optimism without borders

As an addendum to the previous post, I realize that my unbridled optimism must seem odd to others, but I can explain.  I realize fully that this pregnancy might fail again, but the chances of that are very small, compared to the chances of delivering at term or at least at viability.  Secondly, if this pregnancy does fail, I know without a doubt that no amount of pessimism and expecting the worst is going to prepare me for the pain that is to come.  If babyH dies, I will grieve just as much whether it was an unexpected event or something that was clearly predicted.  When I was pregnant with Adrian, and they told me that the chances of bringing him to viability are less than 20%, I did not believe it.  Not really.  When there is a live baby in your belly, kicking and feeling alive, you just don't register any of this stuff.  You worry, but you don't mourn ahead of time.  The work of mourning and grieving must be done afterwards, and there are no shortcuts to it.  You cannot prepare for it in any way.

However, there is one thing that I will regret if the worst happens, and that is not having lived this pregnancy fully.  Not having connected with the baby fully out of fear that he might die.  Not having enjoyed being pregnant and having pregnant woman hopes and dreams.  Poisoning my pregnancy with detachment.  If I only get to be a mother to this baby for another 10-11 weeks, then I want to be a mother to this baby for that time, I want to love him, watch him grow, dream about his future.  You know, normal pregnant woman stuff.  Nobody regrets having loved while it lasted, but I know a lot of people who regret not having loved when they had the chance, and now it is too late.

Speaking of which, here is babyH in two more days, he looks very cute and smart.  MrH and I laugh sometimes at night trying to imagine what he is thinking.  My bowels are very rumbly and noisy when I am pregnant, so MrH feels sorry for babyH having to listen to that symphony all night long.  Poor kid can probably not sleep for the noise.  Fortunately, I don't think he can hear yet, but soon enough he will. For now, I imagine him looking at his hands and wondering stuff like "wow, I've got fingers, but darn it these arm-things are not long enough for me to suck my thumb", or maybe "where did my awesome tail go?  I only just got used to it and it now disappeared."

I am amazed at all the transformations that my own body is going through, like the fact that my boobs seem to be getting more and more massive every day, but the baby is going through such amazingly fast transformations that he must be confused to no end as to his body image.  Fortunately, the little thing simply accepts life as it is.