Being a parent opens one up to a vulnerability unlike anything else can.  I mean, the worry starts when the pee stick shows two lines, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I feel the baby move and grow inside of me, and when he is born there is no turning back.  Total and complete responsibility, full aching heart, throw-myself-in-front-of-a-moving-train love for this person. Any kind of pain to my children feels like a sledgehammer punch to the gut, and while I can generally handle whatever motherhood has thrown at me thus far, any potential wrench in my thoughts of my perfectly healthy children sends me into a complete swirl of not having the ability to digest the thoughts.

The first time I felt this way was when Logan was a wee-little newborn and I was doe-eyed staring at the Pediatrician listening to her words saying "Your baby isn't breathing properly and you need to take him to the ER".  It was as if she were speaking through a megaphone fog and sent me into a swirl of panic.  When Logan had his tooth injury was the second time, and with the twins, the entire time we were in the NICU after their birth was basically an extended punch to the gut. When I followed Cooper's ambulance to the hospital at 6 weeks old I was broken, and again today, as I listened to the Pediatrician tell me that Cooper needs to be seen at the UIHC to screen him for Hydrocephalus, I somehow found the ability to remain calm and together.  I am not calm and together.

I am reminded constantly that things are beyond my control. I find balance between faith and facts, even though it is challenging much of the time.

What I do know, is that the three wee little people that live in my house are my breath.

So we will wait for answers. We will wait to know whether we worried for nothing, or whether our lives will be just a little bit different.  I will breathe in these babies, one by one, smooching apple-shaped cheeks, tickling long, dark-brown eyelashes, rubbing soft wispy-haired heads, and the long locks of my eldest.  I will remember that I need to continuously ask for strength to endure the things that I cannot change, and will lean on the rock that is my husband. My baby-daddy, and a good one to boot.

So if you pray, pray. Send positive thoughts, affirmations, vibes, smoke signals, whatever it may be that you believe in. Send them to my Cooper's sweet head, and let's just hope that he is just a big-headed baby like his big brother.