What Happens at 22 Weeks

It's true. I haven't updated this blog in a while, but I've been so busy with everything related to work, summer vacations, and the growing baby that I haven't allowed myself the time to write. It's not fair, really - it's my therapy, my respite from everything that makes me sleepless. I also feel that even though I keep up with Facebook, it's not an appropriate place for everything that I am feeling.

Like numb, or confused, or tired of all of this. 

On Monday I'll be 22 weeks pregnant. What that means is that in another two weeks, my pregnancy is considered "viable", that is, if the baby were born that day, it would have a chance to live. A very small chance, maybe 1 in 3, but a chance nonetheless. I'm not sure how I'll feel when the 24 week day comes, just that maybe a tiny little part of me will relax, as it has with every other milestone. After the 8 week ultrasound, when I saw it was really there, in the right place, tail and all, just floating and growing, I was relieved, and then worried again. Once I hit 13 weeks and was heading into the second trimester, I felt even better - the chance of miscarriage goes down after that. And at the 20 week ultrasound, when I saw the little profile, all the parts of the baby scrambling inside me to get away from the pressure and noise of that procedure and found out it, 'the thing' in my belly, was a he, I was overjoyed. I saw him. I felt like I knew him, and I just didn't want them pressing on me anymore. He needed to be left alone, so he could rest and grow and keep making me eat key lime pie. And after that I got the test results back, saying he wasn't afflicted with some of the worst chromosome defects that would have ultimately meant I would have hard decisions to make. So far, so good, right?

Yes, everything is fine, everything is rosy. At least, that's how it seems I should feel. People keep asking me if I'm excited and I just don't know what to say to them. I'm tired a lot, much less nauseated but still not feeling a lot of energy, so being excited is difficult for me. And maybe because this week is when my first baby was supposed to be due, I just don't have the kind of feelings other people have. It's less and less that I'm waiting for something to be wrong, and more that I just don't feel like this is actually happening to me. Between the loss of the first one and the anxiety of the second, I'm still detached. It's hard for me to feel the kind of affection that maybe I should be for the little boy growing inside me. I feel like I should already have been pregnant and done with it, and I still have 4 months and change to go. I've had these crazy hormones since last December, and I'll probably keep having them well into next year. I feel like I've been doing this forever, with no results so far. I'm not one to beat a dead horse. I like things over and done with, and this entire process has been a terrible test of my patience.

What do I really want? I want this to be over. I want my body back, working the way it's supposed to. I want the baby here, born and healthy, and I want to start my life anew. Being a parent permanently changes people, and I feel like I just want to get on with it. There are those who say it goes too fast, but I don't think so. It can't go fast enough to make me happy. I can't move on until I actually move on, and that means having my baby right here, in my arms or on my lap or wherever he wants to be. That's all I want, because I'm tried of waiting and not knowing.

I think that's fair.