Part 2 of the Jedi Series~The Time of Resolve

This is a story of a journey, it is not intend to scare or shock. The language used is carefully selected and may be offensive, I make no apologies for it.
I welcome you to share it.
This is dedicated to the one I love.Continued from Part 1

When I was pregnant with my 4 babies, something that I would always do was hold my belly, every chance I got. I imagined them swimming below my fingers, and wondered if they could feel the pressure, and were reacting to it. In ultrasounds and later when I could feel them moving, they would always move towards my hand, and I would wonder if it was their head, their back, or maybe it was their hand too, reaching out for me.
I reveled in the fact that I had my babies so close to me, and that I could pause and feel them, letting them know I was thinking of them, even when I was very early pregnant.
Before the scare, I would fall asleep with my hand on my belly, and wake up in the same position.
When I came home, I didn't. Its not that I didn't want to. I did. I just felt so fucking vulnerable, you know?
I wasn't ready to connect again with this little person, so soon, after being told that it could just be a matter of time. That the pregnancy could indeed, be on its way out.



13 weeks
After we were out of the danger zone, I began to relax. I decided that even though this pregnancy was not a promise that we would get a baby, I reveled in the fact that at the moment, I was indeed with child.
Many an ultrasound showed that although the baby was okay, that there was a separation and blood, lots of blood, pooling between the placenta and the baby.
Modified bed rest was ordered and I was told that there was no way to know if it would make a difference at all. And it was truth. Some nights I bled so much just laying down, I was scared to go to the bathroom and evaluate the situation. Other days I would go out to dinner or a movie and absolutely nothing would happen for another few days.  

In between my incessant ultra sounds my belly continued to grow, the baby inside, seemed a little rambunctious, okay a LOT of rambunctious, I swear the kid was moving boxes in there. Which made sense when we found out it was a boy.
A boy but not a promise, is what I told myself, as we walked to the car from our 4D ultrasound..
In order to cope with the uncertain future, I decided not to buy anything for the baby just yet. Not even step foot in the baby section at stores.
Okay, okay, I definitely glanced.
But I continued to celebrate the moments as they came. Each kick. Every time my boyfriend placed his hands on my belly.
I savored it. Taking a mental snapshot and praying that I would never forget it.

 

16 weeks

At around 20 weeks, I began bleeding a lot and it wasn't stopping, again. This time I was met with the most horrifying news, I was dilating.
I spoke to my best friend before they admitted me and a part of me indeed, wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The other part of me, wanted facts.
If I had the baby now, would they let me see him? Hold him? Can I take pictures?
These are not things I ever imagined texting my best friend so calmly.
She replied that she didn't know. Some hospitals say the baby would just be medical waste.
"I will cut a bitch" is what I texted back.
They debated whether to admit me at all, but since there was a few beds open they decided it was better for my own health if I were here, in case I needed a blood transfusion.
They told me if I were 24 weeks, they would then try to stop labor.
The night was horrendous. I had never been away from my boyfriend for the night and demanded that he sleep in the room with me.
Thankfully my dialating went back down to zero, and I was released.
After all, there was really nothing that could be done.

The following week I was hospitalized again. The Dr I had wanted me to go to a bigger hospital, one that had neonatologists. I was nearly 22 weeks, and I will never forget the nurse reading back the orders from the Dr on call and telling me she was surprised they were giving me meds to stop my contractions.
Another nurse told me my baby was probably just going to die. And that I could try again in a few months.
She said this as the baby kicked LOUDLY on the monitor, and I replied to her with "Get the fuck away from me, my son is FINE."

And THAT is where my mindset changed.
Maybe I didn't have a whole lot of faith in the pregnancy, and I didn't know what the outcome would be. But, I DID have faith in my son's HERCULEAN attempt to grow every single day, despite bleeding straight from the placenta that he needed to survive off of, and he demonstrated his determination by kicking my insides so hard that I jumped or shouted.
He was there. All along he was there. When I was lying still at 11 weeks crying and dry heaving, he was there, he was there even when I couldn't bring myself to touch my belly to feel him, he was there in my heart before he even took up space in my baby hotel, that's how fucking THERE he was.
And I believed in him.

I had faith that if he made it this far, he would not be stopping any time soon.
Not if I was his mother.
I was released from the hospital with a new found mission. My sons mission. He could do this. I just knew he could. And I was going to use every last drop of will power and positivity I had ever gained in my whole life, to make it happen.

And it was a good thing my mindset shifted. Because soon, everything would change.

the last picture @25 weeks
"Live long and prosper"