My thoughts shift between blind optimism and actual acknowledgment of the continuing risk of this pregnancy. I asked Husband last night how he was holding up. He mentioned that he was trying not to get his hopes up, because of what could still go wrong. I think it's too late for me, my hopes are already up, and I think in reality, he's not far behind. We've started referring to the fetus as "she" instead of "it" and have largely abandoned the in utero name we were calling her in favor of her birth name. Probably dangerous considering we still have several weeks to go before we can guarantee a safe delivery, and of course, the risks involved with neonatal surgery. But I feel like I can't keep living in fear of what could go wrong. I agreed to have a baby shower next month, and Husband promised to paint the nursery before Thanksgiving. His father will bring the crib they're giving us that weekend, and after finals are over I can start actually decorating. I want to start looking forward instead of stuck in the fear of each day, of each appointment, of what will go wrong. Easier said than done, and maybe setting myself up for heartbreak, but I'm taking a leap of faith that everything will be okay.
In other thoughts, I was just thinking today how surreal it is that my health, and even my life, could have been at risk. I could have ended up a (rather poorly done) episode of House from last season. If the hydrops hadn't resolved, it could have been bad news for me too. A recurrence of hydrops could put me at risk again. Strange that those realizations didn't truly sink in at the time. But then we often forget that pregnancy itself puts a woman's life at risk, assuming that modern medicine fixes everything. Even without the CCAM, the risk wouldn't have been zero. It's just surreal to think about.