Well I did it. I survived. At this point with Owen, I was no longer pregnant. I was officially starting my life as a deadbaby mom. In fact, I was still holding him in my arms. Its bittersweet.
Everyone had told me that once I got past that day in this pregnancy, I would be able to breathe easier. I know it's early yet, but so far that doesn't seem to be true. In fact, right now, I feel even more anxious. I feel like I'm on borrowed time. I had a disturbing dream last night where I was at the perinatalogist's office and having all sorts of tests and I remember saying, its not happening again, is it? The nurse turned to me and said, you didn't actually think you were going to bring home a baby, did you?
I think that might be the source of this new anxiety. I don't want to admit it, even to myself, but I am starting to think I will bring home a baby. Knowing what I do, that seems like a dangerous and somewhat foolish belief. I just want this baby here. How many days until August?