Heartfelt Ramblings

It's 5:50 pm. This is the time of day I am normally filling our plates with homemade dinner, wiping down the counters with lavender-scented Method spray, microwaving peas for William, looking forward to the next hour when I can flop down on the couch with a book and my husband or walk across the street to Brandi's wooden swing, hanging from her ancient live oak.

Today is different. I am 23 hours into mandatory bed rest, and my hands and legs are itching to stand up and stretch, to put the kitchen back in order, to clear the dining table, to make something. Rest does not come naturally to me today.

Yesterday was a normal day, with a meeting with new friends in the morning, lunch at home, and while William napped in the afternoon, I boiled half a dozen eggs that my sweet in-laws bought us at the farmer's market by the river. I made homemade bread and homemade pickled cucumbers. William woke from his nap and then, just that quick, a spot of blood. Again. On shaking legs I walked to the kitchen to find my phone and called our fetal specialist. She said to come in. 

I was barefoot, in shorts and a tank top because it's already 90 degrees in Austin. I picked up William, who was also barefoot and groggy from his nap, and opened the door to see if Brandi was home. She was getting the boys out of their car seats, home from school. I walked barefoot across the hot street and handed my barefoot boy to Brandi, who took him in her arms without questions and told me not to worry about him. 

Several weeks ago, when we learned we were having a boy, we chose the most beautiful name we could think of -- Joshua, after Joshua 1:9, "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." His middle name is Aiden, which means fiery one, because at each of the ultrasounds, Joshua has been so active that the sonographers have had a hard time capturing pictures of him.

Yesterday during the ultrasound, I cried and cried. Both Don and the sonographer told me to stop, that Joshua was doing fine and had a great heartbeat and was moving around. But I knew something was wrong.

Because of the blood clotting disorder I have, a large blood clot developed between the uterus and placenta, eventually ripping my placenta open by 25%. Our sweet boy is doing well, measuring large for his age and with a strong heartbeat, but the only treatment available is for me to be on bed rest and sit as still as possible. This will hopefully prevent the tear from widening. Once I am 23 weeks along, I will be admitted to the hospital for constant monitoring, and if we can make it to 28 weeks, we have a good chance of having a strong little baby who will live.

In the meantime, I am sitting still. I am counting blessings, because there are many. I am not dwelling on the hard things, the sad things, the fears and the restless legs. I am resting and waiting, on Joshua and on God. This is my best; this is all I have to offer. A broken heart that hopes, a torn open womb that still nourishes. This is the best I can do.

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."
-Psalm 51:17