Four weeks and counting...

Well, since my due date is November 18, I guess that means I technically have slightly fewer than four weeks. However long I have, now that I'm getting closer to labor, I can't hide from myself anymore. I am terrified, sometimes so much it makes me a little nauseated. Funny how that works, isn't it? Stupid that I'd be scared of something I can't control or prevent.

At odd moments, I remind myself: the chances of it recurring again are very, very low. And if it does, the chances of actually dying are even lower than recurrence. If it happens again, there probably won't have any brain damage, even. The likelihood of the baby being injured is even lower than me being injured, which is certainly something.

Were my husband and I totally selfish to decide to have another kid? Probably - it's hard to tell until after labor. Stupid? Again, hard to tell until after labor. Just knowing that doesn't make it any easier to mentally prepare myself for labor. I remember getting ready to have Ragsy, thinking that I didn't need to worry about complications because they couldn't happen to me. After all, eclampsia is supposed to happen to less than a percent or two of the population. Then I had it and, well, I always manage to prove myself wrong in the most drastic ways. Hopefully I prove my fears unfounded in as drastic a manner as I proved myself wrong when I had Ragsy.

Just like Ragsy was worth every damn minute of that 32-hour labor and two and a half weeks of migraine, this new baby will be worth it. I know that. I saw it blink today on the ultrasound. It has a face now, one that I can see. I can't tell if it has chubby cheeks because it's so scrunched up against my cervix or because it actually has chubby cheeks. Will it have Ragsy's dimples? That sweet little divot in the chin that I love to kiss? What other defining, unique features will it have? I guess I have to keep my eye on the prize, even if that prize is another 32-hours away from onset of labor.