I am 21 weeks pregnant today, and holding my breath. I started spotting yesterday. Mild, pink spotting. Two midwives telling me "It's most likely nothing to worry about" spotting. But that doesn't stop me from worrying. Because somehow in the midst of the "Are you kidding me? Now!!??" reaction to the initial positive pregnancy tests, and the weeks of negativity that gradually led from ambivalence to acceptance to excitement, I've become very attached to this little person growing inside of me. I can't wait to meet him or her (and find out if it's him or her!) and add their personality and prescence to our home.
I feel the baby move every day, several times a day. I adore that feeling, and the secret communication between my baby and me always brings a smile to my face. Ashlynn felt the baby move for the first time tonight, the first of the family to have that physical manifestation of his or her prescense.
I've never spotted in any of my healthy pregnancies.
It could be nothing. It could be something. There's nothing for me to do now but wait it out, and see what presents itself.
We have had so many medical dramas, surgeries, trips to doctors offices and emergency rooms in the past two years that psychologically, it's hard for me to fathom that something could go smoothly, normally, or proceed without a hitch.
I am clinging to my deeply-held belief that birth is normal, that my body isn't broken, that I know how to grow, nourish, and birth a healthy baby.
I am 21 weeks. I have 3-4 weeks left until the baby is considered viable, and a good 16 weeks before we're considered full term.
I'm hanging on for the ride. Prayerful, emotional. Hopeful.