I usually wake up in the morning with deep anxiety. Worry over this baby. Worry over the direction of my life. Sadness and emptiness as I approximate the age that Baby Mackenzie
should be.
But, I tell myself that this is an emotion and try to carry forward with my day. Most days I am able to drag myself out of bed at 5:50 to go on a 5-6 mile run/walk before I have to get the kids out the door. In quiet moments, I convince myself that the baby is dead and my next ultrasound will contain those five dreaded words, "I can't find a heartbeat." I've seen the baby three times now. Heartrate at 5 weeks was 128, 6 weeks was 121, and 7 weeks was 151.
In other news...Baby Girl likely fractured a bone in her ankle and is currently miserable in her knee height cast. Nugget is really blooming and we've been in a good period where he's been such a good listener and a helpful big brother (with occasionally bits of whiny beyond belief behavior).
I have to go make some chicken nuggets before my class. Life is busier than it should be and it's my own damn fault.
