I Am NOT A Marathon Runner

We are officially half way to our destination, and I have learned that I could never, ever, ever, ever run a marathon. I'm too much of a wus. When I look at those baby emails that excidetly tell me "Congratulations, only 135 more days to go!" It makes me want to curl in to a ball, suck my thumb, and rock back & forth.

I'm ready to meet our baby. I am done having my spine karate chopped. I am ready to buy teeny tiny diapers. I am done having to plan my day by restroom locations. I am ready to touch baby soft skin. I am done having emotional meltdowns at the grocery store. I am ready to find out if we are adding a boy or a girl to our family. I am done having people tell me "Wow! You look WAY bigger than you ever did with Tristan." Thank you family members. It makes me feel even better when you call your significant other from across the room to stare at my belly and contribute more comments about my size.

I have to remind myself that I need to cherish this precious time with just me and baby. Although it seems like forever now, it won't last for long. I love the kicks, the rolls, and even the gymnastics move's on top of my bladder. And now I love looking at our new pictures of Baby Green.

We had our 20 week ultrasound today. I drank my 16 ounces of water like the radiologist instructed me to, and prayed fervently that I wouldn't accidentally wet myself during it. As she pressed and pushed, prodded and poked, I prayed harder. And harder. "The baby is moving SO much!", she commented. "Look at your baby move all over the place!" Yes, I know. I could feel it. More prayers. Then I started sweating, imagining the outcome to my full bladder situation only ending very humbly. When I couldn't take it any more, I asked in a very calm voice if I could please, for the love of all that is holy, use the restroom. At one point I may have even cried for a second. Wetting yourself in front of your husband, a radiologist, and her trainee is serious (and unforgiving) stuff. I was so blinded by my discomfort and loss of muscle control that I didn't even hear her directions to the bathroom, and instead dropped my pants in a linen closet. Oops. My mistake.

All is well though. I am alive, and I'm never drinking water again. It's too risky. We did manage to get a few pictures though of Baby. And we aren't finding out what we are having. At one point, I was convinced I saw male genitilia, but everyone else insists it was the umbilical cord. Luckily, you can't tell anything from these pictures.

And Then There Were Four...

From two...

To Three...

To Four...

After 8 months of trying, a hopeless diagnosis from the Dr., and lots of prayer, we are beyond blessed as we await the arrival of our miracle baby. This entire experience has taught me that with God, ALL things are possible. When a Dr. tells you it can't happen, God has a different plan.  We went through blood test after blood test, medications that failed, and ultrasounds that the Dr. explained "proved"  that my body was not functioning as it should. Yet our God is a God of miracles...and surprises! During a routine blood draw, one of my results came back as abnormal. I was told it wasn't physically possible for me to get pregnant at the time, so I didn't even consider it as an option. Instead, with my hopeless attitude that had recently developed, I was convinced I had cancer. Thank goodness for Google which kindly explained what it meant if HCG came back as positive. It was a surprise that can only come from God. So as I start my 19th week and bust out of every pair of jeans I own, I have to stop and remember that God gifted us with this second pregnancy. We are blessed, and we can't wait to meet our precious baby.