotions.  Being the type of person who naturally experiences multiple emotions at one time it's that feeling on steroids. 

I'm considered high-risk now and that means supplementing hormones, more dr appointments, more ultrasounds, etc.  This equates to = more nausea, more fatigue, more anxiety, and more questions than last time.  What happened with Jax?  Will it happen again?  Can we prevent it?  The list of stuff I'm avoiding is longer than usual.  I think if Ken had his way he would duct tape me to the couch and leave me there until May.  Poor guy.  He's a saint.  A SAINT, people.  I haven't cooked him a decent meal, besides Thanksgiving, since before I left town on Sabbatical in September.  He's gaining sympathy pounds and not a bit happy about it.  Sorry, Babe.  I can't imagine how he must feel.  Being the sort of person who keeps everything inside anyway, I feel his hesitation to be very excited until we get closer and closer to term.  Believe me...I get that.  But it's different for me, obviously, because I am feeling every part of this pregnancy in every part of my body already.  I can't NOT think about this baby 24 hours day.  I suppose work is helping him keep his sanity so he doesn't just wander around our house wringing his hands for the next 6 months.

But the whole thing about being hesitantly excited?  yeah.  tentatively joyful.  It's a weird mixture of pure bliss that my body finally figured out how to conceive again and sheer terror that I won't survive another loss.  Generally people with my type of story call a pregnancy after loss a Rainbow Baby but I really hate that term...at least at the moment.  It's not a rainbow baby until he/she's here. 
in my arms. 
crying.
sleeping.
eating.
pooping. 

Does that show a lack of faith?  If it does I don't know how to fix it.  Nobody ever promised me I'd be a mom here on earth and they aren't promising it now so I have to live day by day.  Each morning I wake up and my first thoughts are, "take your meds!" and after that it's, "let's make it another day, Baby."  Gimme one more day.  One more week.  One more month.  Slowly, by God's grace we might make it to May. 

And then, if everybody's prayers are heard and answered, you'll be here. 
In my arms. 
And I'll finally get to take you home...
and one day hear you call me Mom.