It struck me even harder this week, more than any other, as Matt's cousin Jess gave birth to their beautiful baby boy on Tuesday, 26 February. I went to visit the happy (if exhausted!) parents and their son Henry yesterday, and was overwhelmed almost to the point of numbness with the precious little baby in my arms.
Jess gave birth on her due date, a miraculous feat already! They just came home from the hospital yesterday, and I was happy to have a chance to visit all three of them. But it put things into perspective, too: As I held him, I had a very distinct flash forward to two months from now, when I'll be holding another little baby in my arms...
My own son.
I still remember the day I found out we were pregnant. It's like it was yesterday. I cried the night before, completely ignoring the fact that the Olympics were going on and instead succumbing to hormones as a shower washed the tears streaming down my face. I didn't know why I was crying, I just knew I was frustrated and overwhelmed and ready to get the next cycle going so I could forget about yet another failed one.
Then the next morning came about, 10DPO, and I tested on a whim. Matt was traveling later that day and, in hindsight, I really should have waited at least until he left to test, but I figured it'd at least be too early to show anything. So I pulled out an internet cheapie, did what I had to do, and started up a shower.
Of course, I had to check the test before I hopped in the shower.
And of course, a positive! A very, very stark one at that.
I remember staring at the test, not believing it to be true. The excuses were flying through my head: It's too early, we didn't really "try" this cycle, it's too dark to be real (yes, this was really a thought). And I remembered the shower was still running.
After turning off the faucet, I went to our bedside with the test, unable to really say or do anything but look at Matt with a stupid grin on my face. Matt, still feeling sleep drunk, roused and took a moment before saying, "... you're kidding."
I showed him the test, we cried, and I called in sick to work so we could take the day to celebrate. (Awesome attorney-boss, if you're reading this... I'm sorry. ;)) We spent the day in a pregnancy-induced haze, talking once in a while but mostly being caught in our own reverie.
There have been a lot of ups and downs since then, like when I bled at 7 weeks and we panicked the entire way to the hospital to get an emergency ultrasound. But there has also been the support of family and friends, feeling Kit move for the first time, finding out his sex, being pressed for his name (sorry, y'all... still not getting it!), having a baby shower with so many generous people, and just the anticipation of what's to come!
I'm seriously so excited for all this. While the timeframe I have left is daunting in its immediacy -- realistically speaking, anywhere from four to 10 weeks -- being able to hold Henry and realizing how far I've come already in this journey makes me feel more prepared than ever for Kit's impending arrival.
I just hope he's ready for us... ;)
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