I will be 16 weeks this Sunday-ish. 16 weeks is when we found out Daniel died. I know that doesn’t mean that this baby will die at 16 weeks but you cant help but fear that number. I have been checking babys heartbeat twice a day everyday all of this week. I cant help it. I have been begging God to keep this babys heart beating and to keep me healthy. I am doing everything I can, taking my vitamins, eating healthy, taking my supplements. I am just praying for a miracle.
I cant say everything will be fine because I don’t know that. The odds aren’t in my favor, so by asking God for one more miracle, that is exactly what I mean. Three of my babies have died, two have made it and this one needs a fighting chance.
I want to get to 20 weeks and start feeling this babe moving. Daily. Then maybe I will breathe a little but easier. I will never feel safe though and my guard will never be down. My heart has been broken too many times to let my guard down. I envy the women that have nice healthy pregnancies with not a care or a worry in the world. I wish I had that. I wish I didn’t know the sting of loss. I wish my kids didn’t know that babies died.