Shortly after Claire's 4th birthday, we found out we were expecting you. We were SO happy, SO scared, SO overjoyed, SO nervous. Not an hour passed where I didn't pray to God that you would be "OK." I so needed to "heal," to have a typical pregnancy, to have a "normal" birth experience again, to breastfeed you. It HAD to be OK. We knew we had a 75% chance of that.
We had too-many-sonograms-to-count during the first half of the pregnancy, each one more promising than the last. At one point, you even showed us your hand with your thumb OUT, which to us signified you were OK since Claire's thumbs had ALWAYS been tucked tightly in her fists. We watched your movement, checking for ANY spasticity. We studied your forehead, researched normal head circumferences, memorized "the numbers" so when we went for the sonograms we'd know exactly if things were lagging AT ALL before we were even told. At 22 weeks, we saw your head measurements stall... they were still within "normal limits" (just 2 weeks behind). We panicked, prayed, cried, promised years off our own lives if all could be OK with your brain. Microcephaly was confirmed at 26 weeks, and the next 48 hours were some of the most difficult of our lives.