lately I've felt so internalized. It's hard for me to be polite to strangers, when before it was natural. I'm not saying I'm rude, just not as smiley and happy as before. It's hard for me to want to talk to anyone not family or a close friend.
I hate waiting. I hate not being able to do anything. I hate not being told everything is okay, and instead being told that there is a 50% chance everything will be okay.
I saw my baby move. Saw the little legs kicking and the arms swinging around. When picture time came, the baby rolled up into a little ball. nah nah nah can't see me!
How can that little life be so tenuous?
I am trying to stay positive. I am visualizing the placenta holding on to the uterine wall with all it's might, sending oxygen and life to the baby.
I close my eyes and picture myself with a big belly, in the heat of summer, barefoot, picking peas, the warmth of the sun on my head, the grit of the sidewalk beneath my toes.
I picture myself with a tiny new one, cuddled up in bed next winter, feeling the little body rise and fall with breath. I picture the tiny fingers, curled around mine. I picture Kaia with her hand on the new one's back, gently stroking the soft skin, and I picture us smiling at each other.
This will happen. My baby is strong. I am strong.