Blessings, Quiet, and Noise

Our house was quiet last night. My mom kept the girls overnight, and Brian and I crawled in bed fairly early. There was no sound machine fuzz transmitting over the baby monitor from Kate’s room, no TV voices droning, no hum of the dryer running. Brian didn’t snore. I’m used to quiet, but this quiet was different, strange, and somehow much needed—perhaps because I could sense Brian soaking it up. It was one of a rare few moments lately in which we have had the luxury of sharing stillness.

The easiness of evening followed us into the morning, calming my nervousness about my appointment and sonogram today. I had caught myself fretting over tiny things through the past week and had to continually remind myself to remain prayerful and praise-filled instead of idle and worry-filled. I obsessed about the little squirt’s movements, Braxton-Hicks contractions, and the night Kate stealthily materialized out of nowhere and whacked me in the stomach with a golf ball, making me sore and tight for a while. (Seriously, Kate? Who does that?) Kate-Kate did not, obviously, golf-ball me into premature labor, and as always, God remained patient with me, His word and spirit reminding me of His steadfast love and faithfulness.

From my spot on the table in the dim sonogram room, a giant wave of relief washed over me when the technician mentioned, “And I don’t see any signs of that hemorrhage anymore.” The rest of the sonogram yielded unremarkable findings, and I was so, so thankful for the ordinary. I watched our baby bubba shift and squirm. He had his foot resting on his forehead part of the time, blocking the facial profile shot the tech was hoping to capture. He wrapped his fingers around his ankle. He made it abundantly clear that he is male. He cautiously opened an eye half way. He seemed so big, so whole. (And freakishly flexible…)

The follow-up appointment gently reminded me that he is still a tiny little dude--far from the big baby I perceived emotionally while watching him on the sonogram. Best estimates place him around 2 pounds, 1 ounce. He continues to be on the small side of average (in the 25^th percentile), but he hasn’t lost ground and is growing at an appropriate, healthy rate. As for the hemorrhage, the nurse practitioner told me that one of three things could have happened: 1) The blood all drained out. 2) My body absorbed residual bleeding, clots, etc. 3) The hemorrhage may still exist but is small enough or at least hiding well enough to have been undetected by the sonogram.

All three options are good news and point to a rosier prognosis for both baby and me. I was encouraged to continue to stay off my feet as much as possible and to listen to my body. I shouldn’t need to follow up with the high risk specialist again unless future problems arise. And we’ve hit the third trimester, which is a huge victory in and of itself!

Brian and I went to breakfast to celebrate, and I ate a ham and cheese omelette that made me want to slip into a food coma. It was a wonderful way to end the morning.

Tonight, my heart is still full of praise and thanksgiving. The noise here at the house has returned along with two little girls home from grandma’s, but I’m ready for the noise again. It's hard not to be ready, especially when that noise includes the gushings of a preschooler racing in to hug her mama, “Mom, did you know I just love you? All the time, I love you most.”

So blessed. So incredibly blessed.