What do you Say?

I could not sleep Saturday night after glancing at the alarm clock every ten minutes for an hour, I finally gave up at 3:32am. Adalynne's most active time during the day is early in the morning. She was especially active today. Maybe it was the pound of ginormous grapes I ate before bed. With each movement, I would whisper, " Hi there, little momma." We were all there. On the weekends, the boys are allowed to sleep in our room. We usually fall asleep watching whatever is on the Disney Channel. Ryan is sleeping, Harrison is too, but on this big white chair in our room [he does not look comfortable], and Houston is snuggled up against me softly snoring. I kiss Houston's cheek, putting a pillow in my place and slipped out of bed. As I walked by Harrison on the chair, I kissed his temple, whispering, "I love you."

The events that occured the night before kept playing in my head over and over. "What do you say?" I would ask myself after the events finished playing each time. So, I went outside to walk Chloe. The night was perfect. The sky was still dark. The air was just crisp enough to where I could see my breath in the air. The stars were so bright. The new light bulbs that save energy look like stars, the bright bluish tint. It was the perfect condition to clear my mind. I would breathe in the crisp air through my nose, blowing it out of my mouth. With each breath, I started to let go of the events that had been occuring over and over.

There is this Mexican restaurant we went to weekly growing up. My brother was in town for the weekend for the Titans game, and his number one request was that we go to the old familiar restaurant. So, there we were ordering drinks and cheese dip, dip that is so good Harrison and Houston get their own bowl and practically drink it. Truth be told, if no one was looking, I would drink it through a straw, gross I know. What is even sadder, is that I would do it even if I weren't pregnant.

There was this woman behind us who dominated our entire dinner conversation. She kept prodding about the baby. Asking the boys questions about what they were going to do with a little sister. When the boys said, "they didn't know," I rubbed the top of Harrison's head, telling him, "we will love her kiss her and hold her." I do not mind when people ask me when the baby is due. It does not make me upset or sad. I am very genuine with my answers, and happy that people want to know about our precious Adalynne. "She is due in February." "Yes, it is a girl," and those are the two answers I give, gleaming with joy. But, no one is abrasive. There are usually only two questions asked. When is your baby due? Do you know what you are having? I wanted to make an excuse and get out of the situation that was about to make me burst into tears. "Oh, the boys are getting restless. You all finish your dinner. Take your time. We are going to watch 'Finding Nemo' in the car," I wanted to tell my family. But, I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, so I just sat there and silently cried. And just as the lady's questions seemed to roll off her tongue, she was gone, leaving me there with thoughts of how our young family is going to cope with such a loss. The boys have no idea what is to come. How are they going to handle it? I know it will affect them, but how much. The boys leave their toys on the floor. Almost every toy they have is for ages three and up. Before we found out Adalynne was sick, I would always say, "boys pick up your toys, the baby will choke on them. Babies don't know not to put small things in their mouths." I wonder if they have noticed I don't say that anymore, or I never talk about Adalynne in the future tense, or I never say anymore, "when the baby gets here..."

I do not sleep well. I wake up in the middle of the night to make sure Adalynne is still moving. What if she passes away before we get to meet her? I want her to feel my kiss on the nape of her neck. I want her to feel my touch on her soft newborn baby skin. I want her to feel her daddy's whiskers. Her movements are like a drug to me, and when I feel her wiggle, it is like a fix. Some nights I wake up to the strangest dreams. I am running trying to find this newborn's mother. She is gone, no where to be seen. The nurses and the doctors are trying to find his mother, but to no avail. Secretly, I would smile to myself because that means we get to keep him. But, I always wake up before I get to hold him.

When Ryan and I were getting a second opinion, in regards to Adalynne's condition, I felt like the entire medical team, involved in the second opinion, strongly agreed termination would be best for Adalynne. I thought it was strange that even the well respected doctor asked, "What are you going to say and how are you going to handle the grocery store outings when someone asks you about your baby?" Was he justifying that as a feasible reason to end some one's life? Did he think I was going to just speed up the inevitable, because a stranger's harmless question? Had that questionable scenario determined a quicker means to an end with mothers before me? But, what do you say?

I do not mind, and it does not bother me when people ask me when the baby is due. It does not make me sad. I am very genuine in my answers. Like I have said before, I love this little girl so much. She is my daughter and I am so proud to be her mom, and no question or condition will ever change that.