The first six months of Ravyn’s journey opened with happiness and hope then crashed hard into the reality of being a teen mother.  We encouraged readers not to rule out this young couple just because of the hopelessness and despair described in Ravyn’s First and Second Trimester accounts.  They could have aborted the baby but instead they married and determined to bring their child into this world, whatever it took.  Ravyn is now one week from her due date.  And things are turning around for her and her husband. We have been privileged to get to know them and see their true character and to share Ravyn’s words with our readers.

As I move into the final weeks of my pregnancy, it hits me that this journey has gone by so fast. It feels like only yesterday that I was taking The Test and telling my parents The News. It’s hard to believe the formation of a human being could take so little time.

I have started to notice that as I travel along this road I am growing as a person along with the son growing inside me. God’s loving hand has led me down a very complicated and obstacle-filled path.  Despite the difficulties and challenges—maybe because of them—I believe I am becoming better in many ways. In the first part of this story I had written than I had been a horrible person.  That person who was is not me anymore.

My son moves around and stretches my belly, running out of room to move.  I go in for my thirty-five week appointment and learn he is still sideways and has not turned. I also learn that the incessant itching and red bumps I have acquired within a week are called pupps (a rare skin rash that only happens to only pregnant women and then only 1 in100) and that it will not go away until sometime after birth. With my hormones going wild, I worry to no end that my son will not turn. I prepare myself for the next appointment that will tell me if I need to try an inversion or if I may need a Cesarean section.

The week between thirty-six and thirty-seven is a quick seven days. While I have been waiting for my son to head in the right direction, my husband has found his way forward. I have written about my frustration, fury and sadness at how he has not been the person I needed, and how I had I realized I could not make him into the man I wanted him to be.  But he has changed from within, found strength and determination.  He has taken stock of who he is and what he can do to be the father this family needs, and how he can be the man he wants to be.  He will be a soldier, committing himself to serving and protecting this country…and us.  It is a huge decision, a turning point in his own life that points him toward the exit door of the life he is leaving behind.

Still, he needs my help with paperwork he must assemble for enlistment.  All the turmoil and getting everything prepared for the baby and organizing his documents, I forget all about the upcoming appointment. When we go in to see my doctor at my thirty-seven week mark, I get the bad news: my son is still inverted. My baby is positioned sideways in my belly and the doctor says they can’t do inversions at our local hospital. It’s either a C-section, go to Tacoma, or wait. I chose to wait, praying my baby would turn on his own. I have faith.  After all, I know my prayers for my husband have been answered.

While waiting for the thirty-eight week appointment there is so much bustle with the holiday coming up, my husband’s GED testing (he passed and, Lord, was I thankful and proud of him), and getting ready for the baby doctors tell me I will see the first week of January. We went through clothes (ours and the baby’s), blankets, put up cleaning supplies, and talked about the plans for the future since so much had changed so quickly. My husband did his swearing-in to join the Army and we needed a plan for the months to come when I would be without him.

I have a warm, safe place for me and my child until I join my husband wherever he will be stationed.  A wonderful woman from our church will take me in and allow me to live in a private space in her home.  This is such a blessing.  The place where we had been living lacked proper plumbing and heating.  It was all we could afford, two kids without high school educations, no money and a child on the way.

The doctor tells me my son is now head down, aimed for the exit out of me and into this world. Our baby is finally in position. Now it is just a waiting game. The next appointment will be December thirty-first.  Christmas and family events keep us busy. The start date for my husband’s basic training has been moved up.  He will be leaving us sooner than we first thought.  The Army needs him, but so do I.  Now I have to think about these months ahead when I will be alone with my new child. My thoughts are focused on time and events: When would the baby show himself? Will he be born before his daddy leaves? Would we risk inducing birth if he hasn’t showed or showed signs of coming?

This third trimester has brought more anxiety than the first two—and they were hard enough.  But I close out this last stage of my pregnancy filled with so much joy.  In the depths of despair and hopelessness, unexpected loneliness and fear for the future, I never thought I would again be this happy.