24 weeks, 4 days

I'm struggling with 2 very conflicting perspectives.  Well, I'm struggling with a lot today - it's like I've had the nightmare all over again, and I've woken up again to find that it's really happening.  It's been a really hard day.  Not as hard as it could have been - Jason stayed home with me.  Having him with me helps.  A lot.

The 2 perspectives I've been struggling with have to do with the way I view this pregnancy.

Perspective #1:

I've been thinking a lot about the crappiness of pregnancy.  Pregnancy is really hard.  I've tried (and probably not succeeded) to keep my pregnancy complaints to a minimum through past pregnancies - because I remember when I would have given anything to be pregnant.  I remember the longing, and I remember how hurtful and insensitive it felt when others complained about pregnancy.  I thought they should be grateful for the ability to carry a baby and remember that there are so many who have never been able to conceive and would take the crappiness of pregnancy over infertility any day.

But in all honesty, pregnancy is really hard.  Back aches, trouble sleeping, having to run to the bathroom all the time, heartburn (oh, the heartburn), back aches, nauseau, foot aches, leg cramps, the general feeling that someone else has taken over your body, more back aches, the possibility of having a meltdown and crying and any given moment, and several other things I won't share because it's just TMI.  It sucks.  But the great thing about pregnancy is that all of the crappiness is worth it. When I was pregnanct with Levi and my ankles were swollen to the size of small balloons, I could say it as worth it - because in the end, I'd have a baby in my arms.  When I was 9 months pregnant with Seth in the middle of the hottest August EVER, I could say it was worth it - because in the end, I'd have a baby.

What do I say this time?

There is an immeasurable amount of guilt in what I'm about to write.  How can I say 'it's worth it' this time?  How can I say that the really, truly difficult parts of pregnancy are 'worth it'?  Yes, I will have a baby to hold at the end of all of this.  But my baby isn't going to live.  I think it hit Jason pretty hard yesterday - his words made reality sink in even more - 'I'm going to have to watch her die.' 

This feels cruel.  And enduring the rest of the crappy (I'd really like to use a much stronger word there, by the way) parts of pregnancy feels even more cruel right now.

Perspective #2:

I've also been thinking about the 'joys' of pregnancy.  Pregnancy is like a giant excuse to get just about anything you want.  Or get out of just about anything.  Extra foot rubs for my aching feet.  A free pass to eat whatever sounds good.  New clothes to make your baby belly look cute.  Limited housework because vacuuming and mopping make your back hurt.  You can even let your tongue fly and have a hormonal excuse for that.  And if you have a dad like mine, he'll prepare, or go to the store and get, whatever your taste buds desire.  At any given moment.

I think what I'm struggling with is feeling like (and afraid other people sort of subconsciously think that) I'm not actually pregnant since I'm carrying a dying baby.  I feel like I don't deserve to indulge my appetite.  Or get a free pass from housecleaning.  Or ask Jason to rub my feet.  Rather than carrying and delivering a baby, our baby, who will bring us much joy and laughter, I'm carrying and delivering a baby who, unless a miracle happens, will die.  And whose death will bring tears and sorrow.  How can I ask my husband, the father of this child, to rub my aching-because-of-pregnancy feet?  He does rub my feet.  My husband has done nothing but love me well through this.

One of my brothers-in-law was the first person to treat me like a normal pregnant lady since we found out about Elliana's condition.  He arrived at the beach house during the Odell family vacation, came over to me and said, 'OK, Shannon.  We've got to talk about this weight you keep putting on.'  It made me feel normal.  It made me laugh.  And then it made me cry (rolling my eyes, crying AGAIN).  He made several comments like that.  Thanks, Joel.  :-)

I think I knew that our choice to continue this pregnancy meant sacrifice.  But I think I'm so overwhelmed by all of the actual sacrificing (or maybe it's just grief and self-pity?) that I can't see where this sacrifice is leading.  If sacrificing meant life for Elliana, it would be easier, I think.  Maybe I'm afraid that everything I'm enduring is in vain.  I know it's not.  I just can't see how it's not.