Part II: We Can’t Wait to Meet You
In 2012 we became pregnant with Chase. We were very cautious, to say the least, but there was a part of us that still wanted to send out a memo to the world. So what if we had another miscarriage? If everyone had already seen our worst, would it really matter if they saw it again? We managed to hold off on telling most people until after 14 weeks. Any longer and I’d have to explain my increased intake of burgers and fries again. I enjoyed being pregnant with Chase. Cravings? Yes. What? Food! I’d gone through (my) the worst, so this was my time to embrace our special gift. All was moving along as it should, until we hit a snag at 28 weeks pregnant. On our way to an early dinner, after a successful trip to Costco, we got into a car accident on the freeway. A confused, elderly driver was attempting to turn around on the freeway, from the shoulder of the road, and hit our car in the process. We spun across the freeway and up an embankment, facing the cars that should have been behind us. This happened right before Thanksgiving, and we all had a lot to be thankful for that year. Our car was totaled, but all drivers and passengers involved were okay. Being 28 weeks along, I declined the ambulance ride which was called to the scene, but one female law enforcement officer suggested that I go home that night, have some juice to wake up the baby and if anything wasn’t feeling right, to go to the emergency room.
Well, Chase was awake alright. I started to feel contractions coming on. Not huge ones, but a tightness that would run across my belly. We headed to the hospital and after being observed for several hours and receiving two shots to stop the contractions, we were back home. I did take a couple more days off of work, to rest, but was grateful that Chase decided to stay where he was for a little while longer.
Five weeks before my due date, my husband and I found ourselves at the hospital again, taking our first night of childbirth classes. This was an interesting audience. A bunch of terrified first-time moms and dads, hanging on every word being fed to us, while trying to keep our arms wrapped around our bellies and the heaping pile of anxiety and excitement that was always in tow. This first class was more about what was going to be covered in the coming weeks and at the end, there was a reminder to bring pillows and blankets to the next class. Meeting adjourned. Little did I know, there wouldn’t be a next class for us. We’d be back to the hospital in two hours, getting ready to meet our son!
Part III: Nice to Meet You Handsome
5 Essentials to Rediscovering Your Joy After Loss
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