Post-Miscarriage Pregnancy Baggage

It has been brought to my attention that there are 55 days until Baby Day.  This was thanks to the huge bulge causing me to not fit my clothes.  And the heartburn that's piercing my chest.  Oh, and those pesky appointments the OB doctor continues to insist that I attend.

But I really am having a hard time grasping the reality of the situation.  I blame the miscarriages.

There's still a stigma of believing this baby is coming.  It's like a mental block.  Can I really let myself believe that I'll get to hold a little beautiful baby in just 55 days?  A part of me says, "Yes!"  But there's still a part of me that is afraid the answer might be No.

That's the part that has been sneaking into my brain a bit too much.  Things are obviously different this time.

Usually by this point in the pregnancy I...

• have a large stock of diapers 
• have my to-do list of cleaning nearly finished
• have baby clothes washed and put away, ready for baby
• prepare for whatever holidays will be happening directly after the baby is born
• call the baby by the name we plan to give him/her

I'm trying.  I'm really trying to have the faith that this is happening.  My small stockpile of 4 bags of diapers is slowly growing.  My cleaning to-do list is still just mentally composed, but I hope it will be on paper soon and then actually carried out.  I received a couple boxes of climate-appropriate clothing from one of Josh's coworkers and this has saved me.  I totally forgot that the few little baby clothes I have in boxes in the garage were for a baby born in Montana in December and not a baby born in Arizona in May.  I know I need to have Abby's birthday and even Matt's birthday and baptism somewhat prepared for since they will be happening pretty quickly after the baby comes.

Which brings me to my last point of hesitation.  The baby's name.  We've told the kids what we plan to name our baby.  They all refer to her by the name.  In fact, Millie not only calls the baby by her name but readily identifies things for the baby and makes the connection between the two.  So taking a cue from my 3-year-old, I have made more of an effort to call our baby by the name we plan to give her, Sarah.  Sarah Rebekah Louise.

I've learned that I'm not the only post-miscarriage pregnant woman who has been slow to accept reality.  This makes me feel better.  Maybe I'm not losing faith.  Maybe I'm just normal.  In the meantime I plan to remind myself to do the things I know I'll want done.  And it may not be until I hold that precious baby girl (Sarah) in my arms that this all finally hits me.  

55 days.