Things have gotten easier in regards to handling the iffy findings last week with Wilson’s ultrasound. I spend very little time thinking about it, and find myself reassuring others around me that it’s going to be fine. I met a friend for lunch today who is the wife of one of B’s most awesome coworkers (and that’s saying a lot, because he works with the most amazing group of people I’ve ever met), and she knew about Wilson via her husband.  She seemed rather concerned but I put her at ease, to the point that when we parted ways, she said, “let me know how it goes on Friday, but I think you’re right. It’s going to be fine.”

I must be handling this REALLY well 😉

Saturday morning was a bit rough. My dear friend who photographed Matthew’s birth emailed me about Wilson’s birth, concerned that she may miss it if he comes early. I hadn’t told D yet about the ultrasound because I just didn’t want to worry her – and – I didn’t want to talk about it. It was still too fresh last week. I emailed her back, explaining that there may be a problem and that it could throw a wrench into my birth plan, so let’s discuss birth photography after the appointment with the specialist. As I wrote that email, I started feeling nauseous – just like I did when Dr. H first told me about his concerns. I started to cry and had to type through the tears to finish the email. I spent the rest of the morning worried.

Worried sick.

I finally admitted my worry to B later that night when we were discussing names for Wilson. I told him how writing about the ultrasound made me feel like I was going to throw up at any moment. I told him that I can’t keep having mornings, or days, or even moments like that.

Since then, I have not.

Having Matthew (a very active and newly headstrong toddler) around takes all focus off of everything going on around me. He is a fabulous distraction. He is a HAPPY distraction, and that’s what I need right now. I can’t spend time worrying about Wilson because all that’s going to do is make me sick and worthless – and I’m not being dramatic. As I posted last week, the day after hearing the findings was a totally wasted day. I didn’t even shower. I didn’t take care of myself. I ate like crap. I can’t be worthless right now, and I haven’t been since Saturday morning. I feel better about myself and about Wilson.

This isn’t to say that I don’t think about Wilson and what may be going on – I just don’t get bogged down in it. When I feel him move first thing in the morning, I smile and say hello instead of worry. If he doesn’t move for a bit, I mess with him and make him say hello – and then I laugh. I no longer think, “what’s going on with you, little man?” I just enjoy him.

I have 2 more days until we hopefully find out what’s going on. The way I live my life is to count down how many more full days I have left until something good, or something dreaded, is to occur. This is my optimistic side running my life and thoughts. Once I wake up for the day, I feel like that day is over (because let’s face it, waking up is the hardest part of the day for me!). HA! So – it is now Tuesday, which means that when I woke up today, I only had 2 days left (in my own warped sense of time) until we hopefully learn how Wilson is doing. That’s not a lot of time. Friday will be here before I know it – and I can’t wait. I’m not excited about the appointment, but I’m ready to know what we are (or aren’t, hopefully) facing. I’m ready to move on with a plan.

No matter what is found (or not found) on Friday, there will need to be a plan for Wilson’s birth day. If the mysterious “thing” has disappeared, or is deemed to be of no concern, there will still be an ultrasound the day of his birth to rule out any possible issues. We have decided that already for ourselves. If the mysterious “thing” appears to be something that needs to be dealt with, then I want that plan solidified and put in place. NOW.

Two more days… two more days.