Until today, I’ve maintained a fairly private online persona. While I do share the occasional photo of our sweet two year-old or our loveable but obnoxious pup…little glimpses into my personal life…I’ve remained mostly classified online. But Mike and I have suddenly found ourselves in a situation that is too overwhelming not to share. The past journalist in me is going to apologize right here and now for the typos that will infect the following entries. I’ll do my best not to swear in print…at least on this blog…but no promises. My brain has ceased to work at its normal capacity. I suppose it, too, is experiencing a new normal like everyone else in my family circle right now. This is me, raw and unhinged. Hi.
Most of you know by now that Mike and I are expecting our second baby…a little girl who we have already named Hannah. Only some of you know that at Hannah’s 20 week ultrasound, we discovered she has a spinal cord defect. For weeks after that life-changing day, Mike and I lived at rock bottom. Every week there were slews of scary tests, overwhelming speculation. But by the Grace of God, we started to receive the best bad news we could get. Things aren’t ever going to be normal for Hannah. But things could be so much worse. We made the conscious decision to start feeling strength in that. “Things are bad now, but will be OK in the end.” We relaxed and allowed the excitement of meeting our new precious girl dominate the nerves.
I went to my routine 30 week OB visit last Monday. We had just celebrated Eloise’s second birthday two days before. Mike had just hopped a plane to Iowa for business that morning. Everyone was in good spirits. Ten weeks to go!
And then.
A routine ultrasound showed a dangerous complication. My OB insisted I check into Labor and Delivery at the hospital immediately for monitoring and next steps. “Where’s Mike?,” she asked, her eyes full of sympathy. “He’s just landing in Iowa. Should I get him back?” She grabbed my hand and nodded her head.
WHAM. Another sucker punch.
(This is where I have to make the conscious effort not to swear.)
I won’t go into the details about the scrambling that ensued with my mom, Eloise, Mike, my inlaws (who were thankfully still in town) and Dorey the dog. In the end, everyone was settled and I checked into Labor and Delivery, 10 weeks prematurely. And there I stayed for four days, bracing myself for the probability the doctors would keep me there for 4-6 weeks. I’m not a woman who loves being pregnant. I never in my life would have expected the words, “But I want to stay pregnant as long as possible!” to cross my lips. Oh, but they have. Frequently. And that’s still my feverish hope. We caught a break when our massive team of doctors surprisingly discharged me on the condition that I rest at home and come in for bi-weekly checks. The hope is that Hannah continues to do well so she can stay put for another 4-6 weeks. She needs to be as strong as possible for an uphill battle once she’s born.
Will this current situation stick? No one knows. We are living day to day, stress test to stress test. A literal heartbeat away from heading back to the hospital for emergency induction. But hey…we made it to August, right? Based on last week’s antics, I’m thrilled. I’d do just about anything to make it to September. But I’m going to pack my hospital bag, anyway,…just in case.
So, short of the last ten sessions that I will be happily editing with my feet up at home, JSP is officially on hiatus until January first. When Eloise was born 3 weeks early, I had 8 sessions to frantically reschedule, delegate or cancel. This time, it was 28. Ha. Hahaha. Start laughing, Jen Soares, so you don’t cry. Thank God for you, dear clients, for being so understanding and considerate and sympathetic. Thank God for you, photographer friends, for taking care of those dear clients’ needs while I’m unable to. Thank God for our friends and family without whose prayers and support over the past few weeks we would have absolutely crumbled.
We know each other pretty well by now, friends. I’ve had the immense pleasure of watching your first babies grow up from chubby, squeezable little nuggets to rambunctious, smiley toddlers. And then I’ve joyfully helped welcome additional babies, celebrated moves to new houses or shared in your grief over the loss of family members, pets or other life tragedies. In turn, you’re also shared in my personal joys and loses. We’ve shared laughs and hugs, and I can honestly say that getting to know all of you and to capture your family moments over the years has been one of the biggest blessings of my life.
I’m sharing this extremely personal experience in an attempt to bury the “why us?!” part of this journey and readjust my thinking. We are in for quite the ride. Thanks for joining us.
