Miracles

 

 

We have a daughter.

 

And we almost lost her.

 

In the last five days, I have been brought to my knees and humbled by the power of miracles. Because the thing is, she is still here, and that is indeed a miracle. Still, I pray for another one, and so  here I am, typing at my computer, praying for one more.

 

Late afternoon on Sunday, it became abundantly clear in a span of five seconds that something was wrong. That pressure I was feeling was my baby's sac, coming out. The terror I felt is indescribable, but I followed my instincts.

 

An ambulance ride later, Trevor and I were given devastating news. I was almost all the way dilated. There was very little cervix left. I was 22 1/2 weeks pregnant. Baby would probably not make it. But the doctor would try. We were given a 25% chance of success at the placement of an emergency cerclage. We took it.

 

I was put asleep and the surgery was performed. When I awoke, we were delivered our first miracle. The surgery went  remarkably well. The doctor was able to do the procedure with great success. Our chances of eventually delivering a healthy baby went to 80%.

 

It's a bit hard to fall to your knees when laying in a hospital bed in a recovery room, but in my mind and in my heart, I did. We were given a miracle. And I haven't stopped praying since.

 

The following morning, we had an ultrasound. Three - who was once announced as a he, is now most definitely a she.

 

We have a daughter. A daughter who is fighting to be here.

 

And I want to know her, with every fiber of my being.

 

So we wait. We wait for her to stay put, to grow, to arrive safely and healthily preferably in a few months time. But I understand that as I lay here on bed rest doing my part, the rest is in God's hands.

 

And so I pray for another miracle. The miracle to one day look my daughter in the eyes and say, "You have a way of making a point, my love."

 

I pray.

 

 

Transitions

 

It's November. And I have a knack for stating the obvious.

 

I do not know where time is going. I do know that we spend an awful lot of time in October on all things pumpkins and pumpkin patches and pumpkin donuts and pumpkin patch field trips and pumpkin craving and, of course, some good ol' fashioned tick-or-treating.

 



 

 

I love the fall. I love the switch to cooler mornings and crisper evenings. I love the greens turning to reds and yellows and oranges. I love the routine found at school with students finally settling in.

Those who know me best, however, would be able to verfiy with certainty that I do not, however, in general, love change. Transitioning is not my strong suit.

 

But fall. Fall I can do.

 

And I know I am biased, but my children are delicious. Delicious and hysterical and bouncing off the walls and so much freaking fun. I love them with every square millimeter of my body.

 

Speaking of tranisitions, the one growing inside me is a funny little bugger. I have decided I am naming him/her Ralph Macchio. 'Cause he/she is the next karate kid.

 

And yes, I said him/her. And he/she.

 

You think you're confused???

 

I realize I made a little announcement that looked a little something like this:

 

Well, let's just say a little trip to the Emergency Room for a little dehydration that came as the result of a little stomach flu resulted in a little ultrasound. And that little ultrasound resulted in a little conversation that went like this:

 

Doctor: Do you know what you are having?

Me: I think a boy!

Doctor: I wouldn't bet on that.

Me: What did you just say?

Doctor: I can't officially say anything, but do you see the thighs there?

Me: Yes.

Doctor: Well, there's "nothing" there. Make of it what you will.

Did I mention I don't do transitions well? Yeah, the Universe is a funny, funny Beast.

And yet, life is good and I know this, with all that I am.

I  love the fall, I love my babies, and I love Ralph Macchio.

The end.