It's done! The hospital bag is packed! Whew! It was not an easy task. This bag contained the normal items--toiletries, music, pillow, clothes--but there were a few "what if" items that needed to be included.
I've not said "It's not fair" throughout this pregnancy. It's not fair, but hey, did anyone ever promise us that life is fair? I think, though, that sometime during the packing, my heart whispered This isn't fair a few times.
It's not fair that I have to pack a sports bra in the event Lily doesn't make it or can't nurse, and I have to suppress my milk production.
It's not fair that I've felt the need to pack three different outfits--one for pictures, one for comfort, and one for burial--because I have no idea how this is going to turn out.
It's not fair that the hand mold/picture frame combo that I've packed might represent a moment's memory, frozen.
It's not fair that I'm afraid to put an infant car seat in my car because I don't want to drive home with it empty. (Thankfully, my momma will bring that to the hospital for us.)
It's not fair that I have to dissect every possible decision for putting an item in that bag.
It's just not fair. Or am I thinking that it's just not fair that this happened to me? When I think about the statistics (1/3000), it's still shocking that Lily became the one out of that 3000. I mean, the hospital where I'll be delivering delivers about 3000 babies a year! Statistically speaking, Lily is that one. It's mind-boggling.
I don't want to mislead any of you. I'm not bitter. Actually, I'm feeling rather calm and peaceful these days. I accept what will happen, even though I might not like it. The whole symbolism behind packing the bag just weighed on me. Each item represents something far more than just what it actually is. But that is done, and I'm over it. The bag now sits waiting on the chair that's in our bedroom, reminding us that life is quite the adventure. It could be any day now when Dave reaches for that bag and drives me off to the hospital. That's exciting! It's something that has not differed between this pregnancy and my other three.
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We lost our second daughter, Jenna Grace, to Trisomy 18 at 21 weeks. Big hugs to you. I read your post down below about sharing our stories, and I've done the same thing. I started mine before we ever even knew there was a problem.
ReplyDeleteOh, and the hopes and dreams you've packed too. The hope that Lily will get to wear all of those clothes (over and over). That Lily will not need any assistance after she's born. That she can nurse. That you will change many diapers. That Lily will come home with you. That you will celebrate many milestones (birthdays, rolling over, sitting up, eating solid foods, walking) with Lily.
ReplyDeleteI am so excited for you! It truly is so peaceful -- the meeting of parent and beloved, wanted, longed-for child!
I am praying for you as this day approaches. I think about you ALL the time. I remember feeling like it not fair as well. It is odd but I also felt extremely blessed. I wish we lived closer...
ReplyDeleteJust remember, even if she can't nurse on her own, you can always pump and supplement. I had a friend who's baby delivered at 25 weeks and she pumped and stored and her tiny one took her own breast milk through the feeding tube. I'm keeping my eyes out daily for your posts waiting to come down and visit! Hugs and kisses to everyone Cuz!
ReplyDeleteyou're so right its not fair. we should have to plan for possible tragedy. you're in my thoughts and i'm praying for you.
ReplyDeleteLily Grace is an appropriate name for this angel you're waiting to hold. The grace that you've shown through every step of this journey is unbelievable. God chose the most amazing woman to guide Lily through it all. Jill, it's so hard to imagine what you feel inside your heart every day, but you exemplify Faith through your trials. I hope it's not inappropriate to tell you that you're inspiring in a way. Courageous, I think. Lily will be blessed (and immeasurably loved) for however long God allows her to stay with us, and long beyond that.
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