Friends.

I feel like I've made about 10 new friends since this pregnancy began. They are all doctors or ultrasound technicians. And it's possible I spend more time with them than the friends I've acquired by choice through the years. We've had eight ultrasounds to date. We didn't have a single one until 11 weeks ago. Nonsense! We have seven doctor appointments in the next six weeks, at three different locations, and we'll meet and discuss at least seven people concerning miss Nora. It's completely nuts.

By choice or not, I'm quite glad we've met them all. They are all lovely. They help a lot, each bringing their special gifts to the table and discussion. We've become "friends." Some are techs, case managers, gynecologists, midwives, cardiologists, perinatologists, surgeons, nurses, endocrinologists, geneticists, etc. etc. etc. I'm not really certain that I know all of their roles or why we meet with them all. I'm just trusting they will make it all OK. What else can I possibly do? 

Regardless, we had an appointment yesterday. You can feel our fear rising in the days leading up to appointments such as this one. Times when we meet with the doctors that include ultra sounds we get tense and worried. Quiet. Those are the appointments that have ended in horror for us at times. It's always when they tell us something more than we already know. And usually it hurts to hear.

Not this time though! This time we left knowing almost nothing more than we knew last time. VICTORY! We had almost nothing to talk about after they did their lengthy examination of all of the things. Nora is still rockin' that hygroma, the lung masses, and her little heart- it still is doing it's thing, complete with a potential for coarctation..maybe? Nora continues to play tricks on the cardiologist. We can't wait for them to meet in person so Nora can apologize for her antics in utero. 

But, as I said, we had almost nothing to talk about after the hunt for trouble was through. We discovered there is a potential for a sort of treatment that could work on Nora's lungs after birth, and it wouldn't include surgery! Steroid therapy he called it. 

Now, I want to shout and scream for joy- you mean she might not have to tack on lung surgery as well as heart surgery!? Great! Only, if we're keeping track here they are discussing hormone replacement therapy, growth hormone therapy, drugs at birth for her heart, cords, wires, injections, and STEROIDS? "I'm for no harm, no foul, and there is no harm in seeing if the steroids help before doing surgery," says fancy doctor guy. 

Cool.Agreed. And I don't want to be a Negative Nancy here, BUT, don't they know I'm the resident hippie in my family? I don't do injections. I don't so much as do ibuprofen. I hardly even touch dairy and bread (unless it's cheese- cheese is good!) I'm the "all natural" one here. I like to know what is going in my body and how that makes an impact. I don't do doctors and injections to make things better, I do yoga and running. I don't pop pills, I drink water and take naps. Why must we always take all these "therapies," as they like to call them!? 

I've grown to love my "fix the problem, don't just cover it up" attitude. Never will I say, "my head hurts, I think I'll take ibuprofen." I chug water, take a nap, and relax for a minute. Dare I say I am tired? Well then take a nap, go to bed earlier, and eat a snack. I won't chug caffeine. It works great for me! It doesn't work great for everyone I know- but I dig it. I want Nora to dig it, too!

But these doctors, they keep telling me all the things Nora has to undergo and put in her little body. The mama bear in me asks, "Is that really 'no harm' to inject my newborn baby with steroids?" I mean, I guess, yeah, I can accept it. Certainly sounds better than surgery. And I don't really understand steroids or growth hormones or hormone replacement therapies, so maybe I'm talking nonsense. Bbbuuuuuuuttttttt, I'm a little frustrated with it all the same. 

It goes right back to my original feeling- WHY MUST OUR BABY DO ALL OF THESE THINGS!? Why can't she eat, breathe, sleep, snuggle, deliver and grow like the many babies I've seen before her? It's so annoying that for much of her life we may be injecting her with all sorts of things. She'll see a million doctors. She'll endure far more than Kevin or I have ever endured combined. And it's not even to "fix" a problem. It's to "cover up" a problem. Because she can't have that one extra chromosome, the one we somehow skipped on passing on to her. The one that would ultimately fix the problem. 

Only, I'm not even sure it's a "problem" to be "fixed." 

It's just Nora. And she is unique to her, just like everyone is unique to themselves. She is wonderful. And she is going to be active and fun and cool. She is going to have blue eyes. She is going to learn to ski and swim immediately. 

Someday, I'm sure of it, I'll write about Nora being the biggest blessing we could have ever imagined. I'll talk about how all of my silly worry and all of my words, my fears- all of it was dramatic and nonsense. I'll describe how I should have trusted in God more, and I'll feel embarrassed about being scared and frustrated about something as minimal as shots and steroids and a little surgery here and there.  I'll someday be full of shame about the tears I shed when I learned that my daughter was somehow not "normal." One day I'll think back to these days and wonder how on earth I could be so selfish and so ignorant to the important things in life. I'll be shocked at how silly I was to think that there was such as a thing as "normal" to even compare to. I'll wish I could go back in time and teach myself to quit worrying about it, just trust. Only trust. Only smile. Only laugh. 

Buuuuttttttttttt, I'm human. And that's sorta the problem. So, I'm worried. I'm scared. And I'm sooo tired of all that. I want to go to a doctor appointment and discuss only the pain in my tailbone, the weight I might be gaining too quickly, the acne I can't get rid of. I want to talk about that lovely nursery I'm creating without thinking for even a second if she'll make it here to enjoy the space with us. 

Thing is, I can't. I can't not have those fears. I can't not have those thoughts. So I let them come, I acknowledge them, then I shove them away. I push them far, far away, so as not to let them get in the way of my next great laugh, Nora's next kick or the idea I'll come up with next for how to decorate her room. I need to feel them- it's so important. But once I'm through, I can't allow myself to dwell. That seems dangerous- like it could sure ruin a person's spirit, ruin Nora's arrival, ruin all of the fun of being pregnant! 

I mustn't let that happen! Nora will know only excitement and joy and love when she comes. Or at the very least, she'll learn how to cope with things that are hard, seeing that it's ok to feel, but not let them destroy her. That seems like a good lesson to learn- I better start teaching her right away! 

So, now that I've rid myself of all of my thoughts and fears for the week, I'm on to celebrating the next six weeks! Six weeks left before we get to meet Nora Grace! Hooray!!