I am grateful to be writing the post I am about to write.

More grateful than you can possibly know.

Here is why.

Bubba has a rash. 

Nothing too impressive. 

Here, check it out for yourself.

We went to the doctor's yesterday to have it looked at. It isn't the first time he has had a rash, he tends to be more prone to baby acne, cradle cap, contact rashes etc, so I wanted to talk about what else I might need to eliminate from my diet.

While there, I noticed a tiny red dot. 

Also, not very impressive.

It looked like a pin prick.

I pointed it out to the doctor.

He pressed on it and it did not blanch.

He pressed on the rash on Bubba's belly.

A few of those also did not blanch.

The doctor told me we had to have blood drawn,

a complete blood count and another test I didn't recognize the abbreviations for,

to rule out some things.

One of the things they needed to rule out... Leukemia.

Yes, you read that right. 

Leukemia.

Even typing that vile word makes me want to vomit. 

I saw stars.

Felt the room spin.

"But Peyton's type of cancer doesn't run in families."

The doctor told me he wasn't concerned.
I tried to believe him.

He said to head over to Quest because they are good at getting blood from little babies.

He said if they couldn't get it there, we would have to go to the children's hospital.

THAT children's hospital.

The one where Peyton lived.

The one where Peyton died.

The one I can't even think of driving past without feeling a part of me die.

The doctor gave us a lab slip and told us not to worry.

Yeah... right.

We headed to Quest.

"You have to take him." I told Hubs. "I can't do it." I started to cry.

It wasn't seeing him get a needle I couldn't handle.

I fly solo on the trips to have them vaccinated.

I couldn't be there to see him have THAT test done.

I was a mess.

I felt suddenly weak.

I thought I might drop him if I took him in.

The whole visit took maybe 15 minutes.

When they came out, Bubba had a single tear in his eye.

"He was laughing right up till the point they stuck him." Hubs told me.

I scooped Bubba up into my arms.

I begged him to be okay.

I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

There was no call last night with results.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

This morning I woke worried.

I called at 8.

At 8:30.

At 9:20.

"_____Pediatrics, this is Anne"

"I'm calling for my son's test results."

"His name"

"______ ______"

"Please hold a moment."

That 'moment' took nearly five minutes.

A myriad of thoughts ran through my mind.

Why was it taking so long?

Were they getting a doctor on the line?

I waited anxiously, repeating "He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine." with each second that ticked by.

My knees were shaking.

My hand holding the phone was shaking.

I heard a voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello, is this _____'s mom."

"Yes."
"This is Sherry, the nurse practitioner."

"Hi Sherry." My voice cracked. "Do you have ____'s results?"

"Yes I do. They are all normal."

Heavy sigh of relief. "Oh Thank God."

From there we discussed what else might have caused the red dot and the rash. 

None of which were serious.

There are no words for the relief I am feeling today.

Last night I saw images of another life. 

Of a different outcome.

I could see myself there, because I have been there.

It scared the hell out of me.

It made me want to curl into the fetal position on the floor and die.

Today I feel yet another new lease on life.

My son is healthy.

BOTH of my children are healthy, thank God.

And I am so, so grateful.

I am grateful to be writing the post I am about to write.

More grateful than you can possibly know.

Here is why.

Bubba has a rash. 

Nothing too impressive. 

Here, check it out for yourself.

We went to the doctor's yesterday to have it looked at. It isn't the first time he has had a rash, he tends to be more prone to baby acne, cradle cap, contact rashes etc, so I wanted to talk about what else I might need to eliminate from my diet.

While there, I noticed a tiny red dot. 

Also, not very impressive.

It looked like a pin prick.

I pointed it out to the doctor.

He pressed on it and it did not blanch.

He pressed on the rash on Bubba's belly.

A few of those also did not blanch.

The doctor told me we had to have blood drawn,

a complete blood count and another test I didn't recognize the abbreviations for,

to rule out some things.

One of the things they needed to rule out... Leukemia.

Yes, you read that right. 

Leukemia.

Even typing that vile word makes me want to vomit. 

I saw stars.

Felt the room spin.

"But Peyton's type of cancer doesn't run in families."

The doctor told me he wasn't concerned.
I tried to believe him.

He said to head over to Quest because they are good at getting blood from little babies.

He said if they couldn't get it there, we would have to go to the children's hospital.

THAT children's hospital.

The one where Peyton lived.

The one where Peyton died.

The one I can't even think of driving past without feeling a part of me die.

The doctor gave us a lab slip and told us not to worry.

Yeah... right.

We headed to Quest.

"You have to take him." I told Hubs. "I can't do it." I started to cry.

It wasn't seeing him get a needle I couldn't handle.

I fly solo on the trips to have them vaccinated.

I couldn't be there to see him have THAT test done.

I was a mess.

I felt suddenly weak.

I thought I might drop him if I took him in.

The whole visit took maybe 15 minutes.

When they came out, Bubba had a single tear in his eye.

"He was laughing right up till the point they stuck him." Hubs told me.

I scooped Bubba up into my arms.

I begged him to be okay.

I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

There was no call last night with results.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

This morning I woke worried.

I called at 8.

At 8:30.

At 9:20.

"_____Pediatrics, this is Anne"

"I'm calling for my son's test results."

"His name"

"______ ______"

"Please hold a moment."

That 'moment' took nearly five minutes.

A myriad of thoughts ran through my mind.

Why was it taking so long?

Were they getting a doctor on the line?

I waited anxiously, repeating "He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine." with each second that ticked by.

My knees were shaking.

My hand holding the phone was shaking.

I heard a voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello, is this _____'s mom."

"Yes."
"This is Sherry, the nurse practitioner."

"Hi Sherry." My voice cracked. "Do you have ____'s results?"

"Yes I do. They are all normal."

Heavy sigh of relief. "Oh Thank God."

From there we discussed what else might have caused the red dot and the rash. 

None of which were serious.

There are no words for the relief I am feeling today.

Last night I saw images of another life. 

Of a different outcome.

I could see myself there, because I have been there.

It scared the hell out of me.

It made me want to curl into the fetal position on the floor and die.

Today I feel yet another new lease on life.

My son is healthy.

BOTH of my children are healthy, thank God.

And I am so, so grateful.

I had a nightmare last night.

I dreamt that I came up to a very long bridge over water (think miles long) with my husband. In my dream I referred to it as the Brooklyn Bridge, but it wasn't actually that bridge. Anyway, I wanted to cross the bridge but I was scared. The bridge felt too long, and impossible to conquer. My hubs told me to just do it. He said that he would be running alongside me and he would tell me as I was getting close to the other side. I hemmed and hawed for a while, before finally getting up the guts to give it a go.

I started across the bridge, and he was yelling things like "you're a tenth of the way there, keep going." All of the sudden it became very windy out, and the bridge had no guardrails holding me in from the sea below. Up ahead of me I could see something crossing the bridge and I screamed when I realized it was water. "I'm scared." I cried, "I can't. I don't want to!" But hubs stayed on my heels, pushing me and pushing me and all the while I was terrified.

I told my hubs it wasn't safe, that I had to turn around, and when I went to head back to "safety," I saw that that area I had already crossed was becoming covered with water too. I ran as fast as I could, which wasn't very fast because I was wearing the pink CROCS that I always wear to my doctors appointments (what can I say, they still fit) and they were hindering my speed. The water levels both in front of me, and behind me, were rising. I was panicking. How was I going to get off this bridge?

I passed by someone who had been swept into the sea. I'd like to say that I stopped to help them, but that would be a lie. I wanted to help them, but I was too scared. I was in fight or flight mode. I needed to survive.

The water smelled terrible and I worried about what was in it as it soaked my feet through my CROCS.

When I finally made it off the bridge, I was met with an overpass covered in graffiti. The words that were scrawled on the wall were all scary pregnancy related words, like pre-eclampsia. I bent over to catch my breath and hubs came up beside me.

"You should have kept going," he said, unable to even look at me. "You were practically there."

I felt like a complete failure.

I could give you my own interpretation of what this dream means, but who knows how close I would really be. Despite his role in this dream, my hubs has been nothing but supportive our entire marriage, so please don't get the wrong impression.

I know that when I woke up from it, I instinctively felt between my legs, wondering if my water had broken. Realizing it hadn't, I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to go back to bed, but I couldn't.

The fear had me.

I am scared of giving birth. Not of the actual act of "giving birth," per say, I couldn't really care less about what pain I might endure during a vaginal delivery, and I have already been through a c-section so I sort of know what to expect. No, what I am scared of is actually being able to do it.

Of actually being able to bring living children into this world.

I am scared of giving birth, because I have never done that well.
I have never done it and had a good outcome.

The very worst day of my life, as ashamed as I am to admit this, was the day I gave birth to Peyton. She was taken from my body, then from the room, and by the time I first saw her, doctors were telling me that she would in all likelihood die. To describe the event of Peyton's birth as traumatic, would be an incredible understatement.

What should have been my happiest moment, was one of grief, and panic, and fear instead.

I have spent a great deal of this pregnancy worrying about getting the babies to viability, then to safety, but now, with the carrot of their arrival dangling so closely before my nose, it is hitting me - some way or another, whether vaginally or by c-section, I am going to have to "give birth" to these babies, and I am terrified.

I try over and over to picture a positive birthing experience in my mind.
I try to see them coming into the world, and being declared healthy, and handed over to me.
I try to envision them at my breast, the gratitude I will feel for their safe arrival, and the tears of joy that I know will be streaming down both my face, and that of my hubs.

I try to envision this, but sometimes the fear creeps in instead.

I wish pregnancy didn't have to be this way for any of us loss mommas. I wish that we could be happy and innocent and naive again, because I am looking down the span of this long bridge before me, wanting so badly to feel confident in my ability to get to the other side... wanting to so badly... but not.