Remembering To Breathe

Breathing seems like a simple enough thing. But it feels like once I had my ultrasound on Thursday, I started holding my breath. Figuratively though it may be, it's freaking exhausting. Like growing a baby isn't an energy drain enough, now I get to live in a constant state of not-knowing, hoping, praying...waiting.

I can't be like this every day until my due date. I can't spend all of my time waiting for the Universe to throw another shoe at me. Of course at this point, the Universe had better be careful, because I'm likely to start throwing them back. And I'm an angry stressed-out Mama, so my aim is ridiculously good.

I have to find a way to keep moving forward through this with some sense of normalcy.  I want to drop everything and swim around in it, but I just can't.  I'm not giving up anything for Lent, either.  Six years ago, I lost Sarah for Lent.  This year, I think my peace of mind is more than enough.

So, I'm stressed and tired, and tired of being stressed and tired.  I can't hold my breath anymore.  I just can't. But then, I'm not sure I'm going to keep remembering to breathe while waiting for that over which I have absolutely no control.

On a totally practical note, the radiologist is reading the MRI and we should be getting an appointment to meet with the Pediatric Neurosurgeon tomorrow.  Prayers, thoughts, good wishes, and anything else, as always, are accepted with gratitude.