I'm about to have a bit of a tantrum. Read this first part at your own risk of sanity.
This is not how I imagined things back in December when I saw that faint 2nd line. I didn't imagine we'd have to ask for prayers that our baby would live. I didn't imagine we'd go through hospital after hospital trying to find doctors who offered hope and honesty. I didn't imagine our son would have a disease where his bones are fragile. I didn't imagine my son's thigh bone would be in the shape of an M when it should be straight.
I didn't imagine any of this. And it's not freaking fair.
I imagined cuddling, cooing, and giggling. I imagined throwing him in the air and watching Dave run around playing basketball with him and taking him to his first Eagles game. I imagined taking him to Disney World, meeting Mickey, and riding Big Thunder by my or Dave's side while the other took a picture of the ride with Isaiah's hands in the air, giant smile on his face.
I had to change my visions starting back on April 2. Since then I've imagined him in a wheelchair. I've imagined him defying the odds that he'll be in a wheelchair and walking. I've imagined surgeries. I've still imagined Eagles games and Disney, but experiencing them in new ways. I've imagined he and Dave building Lego towns and playing Mr. Potato Head. I've imagined kissing him goodnight and thanking God for letting us have him.
At my lowest point (24 weeks), I imagined him in a casket.
At 32 weeks, that image vanished. Thank God.
In 20 days, these visions I've had will mean nothing, because we'll get to meet him. We'll get to hold his hand and look into his eyes. We'll get to squeeze those chubby cheeks and kiss that button nose.
In 20 days. August 12, 2013.
As excited as we are to know when he'll be breathing and living outside of me, there's still a chance the structure of his ribs will make it difficult for him to sustain life. He hasn't had the growth in the last 4 weeks that the doctors were anticipating. He's now back down below the 10th percentile in growth. He did double his weight (he's now 4 lbs, 2 oz), but that's probably from all the ice cream I've been eating.....
I tend to make jokes at inappropriate times. Sorry.
The doctors are still optimistic that Isaiah's condition isn't lethal but they describe his situation as "worrisome". There's no way to know how his rib cage will handle his need to take deep breaths.
For now, Dave and I are making a plan with the head nurse of the NICU at Jefferson. For now, we wait, we pray, and ask for more prayers.
Please pray for Isaiah. Please pray that he'll grow over these next 20 days. Please pray that his body will let him breath and live. I know God has been listening. He has, because it's not looking lethal. It's worrisome, but not lethal.
We believe in Isaiah and we believe in the power of your prayer.
Please spread the word and have your friends, your family, your churches, your everybody pray for him, for us.
I'm sorry this post wasn't more positive. It's a down day for me; I'm scared and I'm being extremely open today.