Baby, Cozy Coffee Catchups, Family, Life, Mom Life

Cozy Coffee Catchups

Imagine we’re sitting in a cozy, sunlight living room. Comfortably tucked into oversized hug-your-body chairs. Snuggled up to fashionably fuzzy pillows. A stylish coffee table between us. Two jumbo mugs of steaming coffee within arm’s reach.

If we were sipping coffee together I’d tell you . . .

How incredibly long and surreal this week has felt . After another uncomplicated (and otherwise medically unremarkable) pregnancy thus far, my husband and I found out that I’m showing early signs of delivering prematurely again. Oh, the mixed emotions! . . . On one hand, I wasn’t a bit surprised when the NP told us. Being that our first little guy spontaneously arrive 6 weeks early, the possibility of having a second early arrival feels absurdly normal. At the same time, my body’s ability to make such a drastic change, seemingly overnight, caught me off guard. There have been zero red flags up until now. Add to that, the weekly injections I take with the specific purpose of preventing preterm labor . . . My mind has gone through a kaleidoscope-like shift over the past six days, moving from unfazed acceptance to nervous anticipation, finally settling into an unshakable peace.

I’d let you in on my word of the week. Grateful.

Grateful for early detection.

Grateful for modern medicine and fetal monitoring.

Grateful for the steroid shots that will help develop my little man’s lungs and prepare him for life outside my body, in the event he does arrive sooner than 37 weeks.

Grateful to have made it to 34 weeks and 6 days. Three days further along that I was when Little J was born. Three days more pregnant than I’ve ever been!

Grateful even for bedrest . . . Because while bedrest is an absolute punishment for someone like me—Read: someone always in motion, who rarely sits, and who thrives on movement and fitness to keep the blues at bay—the alternative is most certainly brining another NICU baby into this world. And while he still may arrive early, despite all precautions, warning is my golden ticket of a difference with baby Luke. If there is anything I can possibly do that boosts his chances of staying put, you better believe I will do it to a big, fat capital T. Every second he bakes allows him the opportunity to grow stronger. And for that I am grateful.

If we were sipping coffee together right now, you’d see the unwavering smile on my face. I am at peace. At peace with waiting. At peace with not knowing. And at peace with simply sitting (literally).

What have you been up to since our last coffee chat?

Peace,
Y

Baby, Family, Mom Life

Meeting Baby For The First Time


When I was pregnant with my first, I remember wondering what meeting him for the first time would be like. The anticipation. A mix of nervous excitement.

Would I feel like I already knew him? Would he know me? Would we feel like strangers?

The reality is what I imagine meeting someone you met online for the first time in person is like. Someone who speaks a different language. Someone you’ve communicated with for months using only chat, and relying heavily on Google translate to craft your responses. Meeting sans translator. Neither of you even remotely fluent in the other’s native tongue.

This is closer to what it really felt like after bringing him home.

Ours isn’t the typical story because he spent nearly his first month in the NICU. Read my birth story and Surviving the NICU posts for the full story. Like other mommas to be, my body was my translator during pregnancy. I didn’t have to think about what my baby needed. My body just knew what to do. After birth, his NICU doctors and nurses became my translators. Relying on them to relay his every need became my norm. As excited as I was when his NICU graduation day came, the idea of being home without my translating team felt so incredibly intimidating.

How would I know what to do?

His nurses were all so sweet, reassuring all would be well and I’d just know what to do. I’d know a hunger cry from a tired cry from a soiled diaper cry . . . Again, the reality being far from this.

Yes, I did learn to differentiate his array of cries. And the bond we’ve created is like no other . . . The key, however, being I learned.

We knew each other, but only to an extent. He knew my voice. The way he kicked just one leg reminded me of the little tap, tap, taps I felt against my ribcage during pregnancy. But we still had to get to know each other. And that took a mutual patience and trust. Patience in trusting my instincts and not second guessing my every thought and action. His patience in learning to trust that I would always be there for him.

Now pregnant with baby number two, I find myself wondering about baby’s personality. Will baby be patient? Insatiable? Quiet? Vocal? How will this first meeting compare to when I met my first? Will I just know more so this time time around, or will it be like meeting a familiar stranger once more? My expectation is that our meeting will be a lot like with my first . . . But I’m not putting too much on expectations this time.

I will just wait and see.

What was your first meeting like? Or are you currently pregnant and anticipating your first meet?

Peace,

Y