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the viability watermark

We've hit that point in the pregnancy where "viability" starts getting thrown around.  This is the "micropreemie" stage, a stage that 10 years ago babies almost certainly never survived at.  Chances are much better now.  It's also the stage where a pregnancy loss is no longer a miscarriage -- it's a stillbirth.

Jargon.  Vernacular.  You learn a lot of new words when you're pregnant, assuming you're paying attention.  The medical industry is simultaneously enthralled and bored by you.  At least one doctor's visit a month, plus labs, plus your dentist really wants you to come in during 2nd trimester "just to make sure", plus birthing classes, plus plus plus.

Meanwhile, the child inside you grows, kicks, turns, and occasionally stomps on something vital.  Usually your bladder.  Usually at the tail end of an hour and a half-long meeting.  Though sometimes it's your cervix, and then it's like someone's knocking on your pelvic floor.  Someone who you know damn well isn't ready to come out just yet.

So far, things are things and things are good.  I am not so much attached to this one as I was the first, probably because of all the lead-up of heartbreak, and the Elder One who is becoming increasingly ambulatory and expressive.  She demands my attention a lot.  And I know that this distance is a temporary state.  Every now and then I think about labor, birth, and holding him, and I get a fluttering premonition of that sense of falling I felt the first time I held Zo.  That breaking of the dam, and the tidal wave of love that nearly stopped my heart.

We still have 100+ days to go, which means we're nearly 2/3rds of the way to meeting him.  2/3rds of the way to first breaths, first poops, so many first firsts in the world that he'll occupy for hopefully a long time.  It's all plus plus plus from there.

Congratulations, kid.  You made it where three others did not.  You are the winner, you and your sister, the ones who fought, the ones who lived.  I will love you both forever, no matter what happens to me after my last breath and my last everything else.  But forgive me if I am not able to be a swooning mother-to-be while you're still felt but not seen.  There's a part of me that's a little broken.  It won't believe it's real until it's real.

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