Another letter to T2

Here we are again. The night before the doctor’s appointment. In addition to my traditional request that you remain alive inside my womb, (I’m getting greedy now) I formally request that you do something really cute for the black-and-white-sound-wave camera thing. Maybe some sort of signal that everything is going fine in there? A thumbs up? Do you have thumbs yet? Maybe the ol’ forming stump up?

‘Cause I had a very specific dream last night that when the doctor went in there, she couldn’t find a heartbeat. Then the bleeding started, and they sent me home, and I felt all of it all over again. It was real. Some might say, “fucked up.” I woke up with the breathing and the knots and I am having a hard time shaking that image and those sounds from my head. I’m not trying to be overly dramatic or to continue this trend of feeling sorry for myself.

I have trust and hope and all those other words that they paint on rocks, but I am smart enough to know that this does not always guarantee that there won’t be bad feelings involved. I am chill, baby. I am chill. I am chill. I am chill.

But your flash-in-the-pan sibling still haunts me. I still wonder about that person. I think, in the way that crazy women think, that that person was a girl. And it’s even weirder to think about how YOU wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that person NOT being here. I think that you are a boy. I could be wrong. 50-50 shot, right?

Anyway, it’s all heady enough to keep me occupied on the treadmill.

Let’s have fun tomorrow, shall we? I hope it turns out to be picture day. God Save Them All if they do not give us an ultrasound.

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  • Mae

    I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’ve been thinking the same thing. I think you’ve got a Mr. Tot in there. :)