A Reason to Hope: Car Accidents and Gender Reveal Parties

 
Last week I did something stupid.  It probably lists on the top ten most asinine things that Dorothy Inman has ever done. I kid you not. Wait for it...I ran into a light pole. It was dark, rainy, I was horridly (like your entire face feels like elephants are dancing on it, can't sleep at night) sick, tired and had pregnancy brain. I wasn't even going ten miles an hour and the small hole that was in the bumper was, when you are thinking of things that could happen in an accident, one of the smallest problems you would ever worry about when you thought, "Oh my gosh, what if I got in an accident". My daughter was in the car with me and we both started crying. Not because we were hurt, but because we were scared. Mostly because even at less than 10 miles an hour apparently if you hit a light pole, your air bag will deploy. If you have never had that happen before, trust me, it is freakin' scary. It's even more scary when you are 21 weeks pregnant and you lost your last child at 18 weeks (which wasn't from a car accident, but could you blame me for being nervous?). I won't go into the details of the long evening ahead or the worries that kept me up that night. Or the stressfulness of the following day because we were told we had to go the emergency room to make sure the baby was okay instead of being able to go to the doctor's office. Because the baby was fine. By 11:00 the night of the accident, they started moving and wouldn't stop. The next morning at the hospital, the heartbeat was shown to be healthy and the nurse said they were extremely active. It was a great comfort to this mama.
 
In fact, I have been able to feel this child moving from 16 weeks on. This is a bond that I never felt with my first child, Alexandria, and that I never had the opportunity to feel with my second child, Ezraela. However, this child keeps reminding me, "Mama, I'm here." "Mama, I love you." "Mama I'm okay."

When the kicking and moving started, I thought there was no way that could be the baby.  To be honest, I was pretty sure it was gas (hey, we all have it), however at our 19 week ultrasound the tech confirmed what I was feeling wasn't too much Taco Bell. The days leading up to the appointment were full of self afflicted anxiety and worry. I had no reason to believe anything was wrong with this baby, however I still let doubt and my imagination run wild. I knew based on my previous pregnancy, it was expected, but I still hated those unsure feelings. The feeling of not wanting to let myself get too excited, just in case... And I wasn't even sure I was going to be able to have my appointment because we got a massive amount of snow the day before, which closed down the entire city of Louisville for a day. My sleepless night was wasted though, because my appointment was on. During the drive to the midwife's office I could feel the sadness and worry creep in. It was at my 18 week appointment with Ezraela that I discovered she didn't have a heartbeat. What would I do if I discovered at my 19 week appointment that this baby was dead too? Even though I still had nausea, which is a sign of a growing baby, and exhaustion, I let my mind get the better of me. In fact, that morning, just as we were pulling off the exit from the highway I heard the exact same song on the radio that I heard before I found out Ezraela was dead. It was as if the lyrics were haunting me.

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine


I've never been a superstitious person, but I wondered then if God was trying to prepare me for something. Before I lost it and began to start sobbing, I felt a nudge to listen again.

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now


I made a decision in my mind that instead of being an omen of bad tidings, that this was a promise. And that this visit would go exactly as it should. Praying all the while, I only hoped I was right.

From the time they called my name for the ultrasound to the time the tech started showing me where the heart was beating healthily, I'm pretty sure I held my breath. Although, I didn't need to see the heart beating to know I was carrying a living child in my belly because as soon as the tech started the ultrasound, the baby started moving like a mad person. And then the report: measuring exactly on schedule (my greatest fear was that they would be too small), really strong heartbeat and here are their arms and legs, belly, head, spine and such. A healthy baby.

And I breathed.

This was reason to celebrate.

22 1/2 Week Bump
Which is why we didn't find out that day what the sex of the baby was. We decided to wait and find out with our closest friends whether we would be welcoming a baby girl or boy into the world. I had decided shortly after we discovered we were pregnant that I was going to have a big party for this child.  We all deserved that.
My Village
On April 22, one of my friends let us use her house to hold the festivities. I was surrounded by (almost) every person who had journeyed with me through the dark valley of the previous year. They had shared my tears, held me up in their prayers, been my confidant and counselor. So, when I opened the present to discover a sweet baby outfit in the traditional pink or blue color, I knew everything was going to be okay.

That is until the night of the accident, when all of those previous worries began to creep back in.

But since then, my baby boy has been reassuring me that he is here.  And he is healthy and he is strong. When I lie down with my daughter and watch her sweet face drift off to sleep and feel his little feet kicking and body moving, I feel at peace. When Alexandria smothers my stomach with kisses and yells "bay-bay" in a silly voice, I cannot help but get excited to see her become a big sister (she's already told me she is going to feed him and put him to bed. I'm going to hold her to that). When she proudly tells random strangers that she is going to have a baby brother. When I sing loudly around the house and he moves, almost as if he is applauding, I cannot wait to hold him in my arms and kiss his little face.

Because I am his and he is mine.

And that's all the hope I need. 
 
Our Best Guess

It's a BOY!!

No, Really, It's a Boy!

Happy Dada

The Mustaches Have It

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Will Trust in You: A Story of Postpartum Depression and Anxiety

I Can't Keep Silent: Fighting Against a Rape Culture

Who Doesn't Love a Pancake?