Yesterday. Yesterday.
We had another ultrasound and our situation is basically the same. You are still measuring a week small (which is normal), and your heart is beating strong like a little drum. We still couldn't tell if you are a boy or girl. Your little bum is far too low in my pelvis to get a good image at this point. We are technically now 22 weeks, so we will not see the doctor again until we are 24 weeks. The doc told me to pack my bags and to prepare for either a c-section (to be decided by the doc and the neonatalogist) OR a long term hospital stay so you could be monitored and delivered according to when the docs felt it best. We have to make sure your little lungs develop so that you can breathe. I don't think I have ever truly appreciated the function of the lungs more so than at this point in my life. I worry about you, love. I want you to be able to breathe. To run and play and jump like a kid should. I find myself weepy and worried all day long.
I know in the end everything will work out as it should. We have much to be grateful for. It's just this in between stuff that kills me.
I love you. D loves you. We love you like crazy. More than anything. Still hoping for a miracle.
