Natalie's Room

I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon and share a recent photo of Natalie's room. This is my last week at work and I'm busy making preparations. I think I'll actually break down and wash her clothes next week. It's strange--as anxious as I am about bringing her home, the only thing that helps me get through it is to continue to get everything ready for her arrival. I know some people would be so paralyzed by fear that they'd worry about jinxing things.

Let's be clear. I'm scared to death. No amount of scans or tests can convince me of what I know. My first baby died, and I am in the unusual position of knowing more people whose babies have died than have come home. (Yes, this is a true statement. I still don't have a lot of close friends or co-workers with children, I don't have siblings, and DH's friends and family had their children a while ago). It reminds me of my friend, M., who spent her early career working with children with cancer. When she had her son, she was shocked that he was healthy, because all the other children in her life had cancer.

For me, the choice to have another child is a try without a guaranteed outcome. It's a leap of faith, and faith is not something I'm very big on, being someone who tends to rely on a combination of facts and intuition. Every week that Natalie is still with us is a joy and a relief, but pregnancy is still a scary place for me to be and I look forward to the day she is living on the outside, in the safety of the home that has been awaiting her for what feels like years. I hope my OB will agree to induce me earlier than 39 weeks if I am going crazy and ask politely.

Update: Natalie's biophysical profile and fetal echocardiogram were excellent last week, as was my blood pressure, urine, and weight. She currently weighs about 4 pounds, 11 ounces, which I worried was a bit on the small side (I am not accustomed to being in the 20th percentile of anything!), but she's completely normal for dates. Dr. C. asked how nervous I was feeling, and I said I was ready to go, to which she replied, "Let's just get you to 36 weeks." Is this the opening I am hoping for? I'd be happy with 38. I'm sure my mother would be happy with a set date, too, since I think she's worried she's going to miss the birth!

*****

The instructor of our newborn care class made a comment to the effect of, "If you think you've got it bad, just be glad you're not a penguin," referring to the film, March of the Penguins. I thought, "Lady, if you're referring to the fact that lots of penguins don't make it due to the harsh conditions under which they are conceived, let's get something straight: some [human] babies die, too." I rented the film yesterday afternoon and was all weepy, of course. (Morgan Freeman's narrations get me every time.) The film did acknowledge the death of baby penguins, but I was struck that the only thing that was mentioned about the bereft mother penguins was that they were so overcome with grief that they would try to steal another mother's baby, which the other mothers would not allow. I wondered what happened to them after that. Were they shunned from the community? Did they return home without their baby or wait for the father to return to show him what happened? Would this decrease their chances of finding a suitable mate next season? That's the story I'd really like to hear.