20 weeks

It's funny.  I realized just how skittish I've been in talking much about this pregnancy when I read Sarah Bessey's amazing Post (173 Beats per minute) this morning.  It's not that I don't know why.

I do.

I'm still not completely convinced this will turn out well.

I know.  Probably not the sanest response, considering I have two healthy children.  But let me tell you a little story.

I was five and my younger sister, Evangeline, was exactly two the day we welcomed our baby sister, Hannah, into our family.

Now, those of you who know the Hartley sisters from college or secondary school are probably going, "wait--Hannah?  Who's Hannah?"

Hannah Elyse Hartley was born May 21, 1987. Stillborn. She'd been moving about shortly before that.

We talked about it a lot over the years, but somedays it still hurts--even though I was already a big sister, even though she wasn't my child.

And the way it scares me the most?  I'd vowed never to have a third kid of my own--I was too scared.

And here I was this spring, totally shocked to find myself with an almost 5 year old and a little one who was about 18 months old and surprise! She'd be arriving right about the time my kids were the ages Evangeline and I were when Hannah arrived. I quit my job at the church, partially for the stress of the job itself, but partially also for the stress of thinking about #3.

I've gone all the genetic testing to put my mind at ease.  The funny thing is, even when nothing showed up, I still wasn't completely sure it was happening.

We kept the baby tub, the car seat, the 4-5 carriers I'd accumulated between the 2 boys, some clothes...but other than a cute little lolitop hat and some pictures for the wall, I just can't seem to motivate myself to prepare more.

The boys need to share a room (which could be lovely and wonderful since they love each other and love spending time together, or it could end up in a sleepless disaster ;) ) but we just can't seem to figure out when to make that happen.

I don't have a birthing plan this time at the moment. I often forget what week I'm on and though I try to be careful with medicines and vitamins and intake and rest....I'm just not feeling it. In fact, worse than not feeling it, I guess, is that I've convince myself not to get my hopes up.

I know I look pregnant at this point (that, or I swallowed a basketball), but it's just....

The fear. The fear of the thing I know nearly swallowed my mom whole.  The grief, the anger of a stillbirth--and the family history.

So that's where I'm at.  If you ask me if I'm excited or ready and you get silence in response or a "no," know that I'm not angry--I'm excited at the possibility of having a girl--but it's still not reality yet for me, or not a sure thing in my mind.  Maybe I'll get there soon--or maybe it won't be until I hold her that I know for sure everything's okay.