I got a call yesterday from the monument people. They needed a final measurement of Beckett's hand to make sure the prints are the correct proportion. It was such a weird feeling. Measuring my boys hands. His fingers seem so long for a little baby. I have molds of his hands, they are slightly curled. I stick my finger through them sometimes and imagine him squeezing back. I just stared at his little hand prints...those prints will be etched into his grave marker.

Surprisingly, his stone is completed already (about a month early). We still don't know when it will arrive and be installed but I am guessing sometime this week. I put up this wall sometimes, a very sturdy wall, and I can talk about his grave marker like it is no big deal, but it really is. It is so final. Not that his death was not final, but placing something permanent into the ground. His name etched in stone, in a cold ground...forever...that is final. There is nothing else for us to do anymore. All the obligatory pieces have now been done, the final piece will be put in place shortly. So, that is it. It feels horrible.

At the same time I struggle with the finality of it all, there is this amazing little baby growing inside of me. This baby also occupies almost all my thoughts. I have tried to protect myself as much as I can...to be prepared for the possibility of bad news. That has been pretty difficult to try and do. Nearly impossible. I told myself I would not buy anything, I would not do anything to the room, I would not get my hopes up...I even have thought about what I'd bury this child in if we had to. I have thought about all the things I'd do differently or the same if this child were to die too. I have even gone so far as to picture another grave stone right next to Beckett's. It is morbid. It is icky. I hate it. But these horrible thoughts are right there with the visions of me holding our living baby for the first time, hearing he/she cry. I hate that this is my experience (or anyone else's). We have been robbed of ignorance. I just hope that in the end (assuming there is a happy ending) it will be that much sweeter. Right now I honestly feel as if I am on borrowed time with this baby. Each morning I feel the baby kick me, I am thankful to have some more time with him/her. Yes, i am counting down the days (24), but I am trying to remember and savor these last few weeks of being pregnant because I just don't know!

On another note, I had a NST done on Monday. Baby performed beautifully. The heart rate, which went from 125-150's, is supposedly very positive...funny, I thought that wasn't so good. I only had one slight contraction and the baby did fine through it. That is reassuring because I'd get a little nervous before that with every contraction the life was being squeezed out of our baby.