Monday, July 25, 2011

basket case momma

dearest baby,

it's been so long since i've taken the opportunity to jot down my feelings.
most importantly, my feelings about you.
the truth is, it's really hard to put it all in words.
the most powerful emotion i feel is love.
love and excitement.
but i'd be lying if i didn't tell you that sometimes i'm too afraid to even feel excited.
your aunt leigh summed it up perfectly when she said that she was so dang excited....and on edge....and thrilled....and scared to be thrilled....and hopeful....and nervous...and happy.
that's everything i've been feeling and more.
these past few weeks have been such a whirlwind of anxiety, and fear, and doubt, not to mention weak stomach, and frazzled nerves.
your daddy and i got to see you about three weeks ago.
that was one of the most beautiful things i have witnessed in a very long time.
your perfect little gummy-bear-shaped-body, and seeing that little flicker on the screen.
we were told that that was your heartbeat.
i can't even describe to you how happy it made your mommy seeing your little heart working and pumping the way that it was.
brought instant tears to my eyes.
i uttered a silent prayer of gratitude to our Heavenly Father for blessing us with such a perfectly sweet and tender moment.
the moment of meeting you for the very first time.
it truly was remarkable.
they said you were measuring perfectly, and that your heart rate was right on target.
and they gave us gobs and gobs of photos.
we walked out of that office, two of the happiest and proudest parents on the planet.
over time, however, that cloud i had been floating on,
started to sink...
i let fear and doubt set in.
despairing thoughts started to overtake me.
i stopped sleeping at night.
for days i refused to even get myself ready in the mornings.
pregnancy symptoms started to decline...
and i began mourning your loss.
i figured that only in the next life would i be blessed to have more children.
i cried a lot.
oh baby, i hope you will forgive me.
it's just that after losing so many, it's hard to believe that one might actually stick.
obviously i need to have more faith in my Heavenly Father and his perfect plan for our family. i'm working on that.
i had a blessing from your father.
he blessed me with peace.
but my heart and mind kept fighting it.
i was still convinced that you were no more, that your perfect heart -which had once been strong and beating -was now still.
i just knew that it wasn't meant to be.
a few days ago i shared my feelings with your grandpa pitts, and then later with grandma judy.
both of them counseled and urged with all the love and concern in their hearts for me (and for you, and for our family), that i needed to call my nurse.
i hesitantly agreed, and then picked up the phone.
i told her that i didn't think i was pregnant anymore, and that the anxiety i was experiencing as i convinced myself of this possibility was too much to bear.
she told me to come in the next day for an ultrasound.
that was last friday.
i cried a good portion of the day.
all sorts of ugly, and horrible, and heartbreaking, scenarios entered my head.
but finally the hour arrived.
your daddy came with me.
my heart was racing as they lead us down a long corridor to the dark room at the end of the hall. my palms were sweaty.
my head pounding.
i lay on the table as the sonographer squirted the warm gel, and then positioned her wand just perfectly.
not 3 seconds later, we heard her say, see that cute little flickering heart beat?
and i sighed.
a HUGE, ginormous, gigantous (as grandma judy would say) sigh of relief.
and of gratitude. and of overwhelming and indescribable joy.
there you were, sweet baby, kicking your little legs, waving your little arms, showing off your two most perfect feet.
you reminded me of a darling little peanut...with limbs.
the nurse took so many pictures of you that she had to put them all on a disk.
it's a gift i will forever cherish.
my doctor prescribed me some benozs so that i can finally relax a little and get some sleep at night.
i had to take them with your sister, ruby, too.
i was just the biggest basket case after losing your big brother, isaac, and lived every night in fear of losing her, too.
i know that you are here to stay, though, sweet baby.
you are in the hands of the greatest physician of all, even our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
also taking care of us are the best (some even world renowned) perinatalogists out there.
they have promised to take care of us weekly until you are here...
safe and sound.
guess what that means, my little one? i get to see you in 5 more days!
your daddy and i can hardly wait.

i love you so,

your (basket-case) momma