Today, I am 27 weeks pregnant. There is a four out of five chance our babies will survive if they are born now. It's a statistic that is both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
But I am grateful. Before bedrest, the weeks flew by, I hardly paid attention. Now, every day is hard-earned. Every day, my babies have a better chance of surviving, of being healthy.
My mood has become less stable, even as the babies grow stronger; I try to stay positive but the cloud of worry hangs over my bed. I am dreading my OB appointment on Wednesday because I don't want any bad news, yet I am nervous about waiting 8 days between check-ups. The house is running smoothly with my Mom staying with us, yet I am concerned about how DH and Bean will function without her, especially when I am in the hospital. I want the babies to bake as long as possible, yet I have little confidence that we can handle extended bedrest and hospitalization.
And as I learn more about the NICU, it's scary that this could likely be the easy part of getting the babies home safely.
It is a very gloomy post today, I'm sorry. I have been looking forward to this day, a Sunday, all week -- but I'm grumpy nevertheless. Maybe it's the dreary, rainy Seattle winter outside my window. Maybe it's the newest Harry Potter movie we watched last night, I forgot how depressing that book was. Maybe it's because the overwhelming blue paint that the previous owners chose for the master bedroom makes me feel like I'm trapped inside a giant blueberry.
But as far as an update goes, that's really all I've got. I'm hanging in there. Nothing disastrous has happened since my last post. Next OB visit is Wednesday afternoon. The babies flip and kick constantly, as if to provide a comforting reminder that they are strong and determined. My bed is full of the crumby evidence of countless meals and snacks, despite the dog's best attempts to remedy that, but at least my electric leg shaver arrived from the merciful folks at Amazon.com.
For today, we are all okay.
And on a better note, I farmed the camera for some shots of my little munchkin. He really is a riot these days. He talks up a storm, with new words (and instructions for the rest of us) cropping up constantly. And he's really bonded with my mom -- having consistency of care again means a better behaved Bean. And a happier house overall.
Bean gets some love from Grandpa B. and Grandma C. during our Christmas visit.
Anyone up for some football?
It may not be as exciting as a ball, but he enjoys his radio-controlled car.