He’s Here! Welcome To the World, Kristopher!

While it wasn’t in the way that we’d anticipated, Kristopher Donovan Estepp made his way into our family – and deep into our hearts – a few weeks early. My blood pressure had been on the rise for a little while, and while pre-eclamsia was a real threat, the protein had managed to stay out of the pees until the very end. Then my MFM decided she was just ready to give the go-ahead to avoid any further complications. I was admitted to the hospital Thursday afternoon, November 19. We prepared for a c section the next morning.

It was frightening. Since we were just at the hospital for observation, I didn’t really have anything with me. Clayton went back to the house to take care of the dogs, get our things, and stop by to bring me my last pregnancy meal (if you’re wondering it was Culver’s – chicken tenders and cheese curds) and my dad and stepmom came to visit for a bit. That night it was just keeping me comfortable and waiting for the morning to come.

I was pretty uncomfortable most of the night and the baby was extremely active. I only got a few hours sleep before 6 am hit and we were prepping me for surgery. First thing was me washing up with special soap and slipping into the hospital gown, then the nurse came in for my IV and shave and everything else. The anesthesiologist followed and explained to me what he’d be doing and I started taking medicine, including the gross citrus acid stuff that helps me not die while being under anesthesia. Clayton changed into his disposable daddy scrubs and after a quick visit from his mom we were off!

They had Clayton wait outside while they got me ready for surgery. I sat on the table and bent over and the skilled doctor started to do his thing with the spinal tap. It took a long time and there was one oopsie that almost had me jerking off the table but we got it done just in the nick of time. He’d said that if it took any more he would’ve just put me to sleep, so I’m glad that didn’t have to happen. I of course got sick and woozy as soon as it started hitting and they had to compensate for that but before I knew it I was stable, not feeling anything, curtain up and they were already carving into me apparently when they led Clayton in. He sat next to me and held my hand like a boss, which was just what I needed because I was suffering from some panicky anxiety. It didn’t seem like any time had passed until my doctor was talking about how he was breech again (he’d been head down on the ultrasound two days before) and well, that explained all the uncomfortable movements from the night before. He was flipping into the best c-section position for us! And then he was out, I heard him cry, and a big sigh of relief was had. And I cried a little bit.

Kristopher was 7 lb 10 ounces (he’d been estimated at 7 lb 14 oz the week before) and 21 inches long. He passed his APGAR with a 9/9 but his sugar was a bit low and was having a few breathing issues. Clayton went to be with little man and once I was stitched up we were all in recovery together for a bit. I was finally able to hold him! The first bit of skin to skin was awesome and I did not want to put my baby down. Unfortunately I had to, because we were going to separate places. He needed to be watched in the nursery and I had to be wheeled to my room (eventually). That’s when things started to not go as planned.

His breathing was not improving – he was having rapid bouts and super high respiration levels so they decided he needed to be sent to the NICU. The grandparents all got to see him before he was carried off, and Clayton got to spend a little more time with him. And that started my crusade to be able to go. Unfortunately, because I was on a magnesium drip, I had to stay in bed with a catheter in for 24 hours after delivery. It was the hardest time because I wanted to be there with him but couldn’t even go in a wheelchair. You better believe that once those 24 hours were up I was rabid about getting someone to wheel me down to the NICU to see my guy. It was hard holding him with so many wires and sensors connected to him, but it was 100% worth it.

We were both there for four days. He progressively got better (though there was a bit of jaundice scare at the end) and I recovered like a champ. By day 2 I wasn’t even using a wheelchair to go to the NICU at all. I was impressing every nurse that came in contact with me over how much I was doing so fast. To be honest, it’s why I feel like I’m doing so well now. The motivation to be near my boy and be recovered for him was all that I needed.

We’re all home now, obviously, and he just had his three week birthday. In the past three weeks we’ve moved 2 hours from our home, celebrated Thanksgiving, been through some struggles and some triumphs and it’s all been worth it. I love this little guy and so does his daddy. He makes our little family 100% complete and he really is the sweetest baby with the best disposition ever. I’ve never been happier, even when I’m drag-butt tired.

Childbirth After Adoption

18 years ago, I made a very painful decision: After having a baby completely too young and struggling with many things, including providing, I decided to give my baby girl up for adoption. She was almost a year old and it was a family situation with a relative who, along with her husband, was having fertility issues. I won’t go too much into that because that part is not my story to tell, but mentioning it is relevant. The adoption process was pretty quick and (on the surface) painless, and she got a new life being the only child of a very devoted mother and solid father, something I wouldn’t have been able to give her for a very long time. While I quite frequently wonder what if, I do not regret the action in and of itself.

Flash forward to now: Stable marriage, stable home. Our decision to start a family was honestly not an easy one, mostly because of my past. There was a part of me that didn’t think that I deserved happiness with a family because I “squandered” away my chances when I was younger. Throughout this entire gestation and family planning process I’ve had so many doubts and fears because of the way things went before. In my head I know I’m older, wiser, and overall more stable and things won’t be the same. It’s hard to rationalize that though when you’re worrying about everything from so many different angles. It’s a struggle.

With every day that passes I wonder what life could’ve been like had I actually gotten my stuff together years ago .. but I wouldn’t be where I am now, so I suppose there’d be a trade off. And right now I’m happy. I guess there’s no real point to any of this except musing. And lamenting that I always second guess myself now. I have faith that it’ll be ok though!

31 weeks down … Almost there!

Again it’s been ages since I posted. It’s for better reasons this time than my previous absence though. I’ve just been so busy preparing and living life that sometimes (read: all the time) I’m too tired to update this thing. I spend a lot of time on my Babycenter birth board too so that’s where I usually write things. I’m going to go through a lot of stuff though since it’s been almost a month.

We are now fully adjusted to life with Clayton doing 3 week Canadian rotations. We’ve worked out his leave and vacation from work for when the baby comes and have coincided it perfectly with the move. He comes home next Thursday, which will actually end up being Friday by the time he travels (10/16) and then he’ll be home for three weeks. He’ll go back out for two then come home with one week unpaid time off and 4 weeks of paternity leave / vacation time. Our plan is to move Thanksgiving weekend and have everything ready to go. My c-section has been scheduled for the 11th of December but I don’t think I’ll last that long and neither does the doctor. Still, that’s the time frame as we have it now.

My baby shower was September 19. My friend flew in from Vegas and it was a great bash. My friend Crystal worked sooo hard on it and everything was perfect. It was small but I got so many awesome presents and loved celebrating with everyone. There were minions everywhere and omg the cake was so good. All I can say is that Kristopher is a lucky little boy to have as many people who love and care about him as he does. I think everything’s gonna be all right. I had an amazing weekend and everyone that helped do things for it will have my eternal gratitude.

I’m having bi-weekly doctor appointments for both my regular OB and my MFM at this point. We keep having to increase my dosage of insulin at night because the placenta keeps raising my fasting blood sugars. This is something she told me would happen but it still is hard not to be frustrated sometimes. Blood pressure is steady which is good because pre-eclamsia has always been a risk factor. Baby is a little big but not alarmingly so, and overall I’m pleased with the health part of the pregnancy. I have had some pretty crazy itching on my hands and feet at night so today my doc ran a liver panel and bile test just to be sure that there was no cholestasis. I expect it to be normal though.

Next week we are taking maternity photos at a pumpkin patch. It’s sort of maternity/family and I’m doing pics for my friends too. It’s hard to feel good when I’m as big as a house – especially in the tummy – but I feel like I’d hate not having this part of my life documented, especially considering how hard I worked and planned to get here. Next time I post will be with new pictures!

Where My Head’s At

I didn’t know my mother.

Let me clarify. I knew her – I knew who she was, what her name was, even had a cursory relationship with her but I didn’t know her. Truth be told, it didn’t really even bother me that much until my mother’s funeral this summer. The preacher who was doing mother’s eulogy came up to me and my two siblings and asked us to tell him more about her. I felt bad for a fleeting moment that the only thing I could contribute was “she loved animals.” This was true. My mother bred dogs and horses for as long as I can remember and even worked managing a petsmart type store for many years. However besides that superficial fact? I couldn’t tell him anything. Nothing positive, anyway. It just didn’t seem like it would be a fitting place for “Brick House was her self proclaimed theme song. Can we have that at the funeral?”

I made jokes. I kept it light-hearted and it was for my own protection. I couldn’t really let myself get involved at this near-stranger’s funeral. I was there for my siblings, I was there for my grandfather. I was not there for my mother. The reality of that setting in has unsettled me in a lot of ways. I think being pregnant and so aware of the tiny life I’m about to have to mold in my own hands made it even worse to think of.

I was raised by my grandparents. Both of my parents were too young to have children – my father, the traveling touring musician and my mother, just irresponsible – so the responsibility fell upon her parents. I was loved fiercely and completely and never wanted for anything. My mother remarried not too long after she left my father and had two more children, my half brother and sister. My stepfather was a total monster and I barely had any interaction with any of them because of it. When I was nine years old, my grandmother was feeling poorly with back issues and just being too old to chase after a child my age. My mother promised to come get me by the end of Christmas break to move in with her. I didn’t see her for years and I might not ever have seen her again if she hadn’t run into my aunt at a horse sale my freshman year of high school.

So here I am, a young adult in my own right, forced to have a relationship with someone who obviously didn’t want to have one with me. It was awkward and honestly I felt like I had absolutely no choice in the matter. I enjoyed getting to know my brother and sister again. I lived with them for a semester in high school. It was both good and bad. It was great to have siblings and be around them on a daily basis, but it was tough with the parental guidance. In order to better pursue academic and musical interests, I found myself back with my grandparents.

My grandmother died when I was 19 and it was the hardest thing I had ever experienced. That was my mother, the woman who raised me and taught me things. And she was gone. And my mother couldn’t bother to be there for me. She wasn’t there for anyone. Even after that and on into adulthood I kept in touch with my mother, usually by email or quick message here and there though the years. I saw her once in my adult life (I say adult as in over 21) until she fell ill. She moved back to our hometown and my aunt became her main caretaker. Then she started to cling to her children, wanting us to come visit (I lived 13+ hours away at that time) and when I did come home just putting so much guilt on me to spend as much time there as possible that I just didn’t even want to spend any time at home at all.

My mother and I never resolved our issues. I never sat her down and asked why she felt it was ok to abandon her child at a young age. I never sat down with her and demanded explanations of how she can love my siblings so much more. I couldn’t even share happy times with her. I remember the months and days leading up to mine and Clayton’s wedding she kept telling me I still had time – I could call it all off. I would never be happy, etc. I let it blow into one ear and out the other. After all, she wasn’t coming and she had no plans to. Just earlier this year when I told her about our wishes to try to conceive, she thought I was crazy. Told me that having kids was the worst thing that could happen to a woman and why would I want to disrupt my life? (that’s a great thing to say to your oldest child, by the way). When we were pregnant I told her, overjoyed. I didn’t even remember really what she’d said until she acted so in shock. “Why would you do that? I thought you were kidding. Why would you ruin your life?” And more lamentations that my life was over and mourning something that I wasn’t going to miss. It was at that point that I had decided contact with my mother was toxic and needed to be limited. And of course, I never saw her again because she suddenly passed this summer.

I didn’t make it home before she passed. There was a day and a half of notice before it happened. My sister was there, but my brother hadn’t made it either. We were all expected to pay for my mother’s final expenses in thirds even though she was hardly a mother to me. I was expected to be a great daughter and handle everything because I was the oldest. I was expected to smile and go along with whatever when all I really wanted to do was be anywhere else. It wasn’t fair. Not to me, not to my siblings, not to anyone. My mother was not a great person. I will not pretend she was just because she passed.

A couple months have passed (and this is really the reason I’ve not felt like writing much. I’ve been in my own head, concerned with this, the baby, my husband’s new Canada assignment, our upcoming move and other things sapping my energy and my creativity) but a post I was reading on babycenter the other night really just kind of brought this issue to the forefront and I felt like I needed to talk about it. I feel better now, and I will try to write with more frequency. The next post will be a baby update, I promise.

It’s Been Over Two Weeks . . .

I promised to keep on myself for at the very least posting a Wednesday Gratitude every Wednesday no matter what. Then July happened.

On June 30, my husband came home from his very last offshore hitch. He will be starting rotations in Canada as I may have mentioned before which is both cool and scary at the same time. I was super excited to see him, but that was short-lived as he picked up the stomach bug that I had a few days prior that left me feeling grosser than gross. It hit him way harder. After a day of 101.4 fever and him developing worse symptoms, I took him to urgent care so that he could be seen. Out of all his symptoms they tunnel visioned on chest pains and ended up doing an EKG that was abnormal and resulted to him being sent to the ER in an ambulance. The EKG was also abnormal there, but as he was fine otherwise and was having no signs of anything heart related (including full bloodwork done) he was sent home with instructions to follow up with an electrocardiologist as soon as possible.

The next day, my mother died. It was really sudden. She went into the ER Monday (the day my husband came home) and was in hospice by that night, so three days later she was gone. What this meant for us was that we had to leave directly after my normal doctor appointments on Thursday and make a 14 hour drive to Tennessee. We got there around 8 am that Friday morning, the funeral visitation was at 10 am, the memorial at 1 and after a night’s rest and evening spent catching up with my family we were back on the road towards home Saturday morning. We got back in the wee hours late Saturday night. It was a lot to go through, especially while pregnant, but I’m just glad it was still early so I felt like travel and could do it safely.

I thought things were going to settle down and they did for a little while. The only problems I seemed to have were that I couldn’t keep my blood sugar high and stable enough during parts of the day, so I’ve been working with my doctor to work on that.

Clayton’s been pursuing figuring out what was wrong with his body and this past week we finally got some answers which posed more questions. The electrocardiologist said that Clayton does show the brugada syndrome pattern in his ekg from the hospital and the urgent care but that does not necessarily mean he has the syndrome. He’s going to have a test done but unfortunately it only has a 70% detection rate or so – so, if it comes up positive we will go straight to a pacemaker if I am correct in what I understood. If it is negative, we have three options. option 1 is do nothing and avoid medications that might kill him. Option 2 is put a chip in that may or may not tell when his heart is acting up. Option 3 is go into the hospital and aggressively test. Purposely take the meds that basically would set up a heart attack and if it shows up get a pacemaker.

Brugada syndrome is called the “Widow maker” because it has no warning usually before someone just drops dead from it. The pattern in the heart was detected on those EKG’s probably because he’d been suffering from a fever the day before and the timing was just great. I’m gonna thank God for that one because otherwise, if this is what we’re dealing with, something terrible could’ve happened. We are pretty sure if this test turns out negative we’ll go with option number 2 and just hope that it works. 3 is too terrifying for me to even consider, because even if he’s in a hospital what if they can’t revive him and something goes wrong? No thank you.

Lastly, today I about broke my arm. Slammed it into a heavy door that was swinging towards me and the hard metal handle cracked me right in the arm. There’s a ginormous knot and it looks pretty ugly but it is not fractured which is a good thing. I’ll take small miracles right now. Saturday Clayton leaves for driving training and his little sister comes to visit for a week. I will try to get back on track this coming Wednesday, but with her here who knows? It won’t be two weeks though, I can promise that. I know it sounds like a clusterbuck I’ve been through lately and while it has been, I am keeping positive and keeping happy. Life is good.

Wednesday Gratitude – Almost A Week Late

I feel like the worst person in the world for missing last week’s gratitude post. I’ve been adjusting to insulin and spending time with people and I just let the week get away with me. I’d meant to do it after my doctor’s appointment on Thursday, but then – oops! It just kept going on and here we are on Monday.

I really want to be consistent with this so I will be updating again this week. Keeping it real!

1. My Excellent Prenatal Care

I am so fortunate to have the doctors that I have. Not only do I have a kind, compassionate amazing obstetrician but I have a maternal fetal medicine doctor that is absolutely amazing. This entire team is working to manage any complications that come through and so far so good; should any health problems arise, I have every confidence that we will tackle it (and win) together. With hearing horror stories of people that want new doctors, that think theirs is unkind and uncaring. I’ve never once felt anything but comfortable in either doctor’s office … well, except for when the sonogram presses in deeply.

2. A Healthy Baby At My Age

I just am glad that at almost 38 years old and as a diabetic with high(ish) blood pressure there has been, so far, no abnormalities detected or chromosomal deformities. The risk gets increasingly higher as you age and yet the baby we are having seems to be perfectly fine. The knowledge of this has cancelled out any sort of misgivings about the gender of the baby, even though I was so set on having a girl. Healthy trumps everything, right?

3. Being Creative and Crafty

We knew from the beginning if we had a boy, we’d be doing our nursery in the Despicable Me minions theme. I will be posting a nursery update soon but I have started working on it. There really are no nursery decorations, no crib sets, no anything in minions style. I found some wall decals and cute little toy chests at Michael’s but everything else? I am making it myself. Luckily I have found cloth at Wal Mart and Jo Ann’s fabrics. I have gotten three types of minions cloth and a few solid colors to coordinate. Right now I’ve got one crib bumper side and half of the blanket done. After looking online and seeing custom crib sets for upwards of $500-600 and that’s not counting decor, curtains or anything, I’m going to come out with most of our decorations and bedding for under $50 because I am designing and making it all myself. Then, once it’s all ready, I will possibly sell other sets. I’m just thankful that God gave me the creative ability to do all of this on my own for a fraction of the price.

I really, really have a lot to be thankful for and I’m reminded of that every time I make these posts. So that being said, I think it’s a good thing. I will keep on them and hopefully do them in a little more timely fashion.

Cheer Up, Buttercup . . .

I was considering on making a big update tomorrow with my gratitude post, but I remember last week’s post and it was really half complaint, half gratitude. So I decided to make this heavy post today to leave tomorrow’s light-hearted and thankful like Wednesdays are supposed to be.

It’s crazy because I do have so much to be thankful for. I am of advanced maternal age, high risk, and diabetic. There are so many reasons why I couldn’t have a healthy baby but I have defied all the odds and all the NT and genetic testing came back completely healthy and fine. When I take that into consideration my heart is happy and I am proud of the work I’ve done. I should be flying high, but …

It’s a boy.

My heart was set on this baby being a girl. Gender disappointment is a real thing, and for someone who normally struggles with anxiety and depression and can’t take their medication it magnifies it even worse. I’m lucky though because I have the support system of an amazing family on both sides and the sting of not having the girl I want is already starting to fade. The thing is, I believe everything happens for a reason. God gave us a boy – a healthy, perfect baby boy – for a reason. It’s not my job to question him or control freak every bit of this pregnancy. That has given me the most solace over anything else.

In actual struggles, I started insulin today. I was taking metformin but because of the way a pregnant body works during pregnancy, the doctor decided to go ahead and put me on insulin which is fine. I take 28 units of novolog and 56 units of humulin in the morning and 21 units of each at night. I have to eat six times a day which means I make alarms on my phone to remind me because that is how scatterbrained I am. I have to wear this stretchy wristband that says “diabetic” on it and keep juice and crackers hidden everywhere around the house. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up and end up collapsed somewhere at home by myself. It really sucks but I’ll keep working at it and hopefully not mess up.

Now I try to put together a Despicable Me nursery and plan for Kristopher Donovan to come into our lives in December. No matter how whiny I am, life is good. Everything is good and will be fine.

Wednesday Gratitude Time Again!

I had to make sure I didn’t forget to make a Wednesday gratitude post. I have the tendency sometimes to start something with good intentions and then just not follow through. I get busy, I can’t be bothered to do something on the same day every day, things like that. I have plenty to be thankful for this week, and while I was hoping knowing the gender of baby E would be on that list, I haven’t gotten that magical call yet. I really want to call in and stalk them to see if it’s come in, but I won’t. I’ll be strong. Only a few more days, right? So without further ado, here is what I am most thankful for today:

1. A Clean Breast Ultrasound

I’d been having some sharp bordering on severe pain in one of the girls and my doctor, after not feeling anything out of the ordinary, decided to send me down for an ultrasound just to be on the safe side. It was today and those results came back immediately. Everything looked normal and fine. Of course I’m still hurting periodically, but as long as I know there’s nothing wrong I can deal with that. Everything is just fine. Now if only my other test results would come in!

2. Our Family’s Adaptability

Earlier this week we were given a pretty sudden shock: instead of the nice Monday-Friday here in Houston job my husband was going to be given, he’s being transferred to Canada for six months to a year. He’ll fly to some northern remote part of British Columbia for four weeks, then come home for four weeks off and on until the end of November when he’ll be off for the baby’s arrival. I know we’ve been doing this for three years but there was a finite end to it and we were looking forward to this next hitch being his last one. Now we’ve got to adjust all over again. And while I know this seems like it’s a bit of complaining, it’s really just back story. I was upset and worried but we’ll get through it. The outpouring of support and friendship from people as I talked about it on Facebook and in person was quite good. We have a great network of family and friends to support us and help keep us sane and ultimately we will adapt and get through it and that’s what I love about our family.

3. Sleep, Glorious Sleep . . .

As I progress further along I am finding more of my energy; however, I still am needing a good night’s sleep to recharge to tackle my day. The weekends are tough for me because I have to get up so early on Sunday mornings (for a great reason) and i almost always take a nap when we get home Sunday afternoons. Right now, I’m completely thankful for any ounce of sleep I get.

That’s it for today! Hopefully the next post I make will be announcing what gender this little bean is!

A Day of Doctors

Yesterday was a pretty long day. I’m going to detail as much of this as I possibly can, but who knows if I’ll remember everything because it was a lot of information to let sink in. It also started fairly early (for me), but by the end of the day I was both elated and exhausted.

I’ll start with a little backstory. I was diagnosed with type II diabetes a year and a half or so ago, but I didn’t really care to control it – that is, I didn’t care until I started to try to get pregnant. The OB that I saw at the first of the year told me I couldn’t get pregnant if my diabetes was uncontrolled. She said I shouldn’t start, and I wouldn’t be responsible, and a few other things. I decided to accept that challenge. Stubborn me started to control my diabetes. My family doctor did my blood work in February and it was a 9.0; now, granted, I’d not been on good medication and I hadn’t been taking care of myself, but the doctor was going to put me on insulin if I had another A1C that high.

At my last doctor’s appointment they took eight vials of blood for testing and what-not, one of those tests of which were another A1C. I had called and got the results before hand and it had gone down to a 5.9! All the work that I’ve done has paid off! I hadn’t gotten any feedback from the doctor though so that was due yesterday.

I started the morning at 10:30 with the genetic counselor. She asked Clayton and me about our ethnic background (apparently calling my husband a “mutt,” even if it was in an endearing and loving way, gets dirty looks from both Clayton and the counselor). She explained some risks that we had from my age and we opted for the blood work that tests for chromosomal abnormalities. This test also tests for gender so I was just 100000% on board for it! She didn’t think there were any other real risks so that was the only thing we really did. She did explain how I am a carrier of the color blind gene because my dad is color blind. It’s passed down through the X chromosome from the father to the daughter. So, if we have a son there’s a 50% chance he’ll be color blind. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s something to look out for.

After I was done with her I had my first appointment with the Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) doctor and it was better than I was bracing myself for. They did the NT scan and I got to see my little baby on the screen! He or she was jumping around and swimming all over and they couldn’t really get a good still shot, but they did date the baby six days further ahead than my regular ob. At their calculations I should be due December 12, which was a day off of my calculations and more accurate from when I know I ovulated and conceived. She talked to me about managing my diabetes and blood pressure and when I told her about my previous 9.0 A1C she was over the moon with my progress. She was kind and considerate and gave me lots of helpful tools. I left that office feeling amazing and happy.

After a lunch at Jason’s deli, I went to get my blood drawn for the genetic testing. With that out of the way it was time for my afternoon appointments. I had the briefest visit ever with my doctor, but it went well. I only gained four pounds (much to my amazement) and she said she wasn’t ready to move my due date up just yet, which is fine. I still think december 12 is right and she will eventually too. She thought everything was fine and she congratulated me on taking care of myself. It felt good.

When I was done there, I had a visit with the business office of the ob and we had a discussion about the insurance and what we’d have to pay if our out of pocket maximums weren’t met already. I’m glad they were because being high risk, old, and needing a C section? Well let’s just say the charges are pretty astronomical. I’m glad that we timed the baby like we did. Big props to God for allowing our time table to be his time table.

Last but not least, a baby photo!

pregnancy blog

Wonderland of Emotions

Pregnant emotions are like a roller coaster. When they’re good, they’re great. It’s like gleefully soaring and glowing and everything you read about and watch on tv. The low points? The low points are terrible. And it’s been pretty low the last couple of days. I’ve been quite stressed over some very heavy stuff (not relationship related, of course, because that’s just near perfect). It’s the kind of stuff that keeps one up at night. I should know better than to worry like I do, but unfortunately I haven’t been able to take my anxiety medicine because it’s not baby safe. It just amplifies every little concern I have. I know that if you pray about it and give it up it’s going to be ok, and that proved itself to be true today. The worries I had were all taken care of and I am able to relax, because let’s face it – worrying and stress is bad for baby.

I’m thankful for living in the area that I do and going to the church that I do. Having friends and family around makes all the difference in the world and having the loving supporting family that is our church home has been a bigger comfort than I had even imagined. Their love and support made me sob like a little baby in a good way. While my emotions are insane, I am appreciative of every little feeling I feel. It means I’m pregnant and happy. I have a week until another round of doctor’s appointments. I see my Maternal Fetal Medicine (high risk) doctor, Dr. Earhart, Thursday morning and then my regular ob/gyn Dr. Zhavala that afternoon. I am anxious to see that everything is coming along well.

My husband continues to be a pillar of strength and the biggest helper I could have. While I know that him going back offshore would be a monetary help right now with the cutbacks his job made, I do have to admit that I’m happy to have him here for next week’s appointments. It’ll be a comfort not having to be alone.

This is an endeavor and not every minute is going to be perfect. Fortunately, I have a great support system and everything is going to be just fine. My faith is strong.