On a day-to-day basis, all is well in our little world. Pickle is growing. And so am I. Mr. B and I are living our lives — and taking time out to enjoy them, together.
But, then, some small, seemingly insignificant thing happens that reminds me — us — how … difficult … how … different … this situation is right now.
This week, I canceled the breastfeeding class I was scheduled to take. I have always looked forward to breastfeeding my babies. It’s something I, uniquely, can do for them. And it’s something I know can help with our bonding. (Not to mention how good it is for the baby.) But, with Pickle’s very special situation, it’s unlikely she’ll be breastfeeding right away — if ever. And it seemed like such a waste of our time and money to sit through a class that will do me — or Pickle — no immediate good. Besides, I honestly don’t know if I can sit through a class with all of those happy pregnant women and their healthy, pregnant bellies — no matter how happy I am for them that their baby-dreams are coming true.
(This is not to say that Pickle will never breastfeed. Because she very well could down the line — and I so hold out hope for that happening. But, our situation will be unique to us, with a special set of challenges that I don’t believe a traditional breastfeeding class can help me with. There will be doctors and nurses and specialists and consultants for that when the time comes.)
When I hung up the phone after canceling that appointment, it all hit — again — like a ton of bricks. And I haven’t been able to shake it.
Some days hope is hard. Positivity is hard. Focusing on the good things ahead is hard. At least for today.
It is, however, with hope — and fear — that I look forward to tomorrow’s appointment with the pediatric cardiologist. We’re finally having a fetal echocardiogram. And we’ll finally get some actual answers and, possibly, somewhat of a plan for how we’re going to handle Pickle’s care. It’s been almost two months since we first found out about Pickle’s heart. Two long, question-filled months. And it will be good to at least have some direction — even if we know nothing they can do for Pickle will ever “fix” her heart. And, no matter what they say, the B Family Three has a long road ahead of it.
Before I sign off, and because it’s not good, or healthy, to only focus on the negative things — no matter how BIG they seem — I want to share the bit of good news I got this week. For me and for Pickle:
So, even though losing all that weight and getting my body in “baby-making condition” didn’t save Pickle’s heart, at least it did help so we won’t have any other issues to deal with along the way.