I've thought dozens of times about writing this post. I dreamed of writing it two years ago, when Shawn and I first decided to start trying for another child. I prepared to write it each time I found out I was pregnant before I found out I wasn't anymore. I wondered if I'd ever write it when month after month went by with no signs of life. And for the last 100 some days I tried to figure out when it would be the right time to write these words so publicly.
I am pregnant.
Since February 17th, I've thought about little else. It still doesn't seem real, somehow. I've been begging my body to behave and the baby's to grow right. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, I've wondered if I would ever be able to relax.
And then yesterday, quickening; tiny, unmistakable movements beneath my belly button. And I breathed deeply and felt that things just might work out. I might even be able to enjoy this. I'll never have the same naive comfort level that I possessed when I was pregnant with Violet, that has been broken during these years. But I am cautiously aware of the miracle that I'm being allowed to participate in for a second time. Seems like a waste to worry the whole thing away, especially since I know how hard it is to come by.