I had the most beautiful dream last night. In my dream, Baby Sam had been born, but I hadn't seen him yet. When I went to see him, there were two babies laying side by side and I just knew which one was Baby Sam because he looked exactly like all of his ultrasound pictures. And he was mine. And he was healthy. I got to pick him up and hug and kiss him. God had healed my baby boy.
And I do believe that could happen in real life. He could be born perfectly healthy and strong. And I would shout it from the rooftops. I would.
But if he's born as expected, needing surgery, I am prepared to fight. I will use every last bit of myself getting my baby well. I will pray with every ounce of my strength and sit by his bedside so he's not alone.
We are more than incredibly blessed to have our family around. My mom is pretty much moving in on October 1st to take care of Emma. Every day she tells me that she has her suitcase and a cot in the car, just in case. (Mom, we aren't going to make you sleep on a cot for a month!) And I know my dad and Travis's parents will be with us every step of the way too. And my cousin has offered to mail us a house key to her near-the-hospital house so that we can stop by anytime for a nap or a shower or a night. And my neighbor across the street is getting me through each day with distractions and sometimes even dinner. And that's really just the beginning of all the support we've received. My head is spinning (in a good way) with all the love we've been shown.
Unless something changes tomorrow at Dr. Fancy's, we are NINE days til Baby Sam. I am overjoyed and terrified at the same exact time, trying to hold onto the faith that got me to Baby Sam in the first place.
Please keep praying for our little baby. Grab a Sam button. Spread the word. God is listening.