From the beginning of this pregnancy, I was convinced that I was carrying a girl. I just felt it. Just like I felt that Roman was a boy.
When my doctor told me that we were expecting another boy and not a girl, I was shocked to say the very least. I had felt so strongly that I was carrying our Clementine. Our girl. Dustin's Daddy's Girl. I was zero percent prepared for the possibility of having another son because I knew that it was a girl. Well, I was wrong, which was not only hard for me to admit (I don't like being wrong), but broke my heart a little bit. I had this whole lifetime of things planned out, things that I would share with my daughter. Ringlets and frilly dresses and hair bows. Barbies and baby dolls and all the other cliche, 'gender-specific' things that come with having a daughter.
All of the above came to a halt when I heard my doctor say, "There's the penis." Two boys? What am I going to do with two boys? I would be out-numbered 3-to-1 and the testosterone swirling around the room would be thick enough to cut with a knife! My house would be filled with muddy boots and army men and dead bugs brought in from outside. The thought of having TWO Romans, with all of the never-ending energy, strong opinions and ON-THE-GO-24/7 really scared the crap out of me. Would there be days that the two of them would cause so much brotherly havoc that I would just curl up into a ball on the living room floor and let them pillow fight my face? Would I look something like this on a daily basis:
It was very hard for me to accept that the baby in my belly was a boy. That I wasn't going to get my Clementine this pregnancy and that this might be my last pregnancy. I felt like a failure as a mother and a person for not being happy with what I had - so much of my life and what I preach is to be thankful for everything! There was a lot of guilt and jealousy that I felt, but I tried not to show it because those things don't help anyone. I would acknowledge my feelings, put them on a shelf in my head and try and focus on the things that were going well with the pregnancy.
Well, as you all know, my water broke eight weeks ago. I've been in the hospital on bedrest the past six weeks, fighting to keep this Teddy boy alive and well inside of me. Looking back, it seems like such an insult to this little bear that I was ever sad that he wasn't who I expected. Part of me felt like my rupture happened because I wasn't grateful for what I had been given, for my boy. I know, I know, I don't think that's really why it happened, (the doctors think that it's related to my bleed at 11 weeks) but every once in a while I'll get a whisper of a thought and immediately feel such horrible guilt that I wasn't 100% psyched with the sex of this baby.
Now, after fighting for us for this long and sacrificing so much with my Roman to save his brother, I feel so close to this boy who has hung on for so long. He's such a strong soul, he's playful and I have a feeling that he'll be much more relaxed that Roman. I hope he'll be my sensitive poet boy who loves animals and won't be so on-the-go that being cuddly with his Momma is out of the question (ahem, Roman, ahem). Who will he look like? I can't even begin to imagine what his face will look like... every time I try, I just come back to Roman's face because he's all I've ever known. Will he have curly hair? Dark hair? Grey and hazel eyes like Roman and Dustin or big browns like me? I am just so VERY thankful that we've been given the chance to meet him. For Teddy to continue to grow after my water broke at 22 weeks. Our goal is to keep him in here until he's 34 weeks unless he comes early. Because he's breech with his little butt sitting right on my cervix, and the fact that they don't anticipate that he'll move into the head-down position (I don't have enough water for him to do so), the doctor's have scheduled my c-section for January 3rd (34 weeks exactly). From there, if Teddy's lungs are in good enough shape (they have high hopes and we do, too), he may only have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks just to make sure that he's putting on weight and can maintain his body temperature. He might not even need any assistance breathing! No vent, no c-pap and no nasal cannula (the little clear tube that they put by your nose). It would be such a miracle if he didn't need any help breathing! I think he's a miracle no matter what happens, though. This kid has a serious will to live and I'm so very proud of him. He's given me courage and has pushed me past my comfort zone because now I WANT to someday be curled up on the floor getting the crap beat out of me with pillows by my two boys. Maybe next time we'll get our Clementine, but for right now, I don't want anyone other than my Teddy.
Three weeks and three days to go!