Life is Good.

Here I sit.

I have been given privileges to walk myself to the bathroom, and to take a shower on my own. Sitting in a chair. Life is good. I keep thinking about what my brother told me Thursday- "At least this happened now and not at 20 weeks" and my sister, "Babies born at this gestation have the same survival rate as babies born at 40 weeks." My sis-in-law sent me this verse that I've already memorized, and have been basically chanting my my head since last night, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:9. 
All of these are comforting. Still I worry.

He's not ready. I'm not ready.  


I think I am fine and I need to go home to my teething baby girl. I think I left laundry in the washer. I think it was a one-time leak and as long as I'm careful, no harm will come. The refrigerator is empty. I think I'm being a drama queen and these people are wasting a room on me. Why did I not clean the house before my water broke. Geez. But my ways and thoughts are not important. There's a proven scientific method here, and it causes babies to live. Strong. Healthy. I'm struggling with trusting in that, and maybe that's why I'm here. To learn to trust a little more. And let a little bit more slip through the cracks. Life is good. 

It's not ideal to spend Christmas in a sterile room with no tree or fire. It's not ideal to be hooked up to monitors and IVs. Nor is it ideal to be sitting in a bed instead of dancing to Christmas music with my bunny and her daddy. It's not ideal to spend a family holiday with strangers in lab coats. It's not ideal, but it's worth it for our little boy. Life is good. 


I'm learning to crochet today. I'm going to see how big of a blanket I can make for our little man before he comes. Lovie or Comforter? We'll see. I'm hoping for somewhere in the middle.

Here we are on our 30 minute wheelchair ride through the hospital. Doctor's orders.

Life is good. 

Until Next Time,
The Guff