So far, I had been able to continue working. I went in and started preparing for my day, as usual, despite some nagging cramping. A quick restroom break left me again, rushing to the doctor, only to learn we were once again in for a high risk pregnancy. I was deflated. I had been optimistic that the majority of issues surrounding my last pregnancy steemed from the trauma of loosing my mom.
I was put on light duty at work and would soon need another cerclage to avoid preterm labor. We were in the midst of a transition at my job. Overtime was required most every day, and not complying was a serious offense. As the pregnancy progressed, it became more and more difficult to continue the long hours, despite sitting at a desk for the majority of the day.
Though secretly hoping for another girl, my prayers were directed toward our baby being healthy. Each ultrasound became more and more frustrating as the baby would position herself in a way that prevented them from determining the sex.
The cerclage went well, and my doctor eventually restricted me from working any overtime at all. It was obvious it was frowned upon at work. It seemed new documentation was continuously required and I felt more and more pressure because of it. Our lives had always been chaotic. It certainly showed no signs of slowing down just because I was pregnant.
We soon learned we were indeed expecting another little girl. Our toddler was so excited about becoming a big sister! I loved to listen to her talk about all the things she was going to do with her new baby. As my stomach grew, she soon began sticking her dolls under her shirt and telling the teachers at her daycare that she had a baby in her tummy.
Just prior to learning we were pregnant, my oldest daughter wanted to make some extra spending money she knew we couldn't afford to giver her, so she started cleaning the home of a friend and previous coworker of ours. They became very close and I was grateful she had developed such a good relationship with this woman I greatly admired and respected.
She had began taking photos as a hobby and had become an excellent photographer. Knowing how tight our money situation was and loving my daughter the way she did, she offered to take Homecoming photos of her at no charge. They came out amazing! She was able to showcase her love for the FFA as well. We bought her dress on ebay and it was just beautiful on her.
She later proved to be a great support to me in offering advice relating to my pregnancy. She was an experienced nurse and had even assisted before with the procedure I had. Considering how tired and preoccupied I had become, she was an asset to our daughter's life and had been a wonderful influence on her.
As the months passed, I felt more and more sick. I was always tired and weak. Waves of nausea were becoming more and more common. Morning sickness had evolved into all the time sickness and was accompanied by constant aches and pains. I felt so old.
Our house seemed to continue to shrink as baby items started to emerge. I had come to hate my job and felt I could no longer do it efficiently. I couldn't quit because we needed the money. I knew I looked terrible. Nothing fit right and we couldn't afford to just go out and buy new clothes.
Our home was only a matter of feet from my mother's. Every time I walked out my front door I had to face the fact she wasn't there. I was quickly becoming depressed. I truly needed something good to happen. Just something to pick up my spirits. Something to reassure me that everything was going to be okay, despite the way I felt. Hope for our future.
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