Today is inducing day.  Even writing that forms a pit in my stomach.  Avery is napping and I should be packing for the hospital, but I have to get some thoughts out.  There were two events that took place today that I wanted to quickly journal about.

I've spent this whole morning with Avery because I know these next fews days, I'm not going to be as fully present with her as I'm recovering from labor.  We did everything she wanted to to this morning.  We want on a walk, we went swinging at the park, and down the big slide.  We threw rocks into the "wa wa" or the river, we drew with her favorite highlighters (even though mommy prefers we draw with crayons).  We ate cheese, crackers, and applesauce for lunch instead of fruit, veggies and a sandwhich.  It was her morning and we did what she wanted to do. 

I tried to be really present with her but I couldn't help but think that at 8pm that night I would be inducing labor.  Oh, what lie ahead of us.  Usually you don't know when you are going to go into labor, and now I see why that is easier.  When you know what's coming, it's really hard to have a normal, laid back morning with your daughter.  I felt like Jesus at the last supper.  Now I know that my future did not contain all of the horror Jesus' did, but I'm sure we shared some similar feelings.  There he was at the last supper, trying to explain to his best friends, his disciples what was about to happen to him.  They were not catching on.  Now I don't bash them completely because I don't know if they had brains to really understand what was about to happen to their Savior.  Same with Avery.  She couldn't fathom what her mommy was going to have to go through.

That morning I felt alone.  Everyone was so sad and broken over the loss of Karis, but I was the only one that had to stare my fear of labor and delivery in the face.  Kory did too, it just looked different.  He told me over and over that he wished he could physically go through labor for me, but I knew I needed to do this, for God and for Karis. 

A little bit ago we just got back from our midwife appointment.  We went in to ask some final questions of what to expect, how much medicine to take when we induce, and what we can expect after she is delivered.  It's not easy to here how this process could look and the possibilities of how she may look when we see her.  I asked if we could check for the heartbeat one more time.  I didn't expect to hear it, i just had to make sure it wasn't there.  She pulled out a little sonogram and we could actually see her.  Looking back, I wish I wouldn't of looked.  Usually ultrasounds there's lots of color (the blood flow), movement of a baby, a heartbeat....life.  As I watched it was a very very still, lifeless body that lay there as it scanned across.  I could see every tiny bone that connected her spine, I could see her brain, her ribs, her hands and feet.  She was so still, too still.  It was hard to catch my breath.  Emotions collided of what was and what was to come.

Oh Lord, give us the strength we need to walk this road.  We trust you are in every detail and you are an ever-present help in this time of trouble. (Ps 46:1), you are our rock, our salvation, our fortress, we will not be shaken (Psalm 62:2), you are our refuge and we trust in you (Psalm 62:8).