Through most of my adolescent and adult life, I’ve had, here and there, what I thought were stressful situations, difficulties, pain, self-doubt, and general hardship. And while I will always believe that folks are entitled to their feelings, I can also look back on my 24-year-old self and say, “That? That’s nothing.” When I think of all the tears shed by teenage me over boys who didn’t like me, clothes that didn’t fit, friends who acted weird, and stupid decisions I’d made, I want to laugh. I don’t, though, because those were practice problems. They were warm-ups – the slow, clumsy progression of scooting to crawling to pulling up to toddling to walking to running with full muscle control – preparing me for the past year of my life. It’s been hard, to say the least.
I can only hope that this past year hasn’t been preparing me for something worse that’s about to come. Dear God, can we please have a break from this level of hard for a while? I hope so.
Hope has been more important than ever since late January, when we found out we were pregnant again. And yes, I say we are pregnant. I used to be opposed to it because obviously I’m the one carrying the baby, but Will is the one who carries me. He’s the one who works a full day, comes home tired, and still makes sure I’m fed, the kitchen is clean, the laundry is done, and the house isn’t a health hazard. My body is the one hosting our daughter, but we are definitely in this together.
We are pregnant. And it’s the most terrifying thing we’ve ever faced.
I’ve been wanting to start blogging again for a long time now, but I had no idea where to start. There are so many things swirling around in my head and my heart on the subject, and it’s just occurred to me that I could brainstorm them here and then just tackle one at a time, adding as I go.
- bed rest
We’ll start with those. Stay tuned.