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I took this picture yesterday afternoon, after your grandparents had gone home, after we went out to eat at Wegmans (who knew their buffet could be so delicious? Your grandpa ate 2.11 pounds of Chinese food as the rest of us watched in awe), between trips to the bathroom (so far, the only sign that you're in there--besides my boobs being VERY sore and my back aching and all this gas, all of which I'd come to associate with getting my period, not having a baby). I wanted to have it on record so that, in case things don't go as well as I'd like, I can at least remember that at one point, this was real.
Because it doesn't feel real yet. It's starting to, and I'm sure it will after we see you in an ultrasound picture (hopefully that will happen sooner rather than later), but I'm still trying to keep reminding myself that you're really there, that this isn't just a dream or my body playing tricks on me.
You've been a long time coming, baby, and I've been waiting for you a while. My friends from college could probably tell you about how my initial plans upon entering our small Christian school were to get an Mrs. degree (hence the creative writing major, which I don't really regret, but if I'd started school in today's economy rather than in the robust early 2000s economy, I'd sing a different tune), how I had a mild obsession (okay, maybe not so mild) with bridal magazines and Disney princesses and dreams of happily ever after. I wanted a husband, and then I wanted you.
The husband came a couple of years after I'd expected him to, and he didn't quite look like I expected. I used to dream about marrying someone who looked more like this
You know, the dark hair and goatee, the skinny guy, the youth-pastor-slash-worship-leader looking type (although, dear baby, I challenge you to find a single woman who doesn't think that Flynn Rider is attractive... he was designed to be so). I figured that I'd meet him sometime in the four years of my attendance at that small Christian college, that we'd have a Godly Courtship that would last a couple of years before he proposed and we married a few weeks after my diploma was in hand, and then you'd be on the way less than a year later.
Well, that timeline didn't happen, and I'm not sorry for it, because otherwise, I wouldn't have met your father:
...okay, maybe that isn't the fairest picture. Let's try another:
(to my husband: this is because I can't find any pictures of you dressed as a pirate)
So your father has the goatee I dreamed of, but he's also roughly the size of an ogre (which I LOVE: I can wear four-inch heels around him--at least when I'm not afraid of falling over--and I don't even come up to his chin! And he's so WARM). He's not a youth pastor, and he's not a worship leader; he's a web developer, and a damn good one at that. He's a geek, like I am, and he makes me laugh. You're going to love him.
I met him a full two years after my timeline expired. We dated long distance for three years before getting engaged; our engagement lasted another two years, and we finally got married in May of 2011 (three years before your due date, hey!). We've been together in some way for seven years, and we still make each other deliriously happy. He's the best husband I could ask for, and he'll be a great father for you.
We differed briefly on when we wanted to try and have you: I was eager to start right away, since by the time we were married, I was 27 and officially six years past the end of my timeline. Your father was 23 (and turned 24 a month after the wedding) and not in any rush. In the end, we compromised, deciding that we'd start trying to have you a year later. And to our surprise, it only took us a month to see our first positive pregnancy test! We were so excited, and we told-- well. Not everyone, but more people than we should have. Our parents, our grandparents, our aunts and uncles.
And a week later, the pregnancy failed. It was a chemical pregnancy, which means that the egg was fertilized but didn't implant. I can't say that I really felt sad--please don't think badly of me for it--but I was certainly disappointed that we had to call everyone and say, "just kidding." Still, I thought we'd get pregnant again quickly and easily.
But we didn't.
The chemical pregnancy was fourteen months ago, in July of 2012. From that point on, trying to get pregnant became something of an adventure, one that involved taking my temperature and checking out all the small things my body was doing, and despite all of this effort, we had no luck. Eventually, my doctor suggested I see an OB GYN, and though she hasn't been the most helpful ("distracted" is a good word for her), she did prescribe clomid about two months ago to try and regulate my menstrual cycle and make things easier. August was my second month on clomid, and sure enough, it seems to have worked very well.
I feel more confident with you than I did with the baby last summer. For one thing, I've taken more pregnancy tests, and each one is darker--that tells me that you're plugged in and growing and that you'll be sticking around for a while yet. For another thing, I feel more stable this time around. Your father and I have a nice apartment... more than a little messy, but still nice ...and his job is secure. In November, we're adding another member to our family--your Auntie Kat:
She's in something of a tough spot right now, and your father and I want to help her out, and we're going to; and you're going to love her, too. Your grandparents are supportive, and everyone's very happy for us.
And I'm happy, too. I'm looking forward to meeting you, to experiencing the surreality of you growing in my body, to finally seeing you face-to-face in May. I have a big long list of things I want to teach and tell you, but we've got a lifetime ahead of us for that, so for now, I'll say in closing that I'm indescribably happy and that I love you already.
I am DINOSAUR levels of happy. Talk to you soon.
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