Well, today, hasn't been an easy day. I went from finding hope to losing hope to finding it all over again. Now, I have come to accept that this is my fate for possibly the next 12 weeks. And that's okay. Am I promising no more posts about wanting to get out of here and hoping for a change? Of course not. I am human, and I know I am going to have down minutes, down hours, down days. The difference is that now I feel like I can make it through. I know it's what I have do. For myself, for the future of our family, and most importantly, for our unborn son, Cain.
After thinking this morning that I might have a chance of getting out of here in the next week, I felt those hopes severely diminish after speaking with our specialist. Although she is wonderful, she couldn't give me the news I wanted which was to go home to my family, to my husband and our wonderful son. She told me at best, they might consider it at 32 weeks. Four weeks away. That seemed like a lifetime to me, but as she explained our condition, it finally started to sink with me. I have to do this. As she spoke, she explained how the high amniotic fluid alone isn't always an indication that something is wrong. However, given the fact that they haven't been able to get a good view of Cain's stomach since I arrived at the hospital, they are worried that there may be some issue with his ability to swallow and process the fluid through his system. All of the sudden it hit me. This isn't about what I want. It's about what is best for Cain, and more we can figure out before he arrives, the better prepared the doctors and nurses will be to handle it.
I haven't cried as much today, probably because Coop, along with my mom and dad, spent most of the morning and some of the afternoon with me. Just seeing his little face, and hearing him say, "Momma, I love you," can make my world so much brighter. As we rode together, Coop and I, in my oversized, wheelchair (because I now have 30 minute-a-day wheelchair privileges), I was reminded again that this will all be worth it.
And so tonight as I drift off to sleep, I'll pray again for God to hold Cain's life inside of me until he sees fit, and I'll pray even more to accept the things that I cannot change. After all, this is only a season, and it too shall pass. Someday I'll look back on my time here and smile. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And when I can finally hold Cain in my arms, it will be worth the wait.