Now my view most days is from home.
I’ve been bunkered down since March 15th in a self-quarantine to keep my family, my husband, two children, and unborn child safe.
My view is less blurred from the busy of the day—always rushing here and there.
Instead, now my view is getting focused on things I may have missed seeing.
My mind wanders as I look out the windows of our home.
One moment overcome by thankfulness and contentment.
The next moment overwhelmed by fear of the unknown.
Both sewing together with a heart just praying for our little world and the greater world out there.
The baby I am carrying is a blessing.
This baby will also likely be my last pregnancy.
To be pregnant at this time comes with so many unknowns and has been the root of most of my fear and worry.
Yesterday, I had to venture out alone to see the specialist at Antenatal Testing—the brave nurses, doctors, receptionists, and hospital staff who are caring for others every day.
I see them because like my two previous pregnancies my autoimmune issues can cause complications and concerns for the baby.
We are both monitored weekly by them, checking the strength of the baby’s heart and growth. These people have found ways to bring light to these appointments to cast aside the worry and concern and fear and make them hope-filled and enjoyable glimpses at our little growing baby. I saw them weary yesterday, concerned for their health and their loved ones yet proud of the service and work they do to protect expecting mothers and their babies.
Because of my health issues and potential complications, I feared my first pregnancy. I did not allow myself to feel the joy of expecting as I was convinced it would be taken from me. My firstborn was not taken from me and we have had four years now of joy and challenges of parenting.
My second pregnancy, I felt the same fear coupled with the worry and concern that every mother feels of am I enough to love and protect this child to be much as the one who first made me a mom. My heart grew instantly—and continues to grow and melt every time I see their sibling bond expand. For two years now I have given thanks for the blessing of being a mom of two.
This pregnancy, my third, I wanted to embrace every moment from the start knowing this will likely be my last. I wanted to push aside the clouding fears of my autoimmune issues, of concern that my heart could not love this new baby as much as my first and second because I had been shown this to be true before. Now I am facing the fear of a new unknown—one that is completely out of my control—this global pandemic, this disease, this new world we are living in.
The stay at home orders, canceled school years, social plans, gatherings, closed stores, fear of finances—life as we know it has come to a halt. Privately, I have been overcome by this fear; heart racing, tears streaming down my face, brave conversations to family and friends about not going out, not seeing them, not risking exposure.
But yesterday to serve and protect my baby I had to step out.
I had to step out and go alone.
I stood for a moment in the sunshine and 78-degree weather and I put my face up toward the sun and held my growing baby bump and I felt filled with joy again.
I don’t want to miss this—my last time—because I let myself fall into the dread and fear of this new unknown.
I am fighting to find comfort in knowing that I am not alone in facing it. I have not only my husband, family, and friends, but the whole world facing the same fear.
From what I have learned in the past, this feeling of fear is always greater than the very source of the fear. The fear always loses out to great joy when it is faced.
I want to face this new fear with caution, but I am going to refuse to let it take the joy and memory-making moments of carrying anticipating and loving this child-to-be.
I am excited to meet you, my little one and take on the charge of loving and protecting you always.