A Light at the End of the Tunnel

It seems as if there is a sliver of light at the end of this terribly long tunnel we've been traveling down for so long. This road has been a long, hard one. One I never wish to have to travel again. I'm thankful that I can finally see that tiny bit of light that has probably always been there but that has been blocked by the tears and frustration I have had over the last two years.

Today at my doctor's appointment I was told that if I don't go into labor on my own before March 12th I will be brought in to have my water broken and to give birth. While I was hoping to go all the way to my due date, March 17th, it is nice to know that we have date to look forward to.

I know that it's probably better to go into labor on my own, and more than likely will do just that, but the emotional turmoil I've had building over giving birth has been absolutely overwhelming and I'm glad to have this tiny bit of "control" over what may happen. I know that by that date my body will be just fine for giving birth and I know that it's not pushing the baby to come out before he's ready.

As of today I am dilated between 2-3 cm and my cervix is soft and starting to thin out. In two weeks from now, if I make to then, I have no doubt whatsoever that this little man will be able to be born safely. The specialist is trying his hardest to help me avoid another c-section. After having to vbacs it's hard to think of just having a c-section just to have one because I was unfortunate enough to have to have one before. With my gestational diabetes and my previous c-section I know they are being cautious to bring me in a little early. I have no problem with this especially since the goal is to vaginally birth this baby and the doctors are on board.

I am scared to death of going into labor on my own, especially of my water breaking. I know it's a psychological thing but I know if it happens at home or any other place except the hospital I am going to probably freak out. Well, maybe not outwardly, as that's not my style, but definitely it will be an internal freak out! I'm praying that I go into labor on my own and do what I did with Caroline and Madison and walk into the hospital with contractions and dilated to 6 cm at least.

I have no doubt that this birth is going to be an emotional one. My heart is aching so much to hold this little boy already. I'm praying he heals the holes in my heart and that he brings closure to this torment that I have felt for the last two years. It was on March 2, 2010 that I delivered Joseph, so tiny and so still. That delivery, while at home and peaceful as compared to William's delivery, started us on this downward spiral where it seemed that we would never welcome another child into our family. After losing Joseph we hoped with Sarah only to lose her. We hoped with William and had that hope dashed. When I found out I was pregnant with this little boy I truly didn't want to hope. Still, I did. I am so thankful that I did. I'm so thankful for that tiny light I see now shining just ahead of me. It has gotten brighter and brighter with each day that passes. I am praying with everything in me that so soon we will step out fully into the light, holding a little baby boy tightly in our arms, ready to bring him home to our family.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. I know that over the last two years I never could have made it without the hopeful prayers and gentle words of encouragement that I have had from you. Truly, I can never thank you enough.

I can't wait to share our little one with you. We are so very close now and I am praying that things will go perfectly. I need this little one in my arms. My husband needs him. My children need him. So many others need him as well. He is a shining example of faith and hope. My heart is so ready to heal and my arms are so ready to be full.

Toothless

Ok, so not really but I'm feeling sorry for myself and I might as well be toothless at this very moment.

I found out that I desperately needed to have a root canal on two different teeth. I had been putting off some tooth work for a while now due to finances, pregnancy and depression from earlier on. It just wasn't feasible to get the work done that I needed done. Unfortunately because I put it off for so long when I went in to get the work done that I needed done I was informed that nto only did I need root canals but then I was going to have to have crowns put on both as well. I told them we'd go ahead and set that up and to please let me know what it was going to cost me out of pocket.

And then the shoe dropped. Our insurance changed at the beginning of the year for both medical and dental. Turns out my dentist, my beloved dentist that all my children love, my dentist that we've been going to for almost 13 years, the dentist and staff who absolutely love when I bring all the kids in on one day and take up their entire morning... that dentist is no longer in my network of providers. Combined with the fact that the out of cost pocket was going to be sky high we decided that I wasn't going to be able to do a root canal and crowns. There was just no way. Still, I had to have something done and preferrably before the baby comes.

Today I had that "something" done. I had those two teeth pulled. We'll do partials later when my mouth has healed and we have more money to do so. This shouldn't be so devastating to me but it is. You see, the nurse that orginally told me which teeth needed to be pulled told me wrong. It wasn't until I was sitting in the chair and they pulled the first tooth that I understood what they were doing. Here I thought I was getting two back teeth pulled (the second and third from the back) but really one of the teeth was closer to the front than I thought. I ended up with the 3rd and 4th from the back (which makes it also the 4th from the front). I figured that you wouldn't be able to see the missing teeth if they were ones in the back but to have one more upfront (or at least on the side) shocked me. It wasn't until the tooth was pulled that I realized and by then it was too late.

When we were done I got in my car and I cried. I had joked for a week (since finding out we couldn't afford the other procedures) that I would be a hillbilly. Getting in the car with those teeth missing made it not so funny afterall. I've been having a pity party for myself since. I know that it's not "that" noticeable (or at least that's what the kids say) but I still think you can see that there is a huge gap there. Not only that but it hurts and it feels weird. I don't like it.

In my family I was always teased for wearing glasses as a kid. When I got contacts then I got teased for my nose being big. I was teased that I was fat (and I wasn't at all but my sisters were stick thin). I grew up feeling really bad about myself. That has continued on to my adult life. I've never felt pretty. I have always been happy that I was the only one in my family who never had to have braces, who had no cavities as a kid, who had the only perfect teeth in my family. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so vain about that. Still, I did. Now, I am missing teeth. I feel even uglier. It stinks.

I was crying in my room about it after my appointment and Bella came in and told me that I would be pretty even if I had no teeth. It made me smile. A few of the other kids who were in the room chimed in as well. It made me feel better. I know that I shouldn't hold on to those feelings that I had as a kid where perfectly straight and cavity free teeth make me feel good but it's hard not to. It's amazing how the things that we experience as kids can keep haunting us as adults. I've never felt good about my looks or my body, even before I had kids. Now, with missing teeth, it's even harder to feel good.

I know that getting these two teeth pulled is not the end of the world but when the day was a bad one to begin with, well, it just makes it seem that much more devastating. I have survived worse. I know I need to just buck up and accept that this is how it is. I just wish it didn't make me feel so financially poor, so ugly, so down.

Schmitty

Schmitty is 3 months old now. He's a pretty good cat. He's a little crazy though. I suppose he fits right in here. Yesterday I took part in the following conversation...

Emma, "Kaylie, I think I know why Schmitty threw up today."
Kaylie, "Yeah, because we spun him around in a laundry basket."
Me, "You what?"
Kaylie, "Well, it wasn't for very long!"
Me, "Uh, long enough to make the poor cat sick!"
Kaylie, "No, really, it wasn't for very long. I mean, he couldn't walk well but it wasn't for long."
Me, "No more of that!"

Last night the poor cat threw up again. This time though no one had spun him in a basket. In fact it was his own fault. I mean, really, what cat eats butter and boiled potatoes? This one sure does. It'd be easy to see him doing that if he had ever been feral but we got him at 5 weeks old from his mama who was kept inside. He has no reason to scavange. Still, he eats just about anything. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of his weak stomach given the fact that there are so many little people here who can't seem to keep food on their plates.

It's funny how quickly an animal becomes family like Schmitty has. He loves to play with the kids and the dog and he loves so much to bug our big cat, Captain Hook. He's a stinker that's for sure but we've really grown to love his antics. He sure puts up with a lot but he gives out a lot too. He fits right in :)

34 Weeks

I am 34 weeks pregnant now. It doesn't seem possible to me that I am almost done with this pregnancy. I have tried my hardest to enjoy every minute of it and to be happy just to be pregnant again, expecting a little boy who will add so much to our family. I've had a lot of ups and downs throughout the pregnancy that I haven't talked about much because I didn't want to focus on the bad things instead of the good. I fully realize that this very well could be my last pregnancy. I know that I've said it before but I know given my age and my "lady health" that it truly could be my last. I hope not, but that is something that I've given over to the Lord.

Last night I had a scare. I guess really given how far along I am it wasn't a "scare" but more of a wake up call that this is going to happen soon. I know if the baby was born now he'd more than likely be ok but I sure hope he stays put a while longer.

Mike got called out to a drug bust on the east side of Atlanta. Of course being west of Atlanta this was quite the trek for him. I had started having contractions yesterday somewhere between 4pm and 5pm that were pretty consistent. I made supper and tried my hardest to ignore them. By about 7 pm they were getting harder and closer together but still not enough to go the hospital. About that time Mike got a call that he had to go. He insisted he eat supper first with us and then headed out the door. I told him that if I called him I didn't care what in the world he was doing but he better answer the phone. I know that most of the time when he's out on a drug bust like that he can't answer the phone but I needed him to know that this time the baby and I trumped any and all drug dealers. I promised I wouldn't call unless I truly thought we needed to head to the hospital.

As the night wore on my contractions weren't letting up. On top of them I also started getting a migraine. I'm pretty sure that the stress of him being gone triggered it. I decided the best way to handle it all was to drink a lot of water and soak in a warm bathtub and put a cool washcloth on my head. Thankfully that seemed to help both problems.

While I was sitting in the bathtub I prayed the rosary. I prayed for our little one. I prayed for Mike's safety. I prayed for our lost babies and my friends who have lost babies. I prayed for my friends who are pregnant and those who have had babies recently. I just prayed. It was comforting.

But while praying I was also worrying. Worrying about how this birth is going to go. Up until this point I haven't put much thought into my birth because all I was focusing on was each day enjoying having my baby growing inside of me yet another day. There have been hard days where I cry for my other babies. There have been good days where I know that God is in control. But in all those days I never thought past that particular day. I just put one foot in front of the other. Last night reminded me of what is to come and that I need to start preparing.

As I sat in the water I suddenly became overwhelmed with the thought of giving birth. The last time I gave birth it was to a baby who was still. I remember so vividly the moment my water broke and I knew that he was not going to make it. I knew that I would never get to see him do all the things I had hoped and planned for him. The sound and the feeling of my water breaking will stay with me forever. Last night, while sitting in the tub, those thoughts and feeling were overwhelming. I started thinking about how in the world I was going to handle that moment during this pregnancy when my water breaks. Because I carry so much extra fluid with each pregnancy I know that moment is going to be big, it always is. But this time there will be something more added on to it.

I've always been scared of birth. I guess my first pregnancy I wasn't because I didn't know what was in store. But for every other pregnancy I have been scared. I know that I am strong enough to get through the pain but I still always worry. This time I am terrified. I want everything to go perfectly. I want my baby to be safe. I want to hear him cry. I want him to be placed on my chest and look into his tiny face and for him to quiet when he hears my voice. Until last night I put those thoughts out of my mind. I didn't want to think about the what ifs. Now, I have to. I'm right there at the pinnacle of this pregnancy. My heart races at the thought of his birth. I can only pray, like I did last night, that God continues to take care of our each and every need and that He will be holding my hand the entire time I am in labor.

I can't wait to see my little boy. I can't wait to kiss him. I can't wait to hold him to me and know that he is mine. It's not much longer now. I'm scared but I am so anxious to have my little one in my arms. I'm hoping that my faith and my love for him will help me through what I know is going to be a difficult and emotional time.