Two Blue Lines

The journey to twosie has been vastly different than my firstborn in so many ways. In some aspects it is much the same--like the vomiting, losing weight, overwhelming fatigue, mental fog, etc. The physical symptoms are all present and accounted for. But the rest is night and day. With Ben we spent the three months after our wedding actively trying to not get pregnant. This time we tried for three months. And my oh my were those a different three months. It was a journey I couldn't share, but it was surprisingly trying and, at times, emotionally painful. The first half of the month was almost normal. But that second half...those two weeks seemed like a lifetime. Of just waiting. And at the end, disappointment. It only took us a few months and I was spent. I can't imagine the struggle of those who try without success for years. But one beautiful morning I knew. When that second blue line appeared, there was so much joy. Such a different response to last time, sitting on the bathroom floor with four positive tests littering the ground and sobbing my head off. When last time I heard that beautiful sound of a heartbeat at 11 weeks, I felt both fear and joy that it was real. This time I heard it at 7 weeks, and those familiar tears fell for such a different reason. I was in love. Last time I told people within a couple of weeks of finding out. This time I had an inordinate fear of miscarriage, so I didn't share. I spent the last two months petrified. So I sat in my self-made cocoon of misery, physically ill and emotionally torturing myself. I'm not saying it was my best decision--but I also can't say I would make a different one. I wasn't completely alone--I had Matt and a small circle of family and friends that knew. But I lived inside my head. Last time I was miserable because I was pregnant. This time I was miserable because I was afraid I wouldn't be anymore. Needless to say, after my second appointment and that beautiful second trimester mark, I emerged from the rubble and rejoiced.

Having Ben while I'm knocked up and sick as the dickens is a mixed bag. On the one hand, it's infinitely harder. Everything I do as a parent is so much more difficult and exhausting. On the other hand, it's really sweet to be sharing this with him. At first he just said "no thanks." But he warmed up to it quickly. He carries the ultrasound pictures around and calls it "my baby." When I'm lying on the couch half-conscious he takes breaks from his playing to curl up next to me, put his arms around me, and cuddle. Yesterday he woke up early from his nap, which he of course only does when I'm trying to nap at the same time. I stumbled into his room, looked down at him sitting in his bed, and said, "I'm not done with my nap yet." He reached up, took my hand, pulled me into his bed with him, wrapped his arms around me, and closed his eyes.

Soon I will have three sweet angels in my home with me. My personal heaven.