A little update and maybe a plan?

   So, here I am at last, after a furiously busy start to our week, after our relaxing time at the cottage, it was smack dab back to reality early Monday morning.  Our first appointment was for an ultrasound - the results of which you can see on the picture above - Ava is now about 3 pounds, 4 oz and growing well - good amounts of amniotic fluid around her and is very active as Timothy can testify to when I lay back at night and we share a few moments together with our unborn little one.  Strangely enough, whenever I try to get anyone else to feel her, she plays shy and decides to stop her movements so my sister and sister-in-law have yet to feel her moving!  The picture is a little vague but shows her looking at us face on, with bits of the umbilical cord above her in two places and a little black area in the lower left where her little heart is beating away.  So precious to see our little miracle girl.  Always such a relief to know that she's doing well as far as everyone can tell despite the onslaught of drugs we keep putting in every two weeks.  We met also with the obstetrician and our nurse practitioner and came up with a letter of questions to share with the oncologist whom we would see later in the day regarding developing a plan for delivery.
   So far, as per the obstetrician, it looks like we would probably deliver Ava (not sure if by c-section - I sure hope not or by induction) in the week of Thanksgiving in October.  Appropriate week, I think eh?  But that's all based on her position changing - she's currently laying straight across me with her head under my left side - she's got about three weeks to change position to get head-down.  So we'll pray that she does that soon.  We also have to think about when to stop the blood thinners and whether my body is actually ready to give birth - seeing as Martha was way overdue, I have to confess to some skepticism that my body will know any better what to do this time!  We already know that breast feeding is off the plans since chemo will continue post delivery and we'll most likely need help with her care at home meaning it's just easier to get her used to bottles earlier than later.  It's funny when something that was such a struggle in the past (breast feeding Martha) and it was initially a relief to hear that it was off-limits, has turned into a little bit of jealousy and sadness that it will not be possible this time.  We are still going to do skin-to-skin and such but it will sure be different this time.   So about six weeks to go which is amazing, considering we were at one point deliriously happy to be making 23 weeks, now the idea that we could be at early full term is an exciting thought.  That said, we also met with the neonatologist team (making it a very full morning of appointments) and she reviewed the terms of the NICU and what would qualify Ava for that area - we truly hope she will feed well and be of a good enough size that she won't have to spend time there but we will see what happens.  We hope and pray that she will continue to grow and develop at the rate she is currently (she's in the 40th percentile at present, so pretty good in my humble opinion!).  We pray for her ongoing safety and growth and for a healthy uncomplicated delivery.  6 weeks til we have a newborn on our hands, six weeks til the dichotomy of chemo treatments and a newborn is reality - I have really absolutely no idea how that is going to look but we are trying to put tentative plans in place to have some supports at home for feeding/care during appointments and such.  I'm pretty nervous to be honest, I'm pretty sure I forget everything from when Martha was born and that's scary.  So prayers for peace and calm and a smooth transition are also coveted.
    The late morning/early afternoon, after a long wait, brought also an appointment with our oncologist.  He proposed one more cycle of chemo after this cycle #5 bringing our total to 6 and then having a break until Ava is born.  It makes me slightly nervous - I don't want this cancer to be given any opportunities to grow at all - and it also brings us closer to the inevitable CT scan to truly assess where the cancer might be lurking and that is probably one of my biggest fears.  I know that we are supposed to trust and we truly hope the chemo is doing its job but in the back of my mind, I always hear the statistics and remember the numbers on the only current study we have involving our type of cases and I'm always worried.  There is also an ultrasound planned of the liver in the week following chemo #6 which is also nerve-wracking - will it show any shrinkage?  What will the plans be?  Will there be a liver resection in the near future?  More chemo?  More side effects?  I feel relatively okay on the current chemo regimen - sometimes I wonder that I shouldn't be more sick and if I'm not, is it really working?  Oh, the multitude of complicated thoughts that run through my head - leaving me awake at night wondering and very emotionally labile.  I cry at the slightest things and it is really frustrating to me to be so up and down.  I pray for peace and calm, for acceptance but it is so hard to accept these realities - this horrible disparate feeling of joy at new life and fears for my own life.  Fears for my family, for our future, will I be able to see our girls grow up and spend time with my dear husband?  I weep as I write these words because it means concretely putting something on virtual paper and sharing it and I hate being so restricted to thinking day to day - instead of being able to look forward to a bright future.  Oh I know as Christians, we look forward to our eternal home but oh, this temporal earthly home has such a pull on me and I long to stay here - I feel like the apostle Paul who talked about his struggle between wanting to be in heaven with Jesus and his need to be here on this earth.  Where am I to be?  What am I to long for?  Why this searing pain that enters my heart at times and threatens to choke me up with thorns of despair and sorrow?  Praying for peace and calm is my daily plea...
    I am thankful for all the powerful prayers and thoughts of our community of friends and family and for everyone's support in these difficult dark days and for your understanding of our situation - as ununderstandable as it is.  I appreciate the encouragements, notes, cards, gifts and visits.  And I know that our lives and times are in the hands of our God, who does love us so richly and deeply that we cannot even fathom it.  That is our only comfort in life and in death.