Sitting here at 17 weeks pregnant, I am finally looking pregnant and am even feeling random little taps and rolls that are most likely this little one making his/her presence known.
Yet I don't feel pregnant...at all.
We use the doppler from time to time and I hear this amazing little heartbeat and even refer adoringly to this little one as "he."
Yet I find myself strangely detached and disconnected from the little life growing within.
After quite the wild ride during the first trimester, things have really settled down and well, I'm guessing this is what being a normal pregnant woman feels like physically.
Yet I am certainly NOT a normal pregnant woman and feel more like this ticking time bomb with a countdown clock hidden somewhere deep inside...wondering if it reads 7 weeks or 17 weeks remaining.
And the most difficult thing to cope with of all...is being so hopeful and optimistic...that things are really going to turn out okay...maybe even far better than I could ever imagine.
Yet I find myself captured by moments of fear. Though fleeting, they do come and swallow me whole. But thankfully, I am able to pull myself together rather quickly.
And maybe that is why things are so different this time. I fear...but only momentarily. There is a peace to everything somehow--knowing that nothing will change the story that has been woven for the Littlest Lewis. We made it through the unimaginable and there has to be something in that...there has to be. But in the end, what will be...
...will simply be.
Still, there is a hope and daily prayers that what it is that will be...is a sweet, little, healthy baby landing safely in our arms.*
*But not until at LEAST 32 weeks...okay???
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